We've been without air conditioning for five days and no end in sight. But we haven't been too miserable. I've been drinking my coffee on the deck watching Pup zip around his yard. Crazy racing. His breed loves to run, ears flat and no feet touching the ground, chasing sheep in his mind. Admittedly, there are days when he is a challenge for this not yet older adult who has not had a puppy in fifteen years. He has finally worn himself out and is resting in the side yard, out of view.
My ears perk when I hear a woman calling to Pup. Lost and found dogs posts are on FB every day. My heart stops at the thought of my new puppy being snatched. Still in my robe, I fly into the house to an open window where I can jump out into the side yard if necessary.
Much to my relief, I find a woman dressed in work clothes, topped with a yellow hard hat. My pupster loves the attention but stays away from her as she works. I run into the house to get dressed.
Working on the meter, she tells me she loves her job because of the animals she meets at job sights. Horses to cattle to pups. Whispering and petting them, getting them used to the idea of her presence in their spaces. When she mentions snakes my skin crawls. My one, absolutely without a doubt, feared breathing, slithering, swimming, hanging, sunning, rattling, living creature. She doesn't like spiders. Spiders don't bother me. I would almost faint to see a snake.
She goes to get her leather work bag sitting on the roof of our old doghouse.
"Oh my goodness. You have a baby bat clinging to the house." I lean out the window. Yes, a baby bat is clinging to the outside of my house. Not only is she a horse whisperer but also a bat lover, having raised raised baby bats before. She can't take this one with her because she is in a motel. The next time you stay in a motel try to envision a little cardboard nursery of bats being nourished with a medicine dropper on the counter where you brush your teeth. I appreciate her restraint.
She studies the baby bat and says it has been fed recently. The mother must be nearby. Suddenly, I am getting much more information on the bat world, remembering they are mammals just like the two women standing over this little wonder.
She turns back around to get her bag for the second time.
"Oh my gosh," with a tinge of horror in her voice. This is not a good sign. Five dead baby bats are scattered across the doghouse roof which we now realize is covered in guano. She says this is serious. I must call someone to come out and remove everything. She leaves me with the baby bat clinging to the wall. My Monday totally changes.
A wildlife agency gives me a number. I call that person, who is standing out in her fields and has to go find her husband to see if he is available. They can't help but they give me the number of the person I call The Bat Lady. We begin a texting relationship, I prefer voices on telephones but when you may have an attic full of bats you are very compliant with the person who is an expert.
She rescues skunks and bats. But loves bats more than anything. This is an unsung hero spending her time relocating bats and educating the public on the humane ways to remove a roost. Most people do not have good stories to tell about bats. Just like the curiosity before a big surgery, knowing more about this bat situation is not comforted by Googling.
She texts me and asks if I can contain the baby bat into a box and meet her in a nearby city. I confess. This is something I cannot do. My grandparents had a very old two story house complete with a tower room topped by a golden dome. It was a magical home.
But the last night I slept in our beloved family home, the smell and sound of the bats living in the hiding places was scary. I didn't see any bats. It was like the anticipation of The Birds except with The Bats. I went to sleep with a flashlight in my hands.
There had been bats inside the house. The Sheriff had been called one night to "save" two old ladies, my grandmother and her friend. They had been getting ready for bed when a daring bat begin to bat across the large bedroom. Without a thought, these very old ladies dove beneath the top sheet of the bed like sixteen year old girls. One of their brave hands reached out for the phone. There was precedent for visitations.
I just have a thing about bats. But looking at the little baby clinging to the wall perked my curiosity. Unfortunately, by early afternoon all signs of baby bats were gone. Even though I had gone ahead and called the Wildlife Lasso.
His large "over hill, over dale" truck filled the driveway. He kept it running because his brave dog sat in the front seat. Or I guess in case of a bat or wildlife escape. It was like having Crocodile Dundee standing in my yard. We went east to the sight of the discovery. Hmm. Then we walked west to the other eave. The Bat Lady had recommended this man for his humane way of dealing with animal nuisance situations.
Yes. We had bats. He suspected a temporary nursery on the east side. Not sure but maybe a few on the west side. No way of knowing until he could get on a ladder. He sent a tall, skinny son later that day to go into the attic. Thankfully, thankfully their were no bats in the attic which meant none in the house.
The best news of the day was the life cycle of bat life. This was the birthing time for bats. Not all bats are endangered but an attic full of purposely deceased bats was a horrible situation and one you don't want to know about. According to The Bat Lady, I did not want to experience even one bad error.
Actually, the most crucial and important news was the babies and mothers could not humanely be removed until the nursery was not necessary. Baby bats don't fly immediately. Flight is necessary to leave the eaves. Maybe entertaining for six weeks. I think that was the best information of the day.
The thought of my new puppy running around the yard. Ick. I was considering temporary fencing to keep him out. He was curious. What could we do about any of it except enjoy our luck?
We sat in the un-airconditioned house. At bedtime we shut seven windows. Two had no screens. Those were shut. A cool, early summer made the nights pleasant.
Bright and early but not the crack of dawn, Mr. Wildlife Lasso came by to assess the situation. The west eave was the quaint roost of seventeen bachelor bats. Which is interesting in that the east eave had a nursery with mother and babes numbering about seventy. The Gentleman's Quarters could be removed but the Babes in Toyland would remain until further decisions.
I really have not been scared of these bats. Like my baby sister comparing an ancient volcanic mountain while hiking in Colorado, "Mama, it's more scared of us?" These bats are not out to get a human although much lore is built up around them. The Lasso Man did tell tales of homes in the oldest part of town with hundreds of bats. That would be hair raising.
Hair raising. One of the terrors of being near a bat. Especially if you have lots of hairspray on. A bat could fly into your hair with totally ulterior purposes. Your neck is nearby. Two tiny bites is all it takes to become the walking dead marching with the Devil.
But this little baby bat clinging to the side of my house was fascinating. I could see him breathing and the formation of his muscles. He even had little fingers and toes. As we say, he had all of his parts. Really a marvel.
Mr. Wildlife Lasso had good news at first. But upon further inspection my nursery held about seventy bats. The amazing thing was this was a temporary roose. He said that one of our neighbors had a serious problem and the bats were being pushed out into temporary roosts because of overcrowding. Somehow the idea of overcrowding bats hanging in the attic does make your skin crawl.
Our baby bat nursery was quickly solved one night. He said they just packed up and moved out. The little fellows could still hold tightly onto mother. If the Gentleman Bats lived at the west end and seventy moms and tots were on the east end, does that make them Lady Bats?
Thankgoodness our situation was easily remedied.
The air conditioning took another few days. I went around blessing every inch of manufactured air. In relief, I went to shut the window blinds. It was then I realized that for all of this time, my nice big window with no screen was wide open all day long, just under the bat nursery. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day going around the house shaking curtains and peeking in tiny crevices. But if you see the Sheriff's car at my house some night, you will know...
