You may think that running around in one’s underwear wildly flailing about with a pink butterfly net in the bedroom might seem a bit odd, but for me, it’s just another day.
My family has lived here in the Leakey area going on 18 years now. Before that we lived in Kerrville, and we still consider K-town to be our bigger home, but we love the small-town life. I mean really small town, and so here we are.
One negative characteristic of our home, however, is that it is also a typical dwelling for bats - earning the obvious nickname from the kids, “the bat cave.” During the warmer months, it is not unusual for bats to find their way into our home, and this can cause considerable drama for the Kerr clan.
Recently, I was catching up on some late reading in the back bedroom before drifting off for a long summer’s eve nap. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught some movement, and through my blurry reading glasses, I quickly recognized that I was not alone. A large bat was swooping across the bedroom, and suddenly made a strafing run inches above my face. You know how people say that when faced with blind terror, some men can think very clearly? Me neither, and so enveloped in a king-size comforter, I covered the distance from the bed to the door in about three nanoseconds - screaming like a second-grade school girl.
Whoever coined the phrase “for every job, there is the perfect tool” never thought of this particular scenario. I had little confidence that I could hit the bat with my .45 pistol, and as I contemplated having to explain bullet holes in the ceiling to my wife, I scrapped the whole idea of armed resistance. In fact, the only weapon I could find suitable for the mission on quick notice was my daughter’s butterfly net, and knowing that my wife and kids expected some action from the patriarch of the home, I screwed up the courage to go on the offensive and take my bedroom back from the little sonar-guided rodent.
Luckily, the back bedroom has an exterior door, and I ran outside, opened the door, and then came back to the hallway door hoping that my blitzkrieg attack would push the little sucker back outside from whence he came. I don’t remember much about the charge. There was lots of shrieking and squealing, which is peculiar because I’ve never shrieked much less squealed before. I’m not entirely sure that the plan worked because I never actually saw the bat fly out of the room, but when the dust from busted furniture and drywall settled, it was all quiet on the western front.
On another occasion, we had some friends spending the evening with us, and my buddy, Joe, had drug a mattress into the living room for the night. Everyone had just settled into silence when, all of a sudden, I could hear Joe screaming like he was being attacked by zombies. By the time I got there, both families had gathered just outside the living room, and had joined in the shriek fest. I peered around the corner, and there was Joe completely enveloped from head to toe in a sleeping bag with the King Kong of bats flitting about his head.
There were three boys over the age of 17 in the gang, and not one of them was brave enough to take charge, and so it was up to me to evict the winged mammal from the living room. I grabbed a broom, and stormed into the melee, swinging blindly.
I must have been blessed on that particular evening with supernatural powers because they say you can’t hit a bat with a bat (ha - get it). They are just too fast. However, with one hard swing, I connected perfectly, and if it had been a baseball, it would have been the equivalent of hitting a walk-off home run in the last game of the world series. I mean I parked the sucker so hard that at first I thought I’d vaporized him.
After a few moments, though, we found him deceased in the fireplace. Feeling guilty for making our guests uncomfortable, I only held the bat over Joe’s head for a minute whilst the kids got a good laugh, but the wimp never peeked out of his sleeping bag during the whole event.
Everything seems to be okay now. Just a couple more counseling sessions for my kids, and they should be back to normal. I guess the bats learned their lesson or migrated off because they haven’t returned for a while. Smart thing for them, too, because I have my pink butterfly net right next to the bed for quick access if they ever have second thoughts. Broom’s right over in the corner.
For comments or questions, contact John Kerr at john@ctcinspect. com.