Before my residence was even my home (dating all the way back to high school when it was simply where my “weed connection” lived), it was already referred to by anyone who visited as “the Trail’s End” due to its physical location at the spill-out point of a foot-trail that finales with a foot-bridge crossing a creek bed. The point of my sharing this is to emphasize the way that we regularly get visited by “wild” animals; either inside or somewhere on the property, and are called to action to do some chasing, nursing or exterminating – depending of course, on the wild visitor and its disposition. With the creek being right across the way, we have learned, for example, that we will get bullfrogs in the carpets if we leave the front door open for too long during the rainy season; or there’s the running possibly that we’ll be someday re-visited by any one of the handful of HUGE raccoons that hail from the sewer drains right at the curb (it’s a specific few of the much larger family of raccoons that we seem to have waged war with). There are always new creatures popping up in the extreme weather on either end of the scale, so we are pretty good about staying on our toes when it comes to response times and reactions in the context of an unexpected “wild” visitor from the adjacent creek bed. We have collectively dealt with such intrusions many times together in the past, and because of such historical successes in this realm, we were COMPLETELY UNPREPARED for last night’s surprise night caller.

I was walking from the kitchen with my hands full of stoner snacks and a cup of water when it all happened; as I passed by the entry hallway leading in from the front porch, a torpedo seemed to hit me…seriously.
I was thwacked so hard in my face by what I was sure must have been a grenade or some kind of rogue projectile firecracker or some shit; I saw stars briefly as my hands reflexively went limp in any grip I had previously had on my stuff. It was sometime around that moment that I realized the “grenade” was a bad theory – grenades don’t flutter into walls like drunken birds.
I have never actually seen a bat before last night up close and personally; and I’m sure that intentional – as I wouldn’t suggest to anyone to go out to the sticks and try finding one – they’re fucking creepy, lightning fast little fuckers. the entire saga of last night’s events pertaining to the intruding bat can be easily and quite accurately summed up in this video clip, though…so I figured, “fuck it…why not sum it up for everyone?”
…and I am sadly NOT exaggerating when I say that this is an accurate depiction of the responses to the bat being in the house that were put forth by me and my roommate last night. Enjoy!

4 thoughts on “Batty.

  1. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

    We get bats here. I have rescued a few. Among other things. That clip cracked me up. That waste paper thing over his head.. so funny. I have never seen a real racoon though. If I come visit ever I am leaving the front door open, and waiting.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. kat says:

    we occassionally got bats in our building where i used to work. it was an assisted living center, and one night, on night shift, one got on one of our 3 floors. it never hit either of us, but it did fly down the hallways at great speed. you could only become aware of it right before it flew over your head. luckily we had a great maintenance guy who came up and caught it with a net.

    Liked by 1 person

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