Going A Little Batty Over Here

Armed for Battle

Friday evening is one of my favorites.  The kids are generally tired at the end of the week and go to bed easily, and early and Stargate: Universe is on Sci-fi at 9.  Ah.  Peace and bliss.

This last Friday was going as planned.  The children had settled easily.  The house was (a rarity) tidy, and I settled down with a plan to write for an hour and a half, then watch SGU while playing Egg Breaker.  My friend Liz called at 8:30 and I was having a chat with her when something flew down my stairs into my living room.  In seconds three thoughts went through my head:

“Eeew.  That’s pretty big bug.  (second look)  It’s not a bug!  It’s a . . . bird? (third look, much closer than I would have liked) It’s a  . . . ”

and I said, out loud, on the phone to Liz, “Oh crap!  There’s a bat in my house!”

I said this from a crouching position as it flew back and forth between my two living rooms.  After the third pass it went back upstairs.  Liz and I discussed different courses of action, but when it came back down and dive bombed me again I realized that this was a job for a man.

I called my pastor.

I don’t know if you realize this, but one of the qualifications for pastors is the ability to show up at a congregant’s home and defend her from a bat.  It’s right there in 3 Timothy 6.  🙂

The intruder at rest

When Mitch arrived he said to me, “I bet your cool, big city, mega church pastor in St. Louis won’t rescue you from a bat!”  I don’t really want to test that theory, but I know this for a fact: bat or no bat, I’m sure gonna’ miss my cool, small city, small church pastor when we move.

Shortly after Mitch (and Jawan, and their kids) pulled up, Liz showed.  She wanted to be sure I was defended from my invader.   She and Mitch ascended my stairs, armed with brooms (and my camera, because I am a chicken) and I heard a lot of thumps, bumps, talking and then more bumps and thumps.  Thirty minutes later, the bat came down the stairs again, followed by a breathless Mitch saying, “Where’d it go?”

The answer?  Into my bedroom.    Into the bedroom went the fearless hunters, and I could hear them through the baby monitor, trying to hunt a bat while not waking the baby sleeping in the crib under the circling bat.  When Mitch brought the Cheesedoodle to me, he was looking puzzled and a little dazed.  (cheesedoodle, not Mitch)

The battle raged on until Ira arrived.  He walked through my front door and asked, “Where is it?”  I pointed to the bedroom, and Ira walked back out the door.  Seconds later he was back with two large blankets.  He had Liz stand in my archway with one blanket and then, essentially just showed the bat the door.  Within minutes it was out the door and gone (just about ending up in the van with Jawan and the kids, but thankfully that ended up as a non-story), and Ira took his blankets and departed, back to World of Warcraft.

I’ve heard a lot about bats causing damage, including a vile smell, but at the end of the event, when everyone had gone home, thankfully, all I smelled was a blog post.

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About Coralie

After 11 years of infertility, I am now a mother to three, a wife of a Presbyterian (ARP) preacher and a struggling homemaker. Welcome to my little corner of the net. Kick off your shoes, put your feet up and join the conversation. View all posts by Coralie

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