Bats are noisy little bastards. Fact.
A few weeks ago, a bat took up residence above my ceiling. To be precise, in a little nook right above the head of my bed. He squeaks, he scuttles and scrambles, then he squeaks some more.
And these aren’t the squeakings of a shy creature. These are some kind of echo-location powered, totally-audible-to-the-human-ear, maddeningly shrill, brain-drilling bleeps of awfulness.
I don’t know if this bat is confused or just lazy, but he seems to spend most of his time at home. He’s normally quiet during daylight hours, with the exception of a half-hour squeak session at about 5 pm. But as soon as I go to bed, he starts. And he doesn’t stop.
I’ve tried shouting at him. I even tried reasoning with him at 4 o’clock in the morning. He just doesn’t listen. Worse still, it seems like he took my attempts to communicate as a proposal of friendship, even companionship.
Three times in the last few days, he has hopped down from his nook straight onto my bed. I sleep on the left. He lands with a slight thud on the right. He stops squeaking, but I feel his presence, his tiny eyes watching me.
Now, I don’t like bats when they get too close. They walk like miniature pterodactyls (pterosaurs, to be precise) , scurrying around on their little winged arms. That’s what it looks like anyway; I may be anatomically incorrect about this. Whatever, it’s just weird and wrong. And I definitely don’t want to share my bed with one.
Thankfully, I have the bat box. The bat box once housed an Imaco iron. It now serves as a temporary, overnight mobile home for the bat. As soon as the bat lands on my bed (or anywhere else in the room), I place the open end of the box near his scrunched-up little face.
At first, he was cautious, but now he knows the score. He immediately runs into the depths of the box, after which I carry the box outside. I guess it’s kind of like camping. He seems to be OK with it.
Waking up at 4 am every night to take the bat out isn’t ideal. Yesterday, I managed to block off the nook (incorporating some soundproofing) and it seems to have worked. I slept soundly last night, didn’t hear a peep.
I’m hoping the bat will come to terms with the separation. Breaking up is hard to do, but some things were just never meant to be…
Have you named your new found guest yet?
I agree that they are prehistoric looking and enjoy watching them devour mosquitos and other flying insects that travel at night around our house.
However, as you, I do not think they would make a good sleeping partner nor drinking buddy. Maybe share a fat rum and coke!!
I never gave him a name (nothing polite, anyway). He seems to have moved on — I haven’t heard anything for three days. Hopefully he’ll find someone else to hang out with, poor little bugger…
hahahaha, love the story! I hope he found a new ‘haunt”
Well, he came back then disappeared again. Hopefully for good….
Ha,ha,ha U must be thankfull to Imaco !!!!!
Yeah, that Imaco box was definitely useful. Now I always associate Imaco with bats, which is kind of strange….
Sorry for the late reply. If there ever was a bat in my home, I think that I’d go crazy, and for many, the possibility of having bats in ones house would be the perfect argument to stay away from Tarapoto.
This is brilliant, I plan to try the same thing on the crazy spiders I’m encountering in Australia.