Tag Archives: get rid of bat

Get Rid of Bat

bat removal

“Myron, I think we need to get rid of a bat.”  I heard my wife call from the other room. She sounded so nonchalant, like it was the most normal thing in the world to yell to me across our home, starting a conversation about bats.  She might as well have been asking me if I wanted turkey or roast beef in my sandwich.  Admittedly, I was a little confused.  After nearly fifty years of marriage, we’d never had a bat in the house.  A mouse problem once, but that was a long time ago.

Maybe I misheard her.  “What’d you say, Jane?  Do you need anything?”  I called out.

“A bat.  A BAT.  I think we need to get rid of a bat!”  Her voice was a little more insistent and a lot more irritated.  She hates it when I don’t hear her correctly.  She thinks I ignore her sometimes on purpose.  If I’m completely honest with myself, sometimes I do.

Sighing, I put down my tools.  During my working years, I had dreams of my retired life.  It involved a lot of golf, a lot of time watching football, and plenty of time in my wood shop.  So far, I spent the majority of my time finishing the basement and turning it into basically a second home.   I’d built a kitchen and living room down there, a couple of bedrooms and an office.  It had been my wife’s idea, and so I grumbled about it a lot.  Truth is, I was enjoying myself.

But, now I had to stop, once again, and head back upstairs to where my wife sat on her easy chair, playing Sudoku.  Her health hadn’t been so good this last year, which meant she wasn’t able to spend her retirement years traveling, as she’d wanted.

I made it upstairs and saw her looking up at the wall above the mantle.  “A bat, Myron.  I said we need to get rid of a bat.”

Looking up, I saw the bat on the wall.  At first, it looked like a medium-sized smudge, but as I walked closer to the fireplace, I could easily see my wife was right.  We needed to get rid of the bat.  I was impressed that she was still sitting there, doing her Sudoku, in the presence of this creature.  She hadn’t been this calm when we had a mouse problem.  The years had mellowed us both out.

I had no idea how to get rid of the bat, though.  My mind went through the possibilities.  At best, I might scare it out of the house.  More likely, though, I’d end up scaring it into a witless flight pattern around our heads, and possibly hurt myself in the process.  Plus, I really wanted to get back to my basement project.  Then, it dawned on me.  Call Allstate Animal Control.  They’d send someone out to get rid of the bat for me, and my wife and I could go back to our respective retirement activities.  Good plan.

Bat Control

“What’s he doing?”

“He says it’s bat control.”

“Seriously?  He looks . . . he looks like he’s just crazy.”

“I know, right?  But, he says there’s a bat in his dorm room and he’s taking care of bat control by himself.”

The boy in question was a freshman, and was dancing, or jerking around, with a sheet in front of his window at night in a first-floor dorm room.  He’d opened up the window, which is gave all of us a nice view of what was going on.  So far, no one had seen a bat, but this was a lot better than the junk reality show playing in the common room, so a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk and grass outside his window.

“So, if he’s doing bat control, where’s the bat?  All I see is the dude and his sheet.  Weird.”

“No, no!  I see it.”

Bat hanging from a ceiling.
A bat hanging from the ceiling of a freshman dorm room.
(Artwork by Sharon Davis. Contact us for her contact info.)

A bunch of us leaned forward, some squinting, trying to catch a glimpse of the bat in the room.

“There!  There it is!  D’ya see it?”

The freshman had stopped waving his bed sheet for just a moment, long enough for the bat to settle back down in the corner of the wall.  It was big enough to make some of the girls screech and fall back behind some of the guys.  Its pursuer realized he had an audience, and turned to address us, enjoying his moment.

“It’s just a big brown bat, is all.  Dunno how it got in here, but I’m gonna try to make it fly back out the window.”

At this, some of the more squeamish girls fell back even further.

“Dude, use a racket or something!”

“Do you have one I could use?”

“No.  But, I’m sure a sheet ain’t gonna do it.”  The boy just shrugged.

“What if it bites him?” someone asked.

“It’s not gonna bite me, unless I try to hold it in my hands.  I just want to get it out of my room so it doesn’t crap all over everything.”

“Ewwwww,” someone muttered.

Someone else gasped, and the boy whirled around to recommence his herky-jerky-sheet-dance as the bat swooped around the room.  He assumed a bull-fighter’s stance when the bat flew lower through the air.

“I’m tellin’ ya, a sheet’s not gonna do a thing.  You gotta have something like a tennis racket or something,” the self-proclaimed bat control expert asserted, though no one was listening to him.  Everyone was too busy shouting out pointers to the freshman dancing in the window.

“On your left!”

“Up, up, up, up!!!”

“Don’t try to catch it, just scare it out the window.”

This last piece of advice earned the speaker a withering glare from Bat-Boy, as he was now being called.

And, then, suddenly, it was over.  The bat finally swooped out the window and zoomed far out of sight.  Everyone, except for the racket-lover, broke out into spontaneous applause and the boy took a bow, closed his window and his shutters, and everyone drifted off, talking about that night’s excitement.