Yesterday I published a link to an NPR article about bats (n.pr/1Y5gN2X). I also wrote I had not realized the trouble we really were in when we lived in a log cabin in the woods in New Hampshire.
Here are two related excerpts from the chapter “Pollyanna-ville” in my memoir, A Movable Marriage.
“Another swoop, another scream, and I was in the bedroom with the door closed. The problem with the bedroom, however, was the door would not latch. How could I rest thinking the bat might come in there, too? In a flash I envisioned a dreadful scene. I would be sleeping—fitfully, no doubt—and a bat would become tangled in my hair.”
“When (the Bat Man) did arrive, the first exciting news was, he estimated we had as many as eighty of the critters hanging around above us in the center rafter.”
Now here’s an excerpt from the NPR piece:
“Public health officials say that another human rabies death back in 2011 involved similar missed opportunities. In that case, a South Carolina woman woke up to a bat in her bedroom and shook it out of curtains through an open window. She believed she’d had no direct contact with the bat, and did not seek medical attention.”
Yet she later died. Talk about counting our blessings!
We have bats here in Portugal, too. When Keith and I took an intensive course in Portuguese at the University of Coimbra, we learned about those inhabiting the Joanine Library.
The article reports that bats are also in the library of the Palacio Nacional in Mafra, less than ten minutes from where we currently live. We’re not in the rare book business, though, so I feel fairly safe.
Of course, it’s not over ‘til the bat lady sings.