—by Jacqueline Pollauf

The three officers of our local harp chapter have gotten to know each other well over the years. We all have our strengths when it comes to working together and we know who is best suited to run Zoom meetings, print programs, or tactfully explain to audience members that no, we don’t wish we had played the flute. However, these skills weren’t of any use during the fateful meeting that took place one spring night. All was serene as we sat down around our vice president’s dining room table and officially called the meeting to order. Lemonade and tea were handed around and conversation had turned to the first item on our agenda, an upcoming student event, when our treasurer paused mid-sentence. 

Unfortunately, excellent harp hand positions do not equate to natural badminton technique…

“Did you hear that?” he asked. 

We glanced around the room, but nothing seemed out of place. We returned to the question of whether to announce that ensemble participants should refrain from audible swearing, given last year’s unfortunate incident. But there it was again—a faint fluttering noise. We craned our necks and had just convinced ourselves that everything was fine, when a dark shape slipped from the ceiling and into the next room. 

“Oh no!” the vice president cried. “Not another bat! We haven’t had one for years!” 

At that, the three of us were on our feet and into the living room to witness the bat in action, flapping rapidly across the ceiling.

Our vice president was distressed, explaining that bats roosted in the eaves of the house and occasionally found a way in. Her husband had become a reluctantly skilled bat catcher with her assistance during past encounters, but he was already sound asleep. Should our vice president wake him, despite his early morning job at a local TV station? Could we open the front door and hope that the bat might eventually find its own way out? 

Not for us, we decided, and declared a course of action! If we could deal with brides demanding that we play outside in thunderstorms, handle convoluted banking regulations for non-profit accounts, and wrestle harps in and out of historic churches, surely we could capture a bat! Our vice president produced a pair of badminton rackets from behind her gig bag, and, duly armed, we began closing in on the bat. Unfortunately, excellent harp hand positions do not equate to natural badminton technique, and our inexperience quickly drove the bat to the second story. 

Undeterred, we expanded our arsenal to include a blanket, and stealthily crept up the stairs, where we now found ourselves with the added challenge of the sleeping husband just behind a closed bedroom door. After a whispered discussion, we assumed strategic positions in the hallway and, despite multiple failed attempts, succeeded in coaxing the frightened bat into the blanket. Gently and gingerly we transported the squirming bundle down the stairs. Our vice president whisked open the front door and the three of us thankfully released our newfound friend out into the night air. 

Our mission accomplished, we trooped back into the dining room for a celebratory bottle of wine. Having thoroughly discussed how ensemble skills translate directly to team bat catching, we eventually returned to more important matters: should we serve cookies or cupcakes for the upcoming student event? In the end, we decided on both! •

—Jacqueline Pollauf 

Baltimore, Maryland