Going Batty

BAT!

Literally.  We were, according to Sweetboy’s third grade teaching team, supposed to do a “practice count”, over the weekend, of how many bats came through a particular area of vision for 5 minutes.  I’m sorry.  What’s that now???  As if that’s not bad enough, they also encouraged us to do so at dusk, which is prime “bat viewing time”.  Dusk, you know, that time of evening whereby the children are mercifully headed for bed and the parentals finally get to bust into their own fermented apple juice? Yeah. That time.

Dusk, as Sweetboy informed me, “is at approximately 7:30 p.m.”.

Allrightythen.

What, pray tell, is the goal of this information collection?  To provide valuable information on the health of the bat population. Let’s get something straight right now. We are no strangers to bats.  Sadly, we are not.  And I can tell you that a bat’s health hangs in the balance if it intends to come anywhere near me and mine. Allow me to elaborate with two tragically true stories.

Story 1 goes a little something like this:

Mama has first child.  It’s a sweet boy.  Mama, Daddy, newly birthed Sweetboy, and mama’s parents (who have flown all the way from Florida) head home from hospital interlude.  On first night at home with new baby snuggled at mama’s side, mama hears strange noise in room.  Mama turns on lamp.  Lamp illuminates a visitor of the flying variety in our bedroom.  Flying around.  With wings.  Not a bird.  Mama pees post-birth diaper.  Baby screams.  Mama shrieks for Daddy.  Daddy and Capt. Ahab do some flying of their own up the stairs to see what’s amiss.  They find Mama outside bedroom door, hyperventilating, still with wet drawers, unable to go back in to retrieve clean drawers.  The menfolk shoo the mama down to The Nana’s bed to tend to the flying intruder. The Mama must borrow Nana’s unders. The term ‘granny pants’ takes on new meaning to the Mama. The men trap intruder by stunning it with a broom and scooping it into a Tupperware bowl.  They release it outside.  They calmly announce that it was a bat.  The mama faints.  (No, no – that last bit didn’t happen.  It would have been a fitting end, though, no?)
Story 2 goes a little something like this:

Mama has second child.  It’s a sweet girl.  Mama, Daddy, newly birthed Sweetgirl, Sweetboy and mama’s parents (who have flown all the way from Florida) head home from hospital interlude.  On first night at home with new baby snuggled at mama’s side, mama hears strange noise in room.  Mama turns on lamp.  Lamp illuminates a visitor of the flying variety in our bedroom.  Flying around.  With wings.  Not a bird.  Mama pees post-birth diaper.  Baby screams.  Mama shrieks for Daddy.  Daddy and Capt. Ahab do some flying of their own up the stairs to see what’s amiss.  They find Mama outside bedroom door, hyperventilating, still with wet drawers, unable to go back in to retrieve clean drawers.  The menfolk shoo the mama down to The Nana’s bed to tend to the flying intruder.  The Nana knows the drill.  The Mama more readily accepts the granny pants. This time, the men trap intruder by sucking it up with a shop vac. Wastes less time trying to chase it around, you see.  They release it outside.  They calmly announce that it was another bat.
I kid. You. Not!  Two almost identical experiences at identical times, 4 years apart.  What are the odds?  You’d go batty trying to figure it out, too!  And now?  Now, we’re supposed to actively look for them? Outside?  I think not.  Instead, why don’t I just have another baby, bring it home, and wait? That would be a surer bet.  Indeed!

What bat-crazy animal antics have you encountered?

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8 thoughts on “Going Batty

  1. Pingback: Let’s Play a Game « missindeedy

  2. Pingback: Going batty « Minkyweasel World

  3. We had a bat in our house the first night we slept here. I was pregnant with Luke and I ran into the bathroom and locked the door until Mike took care of the situation. The bat actually killed itself by flying into our sliding glass door….I guess it’s echolocation skills were not so sharp?

    • That poor bat! Mark and Capt. Ahab were a little worried that the bat had given itself a heart attack the second time when they tried to release it from the shopvac and it wouldn’t go anywhere. They had to kind of gently dump it out. Oh dear,when echolocation fails…

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