“If you find a bat in your house, the most important thing to remember is not to let it out of your sight. Their bones are flexible and they can fit into a hole the size of a nickel.”
When you’re in the middle of rewiring your house and there are dozens upon dozens of small holes running like dotted lines across the ceiling in Every. Single. Freaking. Room., that there is a problem.
I had just finished asking the universe to help me be grateful for what I have. I’m feeling a little like I made a mistake buying this place because of so many unexpected issues. I don’t want to feel that way. I believe that you receive what you manifest, and I want to believe it was a great choice and therefore it will be great. So I was just trying to replace the day’s negative vibe with a positive one.
Then I saw a moving shadow. Probably a passing car. Oh, wait, a car would be a moving light. This was not light, and it was moving around the room, and bumping into things. Was it a bird, I wondered hopefully? I squinted up at it. Nope, definitely not a bird.
I instinctively curled into the littlest ball possible and pulled the sheet over my head while trying to figure out what to do. My phone was downstairs on the charger, so I had no means to google an immediate answer. So I did what any normal person would do—once I finished cowering under the covers for another minute or two, I beat it out of the room like a bat out of hell, slamming the door behind me.
Downstairs, by the light of my phone, I learned this is not what you want to do.
The correct procedure is, while keeping an eye on the bat at all times, lest it find a hiding place, to open a window and, with a broom, gently try to guide the bat out. If that fails, wait until it gets tired and lands somewhere under your watchful supervision. Then gently put a container over it, slip a piece of cardboard underneath, carry it outside, and release it up against the house or a tree so that it can climb up. And don’t do it with your bare hands. Because, maybe rabies.
Sure, let me keep an eye on that frantically circling bat while I pull out the broom, thick leather gloves, coffee can and cardboard that I keep conveniently tucked under the bed. (Note to self: start keeping a broom, some thick leather gloves, a coffee can and a piece of cardboard under the bed.)
As I’d spent the day fighting one of the headaches I save just for the weekends, I decided I was too tired to hassle with it then and would gather my tools and tackle bat expulsion in the morning. I laid my camping pad down over two throw rugs, fished some dirty sheets out of the laundry basket, and tried to get some sleep on the dining room floor, far away from the bat room. I not so idly wondered if there were any centipedes about. (Yeah, that’s another story.)
I had to get up twice to go to the bathroom, which meant going upstairs again, but the bat was safely behind closed doors, right? Back downstairs, a chirping sound jolted me. Ah, just the smoke detector that needs a new battery. I managed to get some semblance of fitful sleep. In one dream, my long-ex husband came by and gamely searched for the bat.
Then, as I was coming to as the sun was rising, I heard it. Something winged was bumping into things in the dining room. I opened an eye to catch a bat whizzing overhead. Same bat? A sibling? Good lord, please no. Sheet over head, I wished it away. Then silence.
After more in-depth research, I learned about the flexible bones that allow bats to squeeze into small spaces. The bat room has a door with a sizable gap at the bottom, as well as several more-than-generous holes through which the electricians fished new wire. And now I know why I found wads of insulation on the floor under the fixture in the bathroom where the ceiling hasn’t yet been patched. The bat(s) really could be anywhere in the walls of the house.
Anyone know of a nice, short-term, furnished rental apartment?