It seems like every time I log on to Facebook these days, one of my friends has a story about bat invasion. Seriously, what's up with the bats this late summer? We had our own bat experience a couple of weeks ago when we heard rustling in our house in the middle of the night. Josh and I woke suddenly and both had the same thoughts: "Crap. The mice are back," and "Has that two-year exterminator warranty run out yet?" Then the noise seemed to stop and we hoped that whatever critter that had gotten in had found it's way out. We drifted back to sleep.
I woke startled by Josh's shout. It was wishful thinking that the creature left. Josh had felt it sniffing around his arm on the bed. When we turned on the lights, it had disappeared again into the night leaving a trail of dust bunnies from where it had been hiding under the bed after Josh yelled. Josh went down into the basement to check on the mead, fearing some sort of varmint infestation. I made fun of him that this was proof that the mead was his new true love. We slept uneasily for the rest of the night. There was no sign of any critters the next day.
Two days after our sleepless night, I was cleaning up the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher and starting a new load of dirty dishes. As I reached for some bowls to rinse off, I saw this:
Now, I am not a squeamish person, but I yelled pretty loud encountering some wet furry thing that looked like it had no head perched on our cereal bowls. I called Josh at work who talked me through the process of covering it with a strainer and carrying the bat and bowls into the back yard. The poor thing was so scared it didn't move at all, which was lucky for me because I think I would have had a heart attack. Josh had his turn making fun of me, until I emailed him the picture of what I was greeted with in the morning and he agreed it was pretty creepy.
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