The Real Bat Girl

Note:  If you are a devout environmentalist, squeamish, or you accidentally pee when you laugh, please stop reading now.

OK.  You are still here.

On Friday Ed and I were at the cabin. . . alone.  All the kids were on Scout adventures, so we took the opportunity to go build the new railing on the deck and stain it.  We worked hard and didn't bother to eat anything except a couple of leftover Krispy Kreme donuts.  This could account for our behavior later in this tale.

Our friends Ron and Julie FOggin came down to unwind and go out to dinner with us.  This sounds relaxing and uneventful, huh.  But no.   We had a lovely chat about our kids and dogs and parades and obnoxious bands with the initals of W.J. and then we dove into a fierce game of hand and foot.  When you are sitting at the table in the cabin, there is a lovely view of our bird feeder.  Unfortunately, the chipmunks have found the feeder.  Ron tapped the window to scare the little guy off and he just looked at Ron and went right back to eating.  We were all stunned by the critter's brazen attitude, but it was too much for Ron.  He grabbed Parker's pump action BB gun, opened the window a crack and continued playing.  After about 20 minutes Chippy showed up at the feeder.  Ron picked up the gun, took aim (all the while sitting in his chair) and beaned the critter. 

By this time we were all laughing hysterically. . . especially when Ron buried Chippy. . . complete with a cross grave marker.  For those of you who enjoy gore. . . we were amazed at the clean shot and how the little intestines came right out.  Wow.  I guess that qualified us all as rednecks!

Not too long later we had moved back into the living room area when Ed noticed something moving up in the top of the cabin.  At first we thought it must be a mouse, but then we realized it was a bat.  Three out of four of us were standing, staring up at the roof with binoculars.  They don't work super well inside at fairly close range, but it must have been a funny sight.

Since Ron was all warmed up, he loaded the BB Gun and went up to the loft to get a close range shot.   

He shot the bat and all of a sudden it came flying out.  Julie and I screamed as it swooped down.  It was quite a scene.  The bat landed on the top window sill in the front of the cabin.  There are pretty large cracks and crevices in the sill and the bat went down into one of them.  We figured he was dead, but then we started seeing movement.  While surveying the scene, Lewis licked my foot and I screamed again like a little girl.  Then everyone was laughing at me.  Once I got my breath back, I was OK.

Julie just could not imagine leaving the bat up there, so Ed and Ron got the ladder while I kept watch on the flying critter.  Julie donned a surgical mask and two layers of procedural gloves.  I just about peed my pants when she announced that she was doing that because "Hey, I've read The Hot Zone and I know the importance of double gloving."  I, too, have read The Hot Zone, so I knew what she was talking about.

If you haven't scared yourself silly worrying about Ebola, you should.  Here's the link: The Hot Zone

Here she is gloved, masked, and heading up the ladder to do battle.

The tools of choice at the beginning of the adventure were two pairs of tongs.  About the time that this photo was taken, Julie started screaming "He's alive!  He has his mouth open and he's hissing at me!"  We were all laughing like fools by this time.  It was clear that more lethal tools were needed, so Ed put the dogs out and Ron handed her a BBQ fork.  After a few more exclamations an hisses, Julie stabbed the bat.

"I got him!  I stabbed him right through the mouth!"

We were all terrified that she was going to fall off the ladder if the bat flew out at her, so we were glad it had been stabbed. Dead.  But Ed was laughing so hard that he couldn't breath and he had to go outside.

She hauled the bat out of it's death hole using the tongs and climbed down until she could drop the little rat with wings into a cup.  BTW, what do you think of this stunning chandelier?  When it is on it makes the cabin look like it is on fire to the casual observer.  I will replace it one of these days and then I'l either sell it on ebay or host a blog give-away!!!

After the  bat was hastily done away with, we all washed thoroughly while we were still laughing uproariously.  My stomach hurt from laughing so much, but finally hunger had set in, so we headed to Mt. Pleasant to eat at Rodger's.  We laughed all the way there and halfway through dinner.  It was just a confluence of crazy occurences that set us off.

What a fun afternoon!  We hardly ever see the Foggins, so it was great to catch up.  Next time we get together, I am sure that we'll have another good laugh!

I Hate Snakes

The title of this blog really says it all. I hate them. Big ones, little ones, poisonous and non-poisonous. I hate them all. In fact, I hate them so much that I am happy to kill them. Yup. Me. The quintessential Mormon Mom, complete with Chevy Suburban, has a killer's heart.

I don't remember how it started. I don't remember ever being tormented with a snake or being frightened by one. I grew up in Maine where there were plenty of garter snakes, but apparently we didn't often cross paths. I think that the real hatred began about 11 years ago, right here in Lehi.

When we first moved to town, we lived in a house down on the south end of town. Jay and Jolene Richins' pasture was our neighbor and there were springs in that pasture. Consequently, there were little water snakes all over the place. (If I had realized THAT, we NEVER would have bought that house.) Whenever I went out to weed the garden, I would find at least one snake, so I took to wearing gloves and carrying scissors. Whenever I would find one of Satan's little buddies I would calmly grab it, carry it over to the trash can, and snip its head off with the scissors.

Remember. I did not say I was afraid of snakes. I HATE them.

I am still famous for the day I happened to grab three snakes and once and SNIP, SNIP, SNIP took care of the problem. When Parker introduced me to his 1st grade class many moons ago, he told the class that I cut snakes heads off with scissors. They were impressed. One day after that I was in Albertson's when I heard a little boy saying to his mother, "MOM! That's the snake killing lady!" I was proud.

But, no more. In the five years since we moved away from that house, I have gone soft. Monday was a lovely day and I was airing out the house and puttering in the backyard. As we ate dinner (yes. . . all five of us at the table at the sme time!) Colby got up for seconds. When he came back to sit down he startled and said, "There's a snake." Just like that. I, somewhat trepidaciously asked, "Where?" I assumed it was out on the patio- I sit with my back to the patio. "On the floor! It just came out from under my chair!"

(This is the part where I lost all my pride.)

I totally freaked out. I had my feet in the air and I was screaming. I screamed until I ran out of air. By that time, Ed was out of his chair and telling me to get up. I kept screaming that I didn';t know where to put my feet, to which he very unsympathetically answered, "On the floor!" By this time the snake, apparently frightened by the vibrations of my hysterical screaming, had gone down the grate into the duct. I was able to force my feet ontpo the floor long enough to climb on top of Ed's chair. I was no longer screaming, but suddenly I realized I wasn't breathing either. A few gasps took care of that issue.

Parker took the grate off the duct (in the floor by the sliding glass door) and pronounced that he could not see the snake. I just knew that snake was going to be happily gliding through my house using the duct system as it's own personal thruway. I had visions of Harry Potter's basilisk hanging out in there. I was on the verge of screaming again when I was sent to my room- and ordered to take the dogs with me. (As if I could go anywhere in the house without Lewis and Clark following me. . .) It only took about 5 minutes before the all clear was sounded. Parker had used a plastic sword to fling the offender outside.

What surprises and dismays me the most is that he and Ed LET IT LIVE! All snakes should be killed. Period.

I had gotten out of the habit of always wearing gloves outside and carrying scissors, but I promise I will be properly prepared before my next weeding session! And I don't go barefoot in my house anymore. It is no longer the sanctuary I once imagined it to be.