Today, I may have picked slightly more slugs than snails. And, in the process of acquainting myself with the ways of the slug, I discovered a very good reason to perform early-morning gastropod removal as a solo activity:
The tall grass slug trebuchet.
Seriously, if either of the sprogs had been on the receiving end of the (totally accidental) launch, I think the screaming might still be in progress.
Anyway, the slugs seems to like stretching themselves to their full length, helping them look like dew on stems and narrow plant leaves. But when you try to pick them, they rapidly change shape to something more globular. If they do this quickly enough, it seems to help them roll earthward and escape. Crafty little plant munchers.
I don't know if it was all the slugs, or if it was because the temperature this morning was slightly warmer than yesterday morning (as measured by the fact that I could feel all my fingertips when I was done picking), but I had a higher gastropod count today. Still, not as bad as over the weekend.
Today's take: 306 snails and slugs (in 35 minutes).
We used to do this in our garden. Seattle is the slug capital of the world. My youngest daughter keeps chickens. When allowed to free range in the back yard regularly our slug problem went away, mysteriously. Now we have a hawk eating our chickens, go figure.
This time of year the lawn and garden areas of retailers fill with mountains of boxes of "Slug Death."
Lazarus says "Hi" on the anniversary of his coming out.
He wishes not to be equated with the slugs, or even the snails.
There it is, your compelling reason to join the chicken-owning set.
TO TRY IS TO WIN