Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly

[venta]

I went out for my evening chat with the tomatoes, and what do you think I found ?

This chap:



(A bit blurry because it was taken in the dark with a phone.)

He was just sitting there, bold as brunch, visibly munching away at my tomatoes. I'm aware snails are gastropods, so their heads moving doesn't really indicate much, but he looked like he was munching. And he didn't even have the grace to hide in his shell when I shone a torch on him and yelled at him.

He'd munched a good, big hole in the tomato; I thus didn't really want it even though it looked nice and ripe. I could have thrown him out of the greenhouse, but it seemed a bit mean. I settled for removing the tomato, with him in situ, and putting them reasonably gently on the garden path. And I put his mate who was hurrying (for a snail) to join the party out there too. Pulling a snail off a plastic grow-bag is a faintly disconcerting sensation; you have to slide it a long until you reach an edge.

I think I meant "bold as brass" there. Dunno why it came out as brunch. I kind of like it though

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I am sentimental to the point of bizarre when it comes to most forms of wildlife. All this goes totally out of the window when it comes to common or garden molluscs. I drown them in hot soapy water, cut them in half, tread on them ... all sorts of things.

Were you aware that they have a strong homing instinct? Snails that have been dumped three miles away have been known to return to their original (lettuce) patch. That one will be back on your tomatoes - soon as look at you!

Actually, the reason I'm writing, believe it or not, is to say that I've done a bit more development of my illustration, the one featuring your good self. It's on public display at Puflet Palace.

Lots of love,

Cathy xxx