Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Bring Out Your Dead

I don't want the bats to die in my house. Honestly. I just want them to move away.

Yet, for some reason, when I make my daily run to the house, I seem to come across the little brown bats in my house. Yesterday was unprecedented. I found THREE. Granted, I'd been gone all weekend. But still. THREE. Little Brown Bats # 4, 5, & 6.

The first one was another fly trap incident. Again, we haven't used sticky traps up in the attic. We want the bats to move away, remember? But we don't feel the same about the flies. They can die sticky deaths. But it looks like another bat flew into one of the fly traps downstairs:

Wait, are his eyes still open? Ahhh, he's not quite dead!

Then there was the bat that I found on my way out the front door. I reached out to open the door and looked down, EEK! Dead bat on the floor. I nearly stepped on it barefoot.

Aw, not the creepy fingers again. I put on some gloves and went to pick the poor little guy up.

AHHHH! He's not quite dead either. Can't they just stay in the attic?!
FANGS!! Don't bite me, I don't want rabies!!! Good thing I picked him up from behind.

Then there's the last bat. Ok, he wasn't technically inside the house. He was in front of the house. By the curb. And he was definitely not yet dead. He was flopping about using his wings to move around.
Of course, I didn't want to pick him up. He's still semi-alive and actually MOVING A LOT. But I wasn't averse to snapping a picture or two.

Then one of the guys who has been working on the house across the street comes over and asks me for a pair of gloves. He picks up the bat and takes him to the woods behind my back yard. Apologizes ands says he has a soft spot for animals.

Well. I feel like a jerk.

Oh well, I'm jaded when it comes to bats. I don't see them the same way as ,say, a dog. If you were kicking a dog, I'd be really angry with you. But if a bat is dying in or near my house, I'm not likely to shed a tear. I just want it to go away. Mostly because it smells, might have rabies, poops in my attic, and, oh yeah, looks like a giant bug when it's wings are folded.

I'm a bad person. But there you have it.

I'm starting to feel like the dead collector from Monty Python. Now I just need the little bats to jump up and start singing "I'm not yet dead!"