Bat Season

We’d been having a heat wave and although I had air conditioning, I preferred to sleep with the windows open and allow the night air to refresh the rooms. My apartment was a converted attic space in an old home and had lots of windows and one large, screened skylight that opened and allowed a lovely breeze to flow through the space. I awoke in the wee hours and groggily headed for the bathroom as moonlight beams shone through the skylight. For some reason, I thought I saw a shadow coming toward my head while exiting my bedroom, so I ducked and immediately laughed at my odd behavior. Being nearsighted and unable to see in the dark, I assumed it was my imagination that made me flinch. I put the bathroom light on, went in and closed the door. When I opened the door again, I saw something that I couldn’t quite identify hovering about twelve feet away. I thought, “Bug?! No, too big. Bird? No, they don’t “hover”. Bat…..bat….BAT!!!!!” I slammed the bathroom door shut and let out a little scream. As I broke out in a cold sweat, I considered my options and staying in my apartment with the bat was not one of them. My landlord, Rocket (yes, that was his name), lived on the first floor and there was a door from my bathroom that went down a rear staircase to his place (and the basement laundry). I hesitated for a moment because I was wearing baby doll pajamas from Victoria Secret, but modesty was secondary to getting rid of the flying rodent. I pounded on his kitchen door and yelled his name for what seemed like an eternity, to no avail. He wasn’t home. Back in the bathroom for Plan B.

Sarah was a new tenant on the second floor and although we’d chatted a bit, we didn’t really know each other yet. Well, that was about to change. I was under the impression that bats didn’t like light, so I decided to run like hell to my front door while switching on every light in my path. In a crouching position, I did a “One, two, three, GO!” and ran without looking back, slamming my front door behind me. Banging on Sarah’s door, yelling, “Sarah! Sarah!” was probably terrifying for her, but I didn’t know what else to do. Poor Sarah came to her door, opened it slightly and with a horrified look on her face asked me what was going on. When I said “Bat” she pulled me in and immediately put a rolled up towel against the bottom of the door lest the beast come after us. She told me later that she thought I was bringing a rapist to her door! I promised her that I would never do such a thing. Crazy things go through our minds in the middle of the night. Fortunately, Sarah had a spare room with a twin bed, so I was able to catch a few hours of shut-eye, replete with bat dreams. We both had to go to work the next morning, so we got up extra early to find someone who would come and get the bat. Sarah won’t even kill a spider, so I had to agree to a rescue mission as opposed to search and destroy. Then there was the matter of the baby doll pj’s. The guy was on his way over and my clothes were in Batland, so Sarah loaned me a tiny robe (I’m 5 or 6 inches taller than her so I looked fairly awkward).

After a lengthy discussion with the bat expert, he decided that it was probably a baby bat that had wandered away from the group and got lost. He searched and searched and couldn’t find it (even went down to the basement at Sarah’s request because she was afraid it would get her when she tried to do laundry). It was suggested that it may have gotten out the same way it came in (which was where??). Three hundred dollars and no bat removal. I never slept with the skylight window open again and still fear heat waves. The good news; nearly 15 years later and Sarah and I are still dear friends.