Margotlog: Bat Attack - The Warmth of July 31/August 1
Wow! Pal of Mine, if I'd known you'd come...well, it was 3 a.m. two mornings in
a row. This "morning" you were swooping in our high stairwell,
with the light on, of course, because I became aware of you in my bedroom
and had to scram out of there, turning on every light I could find.
After the first "incident" the night before when I was sure you were confined to the kitchen, I found the correct phone number to call for help from
the St. Paul Police Department, 651- 291 - 1111 - and with my knees
shaking, I called. Then I stood downstairs at the front door, hoping you would come close enough (but not too close) to see an open
door. After what seemed like a century, with you landing on the
ground floor--pitiful little bunch of life--then rising into "terror
mode" again, you actually swooped past me as I stood in the entryway,
holding open the screen, and FLEW OUT.
Julia the black and white cat and I were so relieved we sort of hugged, though Julia might have "done battle" had I not screamed her away.
I
was still shaking and couldn't quite decide to call back the Police
Department and say no need to send the officer. Eventually I did call, but the
"officer" was on his way and arrived, looking very official and neat,
and spoke with me, gesturing up to the long stairwell, and recounting
how tiny an opening a bat can get through, about the size of a dime!
And YOU, UNWANTED VISITOR, WERE WAS NOT A PUNY LITTLE BROWN BAT, BUT A BIG BROWN BAT WITH A
WINGSPAN OF AT LEAST A COMMERCIAL JET PLANE..
I was very very
grateful to have a "back up" and I do truly believe this man makes a
fine business of doing "critter calls." He'd already visited two other houses
that evening, but much earlier, between 9 and 10 o'clock. He said the
huge mansions on Summit Avenue are havens for bats, despite all their
glamor. And the residents get as freaked and terrorized as those of us
in more modest dwellings. He also explained that in hot weather, aka
July and August, bats are especially prone to investigate insides. The
fact that I harbored a bat for who knows how long--at least 48
hours--does not mean that I'm a bad person or doomed to a lower ring of
hell.
Right now, nine a.m.ish, I'm hoping we can get through the summer without another visitation.
