I despise creepy, crawly, slimy things that lie about in their own goo which is why I really hate slugs. Well… that and the fact those greasy little lumps of flesh can consume forty times their weight in food overnight. This year they’re well on their way to turning our backyard paradise into a wasteland.
We’ve had so much rain that those slippery suckers have become amazingly audacious; they aren’t even trying to hide anymore. (See exhibit A.) They ate all my basil, put holes in my hostas, chewed my begonias and have started chowing down on my parsley.
Every morning and evening I go on slug patrol. I pick the ooey-gooey creatures off the plants, take them across the road and pitch them as far down the hill as I can get them. As you can imagine, this is time consuming and very annoying.
I’ve tried every non-violent way humanly possible to rid the yard of those pests, but my slugs are extremely talented and have even managed to find their way around copper flashing. I can’t bring myself to squish them, or use salt or pesticides on them because that just seems cruel.
However, out of sheer desperation, I may soon consider offering them beer if they’re determined to keep up their sluggish tomfoolery. I’ve given this quite a bit of thought, if I were a slug, that’s the way I’d want to go…drunk as a pirate on my way to Davey Jone’s locker. Hey, it’s preferable to being eaten by a snake.