This family already has bats in its attic. And under the eaves, but that’s another species entirely. The attic is occupied by monster bats (actually, medium sized long eared bats) with a wingspan of 25-28cm. Quite something when one swoops past a sleepy teenager on his way to bed.
Now we have one of the monster bats loose in the house. And no, I don’t know where it is. Personally, I think this is because I failed to get out of bed and take charge as soon as the screaming and banging started. Past midnight and I normally leave the kids to it.
From last night’s uproar it appears that our interloper was large enough to be sporting a natty bow tie and silk lined cape. Having entered through Henry’s window, one look at what passes for a carpet was sufficient to convince the bat that there were no soft and delicate females in the vicinity, and so it headed up the back stairs towards more interesting targets.
At this point, His Nibs decided to take charge. All I can say is that gladiatorially speaking, the lions would have been having a picnic in the corner while HN was marking out his plan of attack in the sand with a sharp stick and the rest of the Christians were planning how to beat him to death with his own sandal.
HN’s principal contribution consisted of opening his teenage daughter’s bedroom door and yelling ‘there’s a bat!’ at the top of his voice while holding the door open long enough for an entire army of Twilight fans to troop in for a good viewing.
Cue hysterical screeching from daughter. To be fair, she had been asleep (as had I, but then I’m used to him).
Meanwhile, as eldest son pointed out rather scathingly, our teenage would-be vet and all round conservationist simply barricaded himself inside a room with the Sky remote, and declared it a bat-free zone. Allegedly this was a helpful contribution to the bat hunt that was by now rampaging across three floors of the house.
At one point there was a loud thud: eldest son threw himself across the floor in a move worthy of a Grand Slam try, as – according to him – a giant bat had attempted to fly up his shirt.
At least eldest son was attempting to close doors and open windows to locate the bat. For some reason HN thought it funny to continue opening Dear Daughter’s door at intervals and saying ‘whoo- whoo’.
Cue even more screeching.
As a result, somewhere in this house is a frightened and probably exhausted bat. Guess whose job it is to find it and gently coax it to leave?