So you wanna be a roofer, huh?
I was once at the top of a forty-foot ladder, laden with tools, with the ladder leaned against a house where one rake board transitioned into another rake board at the spot an addition met the main house. Forty feet is plenty high to be lethal, and give you the feeling it’s lethal, too. Without any warning, a bat — one bat — came out of the seam and hit me square in the face, thrashed around a bit, and fluttered off.
In theory, no matter what, you’re never supposed to let go of the ladder. Earthquake, fire, gunshots, surprise parties, whatever — your natural inclination to wave your hands around must be countered. It’s hard to override a bazillion years of fight or flee, but it’s easy to see who can manage it. They’re not blogging just now.
The bats are just a lark for these fellows. Watch out for the histoplasmosis, guys! It’s more painful than marriage, but less deadly in the long run.