Bat Country.
For the fourth time in less than a week, we discovered a bat flapping around the house.
This morning I was awakened by unusual sound, a kind of ticking screech. tick tick tick tickticktickSCREEEEEtickticktick tick tick!
Oh, crap, I thought. A bat.
Another bat. A bat that's apparently angry about something.
Because of my now-extensive experience with bats in the house, I know that bats are quiet. If you're close enough you might hear the swish of their wings through the air. Otherwise, all you'll hear are soft thumps and scratches as they flit around making contact with walls and furniture.
A tick-screeching bat is a bat that's upset about something. Maybe a cat's gotten it, I completed my thought. By now the screeching had stopped. I closed my eyes and pretended I had dreamed it, and figuring I'd be able to clean up bat remains after the alarm clock went off.
Thump! Scratch!
Nope, it wasn't a dream. I went room to room, looking for a flapping bat, and closing the doors. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, thinking I could use it to catch the flapping varmint and toss it outside. I knew Barbara would not approve of this plan, but she was blissfully unaware...
My plan: drive the bat out the back door. If that doesn't work out, drive it upstairs into the cul-de-sac hallway, then call animal control.
Coming downstairs, I found all the cats in the living room. Sophie up on the back of one of the chairs. The bat flapped by my head.
This story has no end. The bat did not go upstairs into the dead end. It went downstairs, into the basement, with its billion place for a bat to hide. I took a flashlight and looked around for a few minutes, but found no sign of the bat. It'll probably come out again tonight.
Barbara's calling animal control today to find out if they have any recommendations. I have no idea how they're getting in, but we're operating on the the assumption that there's a colony in the attic. More news as it develops...