Let me make this clear: I realize that bats are part of God's creation, that they are relatively harmless and eat lots of mosquitoes, so they are generally a good thing to have around. I like having them here, outdoors. The key word here is outdoors. Once one gets inside my living space, especially at night, I authorize all use of force necessary to get rid of it. Or, more accurately, I authorize my husband to use any means whatsoever to get rid of it, while I lie cowering under the covers. I have issues with flying rodents.
Last night, I had been asleep for maybe half an hour when I heard my husband say "Damn. There's a BAT in here!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw something fluttering and circling, too close, and I dove under the covers while spouse went to find a suitable bat removal tool. Since we aren't into tennis or badminton, the only thing he could find was the broom, a rather clumsy thing to swing at a bat with, especially in a very small cabin. He took a few swings at the bat in the living room, and then it disappeared for about twenty minutes. Bats are kind of frustrating in that they can hide in very small cracks and crevices when someone is swinging a long-handled object at them.
I was just getting the courage to peek out from under the covers when I saw it again, circling in the bedroom. "It's here!" I screamed and took cover.
"Open the patio door!" spouse yelled. Yeah, right. I'm going to get up, with a bat circling around my head, and open the door. Actually I don't even have to get out of bed to open the door, but that was too much exposure for a bat-phobe like me. So he went out the front door, around the house, and opened the patio door. Bat apparently was scared by this and left the bedroom. Spouse came back in through the front door.
It was then that I heard a little flurry of activity, a pause, then the sound of the broom hitting the floor.
"Got it! Right in midair!"
"Did you kill it?"
"No, Puff did! Leaped about three feet in the air and grabbed it!"
Puff is our blue eyed, cuddly, three month old kitten. Apparently he has some fine hunting skills in his genes. I believe this was his first catch ever. He has earned Spouse's utmost respect, and Spouse does not generally hold most felines in high regard. I am just grateful to Puff for allowing me to sleep in peace last night, without things fluttering around my face, although I am somewhat embarrassed that a kitten has more courage than me.