The phrase "You're got bats in your belfry" is purely metaphorical to most people, but for the church I attended throughout my childhood, it was absolutely literal.
The belfry was located above one of the two entrances into the sanctuary. The vestibule below it had a pull-rope for ringing the bells when it was time for the worship service to begin (shortly after the end of Sunday school). However, a colony of bats lived in the belfry, which meant that guano falling through the rope hole was a recurring problem, and a serious health hazard. Eventually, the church had to thoroughly seal off the belfry from the rest of the building, after installing a system by which the bells could be rung by pushing a button rather than pulling a rope.
Because of that hole, and because that vestibule was the exterior entrance to the sanctuary, a bat would occasionally find its way inside the building. I recall two occasions when this happened when I was present at the church, which had very different endings.
The first time was during a youth group meeting held in the sanctuary one evening. Towards the end of the meeting, a bat started swooping around the sanctuary, freaking out most of the kids. As the only adult present, our youth leader took it upon himself to get the animal out of the building. He found a broom and swatted the bat out of the air. However, he hit it a lot harder then he intended, and it went BOOM into the paneling right below the framed painting of Jesus above the altar. The youth leader had an immediate and intense attack of guilt--he had hurt this tiny creature, and now Jesus was glaring at him!--so he carefully collected the stunned animal, putting it into a bucket until it recovered. I think he stayed there watching over it long after the rest of us were picked up by our parents.
A few years later, when I was in high school, someone spotted a bat clinging to the frame of a stained glass window in the sanctuary. This was during the brief gap between Sunday school and the worship service, so the room was still largely empty and quiet, but wouldn't be for long. I retrieved a ladder and gloves from the janitor's closet, and climbed up to very carefully pry the bat off the window. I held it gently but firmly in my hand as I climbed down and took it outside. Along the way, the bat caught the attention of many of the younger kids as they were leaving their Sunday school classes, so once we were outside, I held the bat so they could get a closer look, but warned them not to touch it. After a couple minutes of this, I found a high ledge on the outside of the building where the bat couldn't be reached easily by little kids, local cats, or other dangers while it recovered from being frightened and disoriented by all the noise and light.
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