I opened my eyes. The only light in the dark room was the soft glow coming from an electric alarm clock on the bureau; the only sound, its quiet, steady tick-tock. Waking during the night at least once isn’t uncommon for me. Happily wiggling into a more comfortable position, I prepared to drift back to sleep.

The sound of the scrabbly, scritch-scratch of a small rodent made my eyes pop open again. I thought with resignation, “I have mouse in the house. That figures. It’s exactly a year since I last had one.”

While trying to remember where I put the mouse trap I had used last January, I heard a new sound. It was the distinctive rapid, high-pitched chatter that bats make. Then I felt something swooping low over the bed. It made one pass, then a second. When my night-time visitor tried to land on the bedroom wall, its leathery wings fluttered against the textured-plaster as it tried to get a toe hold.

I debated with myself, “Do I have to get up? Maybe I can just ignore it.” With a reluctant sigh, I decided the bat might keep me awake by fluttering around, so the best thing to do was remove it from my room.

I’m not afraid of bats. Leastways, not anymore. I’m ashamed to admit there was a time I not only demanded that someone other than myself capture the creature, but that it be put to death. Continue reading →