On Friday morning, I awoke to Milo’s voice, full of wonder, not fear, calling “Mama! WOW! There’s a bat in our house!” Before my eyes were fully open, I was rushing downstairs, not sure what I was going to find, but not expecting the bat flying completely silently toward me as I came down the stairs. I’m not at all squeamish about most things, but flying creatures in an enclosed space is on my list of things I do not find cool.

I was (while ducking and trying not to shriek) really amazed by the lack of sound. Birds trapped inside make quite a racket with their flapping, but bats are eerily silent and unexpectedly graceful while flying indoors. After watching it fly downstairs, then back up again a few times, I got my bearings enough to realize I needed to contain it, so I slammed the door to our guest bedroom right after it flew in, then I jammed a towel under the door crack just in case.

It was at this point that I realized there were a few fears running through my mind: first and foremost, the memory of a recent podcast I had listened to about a young woman who was bitten by a bat and later developed rabies, the disease that is not only terrifying but fatal to humans once symptoms appear. Bats, of course, are known to carry rabies. 

Once Andrew returned home from his workout, I sent him in to capture the bat. Of course, it had disappeared. Totally and completely gone. Andrew told me I was “bat shit crazy,” that there was no bat in that room, and went upstairs to take a shower. I scoured the room, tearing every single thing out of the closet, pulling up the rug, looking into each fold of curtain, taking pillowcases off pillows, searching the radiator with a flashlight and broom handle, upturning and upending everything in that damn room before looking up at the air conditioning vent on the ceiling and thinking, “f*@^! That’s where you went!” 

Hours later, after a rip-off hour-long visit from an animal control guy that cost an arm and a leg and produced nothing but the sage advice, “You should seal that crack, and I can do it for about $1000,” I said a polite “no thank you sir,” and headed back inside, a feeling of dread arising every time I opened a closet or cabinet or dresser drawer for the rest of the day. That bat was still in our house and we had no idea where it was (it wasn’t, by the way, in the vent).

I kept searching, but couldn’t find the sucker. I went to bed that night feeling particularly itchy and nervous, half expecting to awaken to a bat in my hair, but too hot to sleep with the blankets over my head.

The next morning, Andrew happened to look down beside him while he was writing downstairs to see this little guy hanging out on the floor near the radiator (oh my god how did he get back downstairs?!!!). He was in bad shape, poor little guy, having been deprived of food and water for at least two days, so he was easy to catch. Andrew placed him on the back deck and we took a few pictures. I noticed he was licking up rainwater off the deck, he was so thirsty and weak, so Andrew poured a bit of water in front of him, and he immediately started drinking it. The pictures are so deceiving, because he only showed his teeth when he heard the click of the camera, he was so frightened.

All five of us were gathered (at a safe distance) to look at this fascinating creature. Its delicate wings made of skin stretched over fine bones, fur that looks as soft as a lamb, tiny claws at the end of each wing joint, tiny needle-point teeth… it is such an oddity to see a bat up close during the day! We left him to rest and eventually he flew away, hopefully to safety, hopefully not quite as close as before, hopefully to catch the bajillion mosquitoes that have been thriving during our wet month of June. So while I am relieved this little guy is no longer in our house, we are grateful for the close-up education of this misunderstood little bat. Really, such a cool animal!