One time we had a bat in our house. I think I was about 10 at the time. We were still living in Philadelphia. My mother had her recorder group over and a bat swooped around the living room, knocking into the lamps and walls.

The music abruptly ceased as the recorder consort was plunged into chaos. Everyone was screaming and ducking to avoid the bat, music stands were knocked over and sheet music was scattered. Then as suddenly as it had begun, all was still again, with no sign of a bat anywhere. The recorder group resumed playing, but ten minutes later the scene was repeated when the bat swooped in again. This time, my mother took action. She called the next door neighbor and she called the Philadelphia police. I'm not sure why she called the neighbor, but she got there before the police did with a kercheief covering her hair, a clove of garlic tied around her neck and a broom held high, ready to swat bats. They turned off all the lights and went bat hunting but still hadn't found the bat when the police arrived. One cop located the bat, hanging upside down from a wastepaper basket. The other asked my mother for an old blanket. He took the bat outside, placed the blanket over it, and beat it to death with his billy club.

The end.

jp