Nightmare on Milledge Street

Over the summer I had been hearing mysterious noises in the walls of the second story of my house. My husband convinced me it was birds for a while, but I had this foreboding feeling that it was something else.

Last month I hired Handyman Dave to do some much needed repairs to my office and house. While he was replacing a light fixture on the second story landing near my office, I heard his ladder shudder in a way that wasn’t very safe. Then, I heard him say in a murky tone, “Mrs. Blount, You have rats.”

I peered around the corner at him, “Rats?”

“Yup, one just ran across the vent here.”

“Ok. Well, I’ve got rat poison. Will you put it up there for me?”

I got it for him and he found the access door to the attic just outside my son’s bedroom, poked his head up there to place the box of rat poison as I supervised from several feet away. Then, I heard his muffled voice say, “Mrs. Blount. You have bats.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “What are you talking about!?”

“I can smell the guano and … hear that sound?” He pulled his head from the access and replaced the door. Sure enough, I heard the sound I'd been hearing all summer long - scratching, fluttering and muffled screeching sounds.

I stood there in disbelief as I pondered what to do next. Action. Yes, I needed to call somebody. Luckily, my sister gave me the name of a pest control company to contact.

I made the call and within a few days a pest control truck arrived in front of my house. When the man got out of his truck, he stood there a moment and said, “Yes 'mam, I smell ‘em. They’re all over the neighborhood.”

I said, "Are you the bat man?"

He responded, "No 'mam, I'm the Bat Specialist!" Then, he whirled around and I noticed he was wearing a cape with the letters “BS” emblazoned on it! Those particular letters didn't impress me much, but I had to hope that Bat Specialist is what they meant.

The Bat Specialist walked around the house and immediately discovered the bat access on the roof. A plan was made for his return to insert some kind of contraption that would allow the bats to leave the house but not be able to return. Then, once they are gone, he would return to plug the bat hole completely to prevent the bats from coming back to roost in my house.

The day finally arrived when the Bat Specialist (cape billowing) installed the bat pipe to my roof. He encouraged me to go out at dusk and watch the bats leave for the last time that night. I was so intrigued by this idea and at dusk I did exactly that. I ran out to my backyard to watch the bats' mass exodus. I waited and waited. Finally, I heard some scratching and screeching at the roof line, but nothing was exiting through the pipe contraption. I was worried. Why weren’t they leaving yet? More scratching and louder screeching. Horrors! They were trapped! Not one bat managed to get out that night. I went back inside and bit my nails and worried about what was going to happen next. My husband wasn’t home and my son’s bedroom is upstairs.

I made my son sleep downstairs that night – just in case. I slept with one eye open and listened as the bats continued to screech for most of the night. It was a horrible sound.

The next morning, I crept up the stairs to see if any had gotten inside. Sure enough, there was one fuzzy, black bat clutching the edge of the attic access exactly where Handyman Dave had been last week. I ran back downstairs and called the Bat Specialist. He was asleep! And, at 9:00am, he seemed rather unconcerned at my plight and said to call him back if MORE got in! More!!! I was a wreck.

Thank goodness my accountant was coming that day so I wouldn’t be all alone with the bats. In fact, the accountant proved to be a hero by removing the bat for me before he left for the day. Imagine that?! An accountant as a hero!

That evening I attended my son’s football game, so we weren’t home at dusk. We were excited and carefree after a big team win upon arriving home. I had forgotten all about the bat problem and had begun to settle down with my computer to continue working in the living room and my son had gone upstairs to his room. In my peripheral vision I thought I caught some movement in the hallway. I looked up just in time to see a large winged thing swooping past the doorway.

“Bat!” I screamed. I tossed my computer on the couch and crept toward the hallway. I called out, “Stay where you are, Jeb, there’s a bat down here!”

He yelled back, “I see it! I’m on the stairs. I’ll get the rackets!” Teens and weapons! Good gravy.

“No! Stay away from it! I’ll call your uncle and cousins to help! Run, run away, keep running!” (Monty Python’s, The Holy Grail) Jeb armed himself with two tennis rackets and was ready for battle. He knew this might be the one time he had license to break things in the house if in pursuit of the bats from Hell and to save his mama. I can’t say he was wrong.

Meanwhile, I was still in the living room armed with a cell phone in the right hand and snarling, mini dachshund in the left, desperately trying to call my brother in law. He is the only one close enough who has had plenty of experience battling bats along with my teenage nephews, and I needed them all to come rescue us.

As I was talking on the phone, the bat in the hallway apparently heard me. It suddenly flew into the room heading straight for my forehead! His beady, blood red eyes locked with my surprised, chocolate colored eyes. He zoomed toward me and I flung my head back Matrix-style, narrowly avoiding collision. Unfortunately, my arms also flung out dropping my cell phone and tossing my surprised dog to the floor as my feet flew up simultaneously. I landed on my backside staring up at a rather triumphant bat.

I quickly scrambled to my phone yelling, “Can you hear me? Hello!?” only to discover I had somehow placed my brother-in-law on hold. I tried to push the button to unhold the call as I commando crawled toward the dining room door, ducking my head each time the beastly bat dive-bombed me. After reaching the other room, I slammed the door shut against the screeching bat and noticed my dog, Peanut, staring indignantly at me from across the room. I could see that she was considering which shoe she would poop in later to punish me for daring to drop her on the floor.

I ran to the kitchen to find my son snickering and brandishing his tennis rackets. I ignored his mirth as he coughed that he was going in after the bat in the living room. I’m glad he thinks this is so funny. “I’ll get a wet towel to throw on it!” I said. Suddenly, I heard my phone ringing somewhere.

“Hello.” I said.

“We’re coming. What happened? I heard a scream and then a thud! I thought an intruder had gotten in and attacked you!” yelled my brother-in-law.

“No! It was the bat, you fool! The bat dive-bombed me and I fell down!” I said.
Silence. I’m sure I heard a bit of snickering on the other end just before he said, “OK. We’re on our way. Lock yourselves in a room.”

I guess I’m the only one who realizes these aren’t butterflies hanging out in my house?

I got the wet towel and Jeb and I headed toward the living room. He eased the door open. Swoop, swoop, swoop. There is nothing so creepy as a big, freakin’ bat swoopin’ in circles around your living room light fixture. Jeb moved into the room with his rackets and I stood at the door with the towel. The bat immediately swooped at him and Jeb swung, but missed. I screamed – that was my contribution.

I said, “Do you want to use the towel to knock him down?” He tried it and missed again. That thing was fast!

We left that room and headed upstairs to get more rackets. We heard a scratching sound in my office. Jeb moved in, rackets outstretched. Again, I hung by the door. The sound seemed to be coming from the closet. He slid it open and - HORRORS! - another bat flies out and straight through the other door to Jeb’s bedroom! Jeb opened the attic walk-in access door and two more swoop out of there and start dive-bombing him.

I screamed, “Get out, get out!”

Jeb yelled, “I can’t, they’ve got me trapped!”

As I considered how I was going to rescue my son, I saw him swing both rackets several times until he finally made contact and knocked one bat flat against a futon. The other bat had flown into Jeb’s bedroom to join the first one. We both ran toward the stunned bat and Jeb trapped it between the two rackets before it could get its’ bearings. I ran ahead down the stairs and opened the front door with Jeb close behind me. He goes to toss the bat outside only to discover the bat isn’t there. We have no idea where it went! Either it fell out in the house or we missed it flying off outside as soon as we got to the door. We have no idea but it was very disheartening after all that work.

It occurred to me about that time that the attic door was still open and that’s where the bats had migrated to after being trapped on the other side of the house the night before. That air draft was leading them to that door to get out! I had to go back up and close it. Jeb refused to go back up anymore and I didn’t blame him. I took the rackets from him and told him to go to the kitchen. I marched steadfastly back up the stairs and saw that three bats were busy swooping in circles around the light in Jeb’s room. I slammed his doors shut and then crept into my office and quickly slammed the attic door shut too. I went back downstairs to wait in the kitchen for help.

My family did come, but were only able to find one bat and remove it. They were very disappointed and so was I. The rest of the bats had hidden themselves well to await another opportune time to attack me. I packed up myself and my son and slept at my mother in law’s house that night. Then, I went to the beach for the weekend for much needed R&R.

Meanwhile, the so called “Bat Specialist” came back and fixed his rather imperfect bat removal contraption and assured me the bats would be able to leave THIS time. I was afraid to believe him and was not holding my breath. But I was holding my back which was a little stove up after my Matrix moves.

It took several days, but eventually they did leave. We had a few more nights of battling with the leftover bats, but by then my son became very apt at slapping those suckers down (only stunning them) and putting them outside to go on their merry way.

I am completely traumatized, but my back has recovered from my fall at least. I still sleep with one eye open and listen for the telltale screeching and scratching that accompanies the bats' presence during the day. I fear I will hear that sound even when it is no longer there. Halloween approaches, bats still swoop around the street lights in the neighborhood and, our house is the Nightmare on Milledge Street.

Don’t close your eyes, My Pretties! We’re watching you!! Screech, Screech, Screech!