Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Death doesn't become her

On the weekend I realised that my life is decidedly less glamorous than it used to be when my hobby was being a freelance features and beauty writer for Vogue Australia.  I realised this while standing in my herb garden with sprigs of french tarragon in one hand and a slug in the other.  I was perturbed about the fate of the slug, indeed I had occupied a good deal of my mental energy for the morning pondering humane slug eradication.

To date my slug strategy has been one beer trap nestled amongst the sage. I was comfortable with the thought that the slugs would exit the world in a beer haze. Surely not a bad way to go?  Then I read something about slugs laying eggs and realised that multiplying tribes of slugs may be happily munching their way through my precious herbs. As the beer in the traps evaporates quite fast and I'm not keen to donate more of my weekly alcohol budget to non-sentient beings, and as my low-intervention philosophy means that I'm also not keen on poison pellets, I decided that my new plan was to assiduously remove each slug as I came across it.

I was quite happy with this plan until I stood slug in gloved hand and realised that I wasn't sure what should happen next. I am squeamish so squashing the slugs is out of the question. I decided that perhaps drowning them the best option so cut the top of a plastic bottle, filled it with water and dropped the slugs in.  Dear reader, now imagine a bottle filled with slugs jostling to crawl up the sides out of the water before being knocked back down with a piece of bark. Dear reader, now imagine a bottle filled with fermenting slugs that I know I'm going to have to dispose of this weekend.

My neighbour Matt not very helpfully suggested throwing salt on the slugs. This sounds cruel to me. He then even more unhelpfully suggested that perhaps I could treat the slugs like lobsters by freezing them to death in my freezer. This is definitely not an option.  My friend Hayden unhelpfully suggested driving them down the road and freeing them on someone else's land. He somewhat more helpfully suggested building a platform on top of a pole and leaving the slugs there for the Kookaburras to eat. I quite like this option as it means that the slugs are fulfilling their role in a natural cycle.  But of course, it means another slew of tasks for my to-do list including erecting platforms and figuring out how to stop the slugs from making a bid for freedom over the side. You would be surprised at how fast they can move.

If you have any better ideas let me know. 

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