In her latest letter, received in yesterday's mail, my 87-year-old mother reminiscenced about the Nelson family's move from Great Falls, Montana, to Warren, Pennsylvania, 51 years ago to the day -- and our first bat encounter in the Warren parsonage.What a coincidence!
Last Friday, Eddie mentioned to JoAnna and me that he found a bat on the garage floor during the day.
“What did you do with it?” I asked.
I could immediately sense JoAnna tensing up.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“Nothing,” I echoed. “Do you mean it’s still there?”
“I nudged it with a broom and it moved a little bit,” he explained. “So I left the garage door open so it could fly out.”
But we had no clear-cut evidence that this had actually happened.
From this point of the weekend, I cautiously opened the door to the garage and made a visual inspection before entering. JoAnna, on the other hand, decided to give the garage as wide a berth as possible.
On Saturday, as I went to get myself a can of Coke from the garage refrigerator, I discovered a dead bat on the floor. I took a broom and swept it into the area beneath a row of cedars along the driveway. Or at least I thought I had done this. Later in the day, JoAnna saw the same little critter in the middle of the driveway. It didn’t make her day.
Two days later, on a darkly overcast afternoon, I opened the door to the garage and immediately saw something flitting about. It looked much larger than a moth. I took quick step backwards and slammed the door shut. Then I cautiously reopened the door and reluctantly reached in with my right hand to hit the garage door opener.
“Looks like we have a bat in the garage,” I announced to Eddie.
I shared this news with JoAnna when she called while driving home from work.
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t find its way into the house,” I said, not too reassuringly, I suspect.
Around 8:30, while JoAnna and I were on the bedroom side of the house, we heard a cry for help from Eddie in the family room.
“There’s a bat in the house,” JoAnna announced once I emerged from the bathroom. (And no, I hadn’t been hiding there.)
Never having previously dealt with this situation, Eddie continued to call out for assistance. Though I would have preferred to barricade myself in the bathroom, I grabbed a bath towel and walked to the other side of the house to join Eddie. JoAnna, in the meantime, had securely closed the bedroom door.
I found Eddie in a crouching position (though some might have mistaken it for cowering) and clutching a comforter (which was not placed over his head). All I had to do was look at his eyes to find the location of the bat. It had found a temporary perch at the opposite end of the room, above the computer desk. After ten seconds or so, it resumed its erratic, panicked, creepily silent flight path. Even though this wasn’t my first such encounter, although thankfully there’d been a 30-year gap, I still felt as though I was one of those dispensable characters in a cheesy horror movie. It’s amazing how these basically benign, beneficial animals mess with humans’ heads. After a brief foray into the kitchen, the bat returned into the hallway, where I was able to flag it down with a flapping bath towel. I then scooped it up, folded it into the towel, and then tossed the bundle into the back yard.
Once the great white hunter had collected his prey, I returned to the bedroom. Surprisingly, I found the bedroom door open. Boxer, our cat, slaughterer of mice, was keeping JoAnna company.
“Did you get the bat?” she asked.
I told her I had.
“You’re not just telling me that?” she said nervously.
I assured her that the bat had been captured, and if not released, tossed out of the house.
“Do you know that for sure?”
I explained that the place where the bat had fallen was now clear. But I wasn’t going to paw through the towel to give her the ultimate assurance.
We slept with the bedroom door closed, which resulted in slightly stuffy sleeping conditions. This morning, JoAnna hesitated once she opened the door.
“Do you want me to check the house?” I offered.
“Please,” she responded.
I found nothing to report.
And hopefully that's the way it will remain.
In the meantime, though, I think I might look for one of those electrical bat repellants that Mom mentions in her letter. (It makes a noise that bats don't like so they stay away. It really works.)
Eddie, Grandma Nelson, Andy (Thanksgiving 2007)
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