Brooke here.  The general consensus is that I have killed a black widow with my mighty shoulder.

I was filling in the last two stairs with gravel, and I happened to look down at the bag I had just moved from Point A to Point B.  It was… yes.  That.

I called Brown and left a very calm, very straightforward message that I had found what I thought to be a black widow and that he should call me back as soon as possible.  Then I went inside and read up on what black widow bites feel like while poking the lump that felt exactly like a mosquito bite on my upper arm and telling myself that I’d know for sure what this lump was in 40 minutes (don’t call Allison for a ride to the hospital just yet… don’t call Allison for a ride to the hospital just yet…) … 30 minutes (still nothing…)… 20 minutes … (probably in the clear)… 10 minutes (almost there!) … aaaand time!   I’ve never been so happy to have a mosquito bite in my life.

I’m not brave or stupid or nuthin’, but all black widow bites have two tiny red marks in the center and this looked and felt like a run-of-the-mill mosquito bite, so I gave it the benefit of the doubt and kept a hand on the phone.  And I’m also no expert in spiders so maybe it’s one of those spiders whose sole purpose on earth is to scare the dickens out of decent spider-fearin’ folk and to tell stories to other spiders over drinks.

P.S. The bat is gone, and a small bat house had been purchased.  We’ll make a few larger ones this winter when we’ve got free time for crafty-projects.