Knowledge is power. And this week I was schooled …

I was about to pull into my garage, but my eldest son gestured to me to stay in the driveway. He was holding our small dog. He climbed into my car and started to relay the excitement. He didn’t get far. My husband emerged from the house. Despite the heat, he was wearing a hooded, long-sleeve shirt, long pants, gloves, and a face shield. He stepped into the car. I looked around. Where was our youngest son? “Oh, he’s inside. Looking for the bat. We think we trapped it in our room, but we can’t find it.”

I had been at a three-hour meeting. I was tired. I had a headache. I needed to use the facilities. But I was sitting in my car with my dog jumping on my lap, staring at my house like it was something out of a Hitchcock movie.

My youngest texted. He had found the bat. My husband went back inside. I quickly searched online for animal control. (Was it even animal control that I needed?) I texted my husband to make sure our bedroom windows were open.

I was done waiting. I went inside, with my eldest (official “Keeper of the Dog”) and dog in tow. My bladder could wait no longer. Within minutes my youngest came out, looking as ridiculous as my husband. My husband right behind him. They believed the bat was gone. I burst out laughing. My three guys weren’t amused. They had been on full alert for almost two hours. Each time they thought the bat was gone, it had reappeared again.

As their nerves and heart rates settled down, full accounts were finally revealed. At one point or another, each one of them had dropped to the floor as in a game of dodgeball. One had achieved a full-on belly flop in the kitchen. Two admitted to curling up into fetal positions and considered staying there. One had crated our dog accidentally in the room where the bat had been isolated. (The mistake was realized instantly, and the dog was rescued immediately.) All three confessed to screaming. And all were convinced the bat was an adult with a “massive” wingspan. Oh, and the methodology to hunt through curtains and closets, while not scientific, was thorough (first “stick, then flick, and flip”).

I looked at my husband’s gloves. They were blue. The disposable kind used by medical professionals. The pinky was ripped, and he was wearing a Band-aid. Not to worry; the bat hadn’t bitten him. He had cut himself on the dog gate. I joked he’d need one of those chemical spray baths.

We had a good laugh and then talked about what we did know. We needed to do a quick search for bat droppings (or guano). We didn’t want our cats or dog coming into contact with it. And we vacuumed through the areas where the bat had been spotted. We discussed where it could and couldn’t have been hiding because bats don’t have the ability to take off from the ground. I knew this because this was our second bat.

But as I went to bed in our guest room (some of us weren’t 100% certain the bat was gone), I cursed the fact that despite learning some about bats after our first “house guest” years ago, I still hadn’t learned the most necessary information. I didn’t know what to do if someone were injured, and I didn’t know who to call for help. How had I not learned my lesson the first time?

As if Big Brother had been listening, I opened social media the next day, and the Maine CDC had posted about bats. Seriously.

So, here’s my public service announcement for Mainers. From July through September, bats are active and can find their way into your homes, through the smallest of openings. They can carry rabies and other diseases that pose a danger to humans and animals. Isolate the bat, open a window, and they’ll often fly out. If you or a pet have come into contact, try to trap the bat for testing at Maine’s Health and Environmental Testing Laboratory.

My guys may have looked like Ghostbusters, but they had the right idea. Wear long protective clothing, and do not attempt to capture a bat with bare hands; leather gloves are best. Wash any scratch or bite for 10-15 minutes. Then contact your health care provider or veterinarian immediately.

Because I have some new numbers saved in my cell, I’ll rest easier at night. My family can return to arguing about who deserves to be called Batman. Clearly, I do. My claim? It wasn’t until I returned from my meeting that the bat left our home.

Now, let me tell you about how one of the Kochs was bitten by a tick …

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