In April, we had a bat in the house. There might have been two — we’re not sure — because we thought it flew out, but there it was again.
It flew in circles, narrowly missing our screaming faces, as we tried to corral it out the door. We used a broom, and our screaming faces. It didn’t work so well.
The bat visit coincided with the disappearance of one of the hamsters, who was later found bleeding on the stairs. We got the bat out, got the hamster in a convalescence cage, and wished for the best. (He died a couple of weeks later.)
The next time a bat visited us inside, we realized that we had left an attic access door open out on the porch, and they must have been coming through our baseboard-less walls. So we closed the attic access door.
The next day another hamster went missing. It has absolutely nothing to do with the bat, but you must learn how interesting and chaotic (disordered, harum-scarum, rampageous , topsy-turvy, and tumultuous) our household can be.
A couple of months later, another bat. And now again, they come every few days. We realized that there is access to the crawl space under the house in two locations — neither of which are very secure. (The neighborhood cats use the crawl space as an escape from our vicious beast dog.)
We are experts at catching and releasing bats now. We use a mesh pop-open hamper. They fly right into them. And then we can look at them crawling around with their hooked wings. (You too can have your very own professional bat catching device for only 3.99 at Ace Hardware.)
The cat and dog go crazy.
We assume the bats are flying in under the house, crawling up our walls, and coming in through the baseboard-less rooms.
Last weekend, I had Ben put the baseboards on Matthew’s walls (more on that later). But you know bats can squeeze through very small spaces? They must be coming in through our bedroom now.
I love bats. They are amazing animals, and extremely important to our environment. So creepy and delightfully weird.
But when I am lounging on my bed with my oldest son and youngest daughter, and I hear a rustling noise, and then look to the cat for clues on what it is, and the cat tells me to look on my bedclothes, and then I see the bat crawling up my comforter, not a foot away from my oldest (and most squeamish) child… it’s time to close up the rest of the walls, right?