Look closely at the photo. See a little dark smudge hanging off a tree branch? That, my friends, is a bat, and the latest visitor to our humble home. Yesterday morning started out uneventfully. I was sitting at my desk in my office, checking corrections for a magazine I’d been copyediting. I heard a few odd sounds coming from the light fixture above me, but I assumed it was nothing more than a trapped bug. I was wrong. How wrong became apparent seconds later when I heard a much louder noise, the noise of flapping wings as the bat–disturbed from its rest by the light’s heat–careened around my small office like a drunken sailor on leave.
Luckily, I had enough presence of mind to open the window and screen before fleeing from the office and closing the door behind me. (Thankfully Pablo and the cats were already downstairs.) Then I did what any 21st-century, liberated woman would do–I called my husband. He calmed me down some, and later I even managed to sneak into the office to retrieve my iPad.
That afternoon K returned home from work earlier than usual and went up to investigate. I’d like to say I went with him, but I stayed on the porch. K came back to report that the bat was sleeping upside down on a branch of my tree decoration. He took some photos (see above) and gently prodded it to leave. It yawned, opened its bat eyes, and refused. After a little more prodding, it finally flew out the window, no doubt grumbling at the shoddy accommodations provided by our bed-and-breakfast.
K thought the bat very cute and became quite enamored with it, even going so far as to wonder if they can be kept as pets. I’m fond of bats, as well. I know they perform a useful service keeping the bug population in check. But I don’t want another one in my house. Not ever.