countdown to bat freedom

At 8pm last night there was a loud knocking at our side door. After struggling to get it open (the door is swollen from humidity and lack of use) we were face to face with THE BAT GUYS. Marshall and Andy Hanks are a father-son team from Door County, and they are experts at bat-proofing your house. They were at the end of a long day of work and wanted to let us know that they would be by early in the morning. Door county is a good 2-hour drive from here, and they had a long list of clients in the Marinette area, so they were heading to the Comfort Inn to get some sleep before another full day. Marshall (a lean, soft-spoken man in his 60s) wanted to know "how early do folks get up around here?" which was his way of asking how early they could come back. We -- being so completely happy just to see them after week of waiting -- said they could come as early as they needed to.

So, at 7am we were outside greeting Marshall and Andy as they pulled ladders and equipment from their trucks. There was a big storm brewing to the northwest and they were concerned about getting rained out. So they worked incredibly quickly, methodically surveying the roof-line and looking for any openings. They installed six "eliminators" which is bat-guy talk for a bat door that allows bat out but not back in. Apparently the roofers responsible for our roof never attached these plastic caps at either end of the roof peak. This baffled Andy who said they must have just forgotten to do this. (Imagine: hot summer day, roofers are weary, they want cold beer, they say to each other "let's go to the Packers bar down the street," they forget to cap the roof...) So, within an hour they were done. They guarantee their work for a full year, and Marshall promised: "by tonight at 10pm you will be bat free." Hallelujah!

sleepy peoples

I woke up this morning at 4:40 when I thought I heard the flapping of furious wings over my head. It turns out that it was a dream -- just a grand finale to a night of strange restlessness. It doesn't help that I was sleeping in between two of the warmest beings known to the planet earth. The heat generating unit known as Buddy is generally not allowed in the bed. However, when you are sleeping on a futon on the living room floor, there is little you can do to prevent little dogs from snuggling up to you in the dark of the night. Buddy is clever in that he waits until we are both fully asleep, and then he moves from his little doggy bed (made of corduroy and cheap filler) to our bed (lined with nice, soft, cotton sheets and a down comforter).This habit of mid-night migration has lead to many a confused morning in which we are all slightly rearranged. Yesterday morning, Rhonda sat up, looked around, and said "where's Buddy?" with genuine perplexity. Then, as if called forth by magic, a very rumpled looking dog-face emerged from directly between our heads. We had been so asleep and comfortable that we didn't notice that Buddy had wedged himself directly between us in the middle of the night. Good thing I didn't roll over -- he would have been one smashed dog-pancake.

Summer time

Today we took the day off. No housework. No unpacking. No bat-proofing. Nothing. Instead we slept in, did some reading and napping, and headed out to the Giebler's place in Porterfield. Buddy got to run around with the dogs (and chase some cats) and we picked veggies and then pickled them! Afterwards, David proclaimed "we just captured 19 jars of summer!" Good stuff.


On the bat front, we have called in the experts. Judith Johnson came by last night and checked the place out. She has a lot of experience working with bats as a ranger and biologist, and she can even identify the type of bat by looking at their poop (= guano). She had been in our second floor for five minutes when she turned to me and said, "Oh, Amy, I cant imagine a better space for bats. They LOVE it here." I think Judith thought this was rather cool and interesting. We promptly vacated the second floor and returned to sleeping in the living room.

So, we called more experts. There are these guys in Door County (the Hanks family) who have a patented "bat door" that they will install in your "point of access." After you pay them a bunch of money, they guarantee no bats for at least 2 years. At this point, it is *so* worth it. They should be coming out to us sometime soon -- there is a bit of a wait because it is the height of bat season.

BatsBatsBatsBats!

We have been attacked! Two of the past three nights of sleep have been interrupted when our valiant dog started barking at low flying critters in the bedroom. Yes, WE HAVE BATS IN OUR BEDROOM. You really haven't lived until you have attempted to formulate a battle plan for a bat counter-attack while hiding under the covers of your bed with a shrieking partner and barking dog at 3am.

We have, however, survived. For now.

Thanks to some sage advice from Judith Johnson, Shore Drive's resident bat expert, when our 2:30am bat call came last night we acted appropriately. Shrieked, screamed, huddled, and then opened the screen door and turned on the lights. After Buddy chased the critter around for 10 minutes all went quiet. We bravely searched the upstairs rooms with no signs of a bat. We then went to sleep -- with the lights on, of course.

The remaining fear is that, in the six or more months that the house has been vacant, the flying mammals have taken our attic bedroom for their own home. We have seen droppings in the closet. I think we now own 7 acres and a bat house.

In the meantime we have mostly unpacked and are stripping wallpaper. We completed the kitchen last night (gracias a dios) and are now getting ready to paint. This little house is starting to feel more like home. It is a pretty cool experience to work on things in your own house -- you get to know the structure and the "bones" of the place. And, after two years of sitting on my arse writing a dissertation (and, for R, years of emotional support work) it feels really good to be doing more physical work.

Critters in the night

Last night we crashed at around 9:30 after a full day of unloading, tearing down wallpaper, and unpacking. We were both out cold. That is, until 1:30 when Buddy started barking furiously at the ceiling. I thought that it was the dog being weird, but then I could faintly hear the scampering of little feet up above. The noise got louder. It definitely sounded like it was coming from the ceiling and not the roof (thought Rhonda still has hope that it was outside). We sat there blearily looking at each other realizing that this is one of those moments: "Oh shit. We own this place!"

So, we will be investing in some kind of trapping devices later today. Between setting mouse traps and scraping walls it is going to be a fun weekend!


PS. The cell phone is the only way to get a hold of us right now. We get some reception at home. Feel free give us a ring to dispense much-needed advice about a) wallpaper removal b) vermin removal or c) living amidst chaos.

PPS. Thanks for your concern about us driving through Minneapolis -- we got several calls & a text. Obviously, we are fine. However, it was really sad and jarring to hear about this event. I know it will be really hard event for people in the (MSP) community to deal with.