It was a misty, moisty morning, a perfect day for slugs (if not for banana fish). I walked the labyrinth several times, to pick them off the greens. Each time I gathered a handful, which the chickens got to enjoy right away:
I like the way the rooster stands aside and lets his hens have first bite. He always does this–such a gentleman.
And happily, my computer is repaired!
His hens? He has more than one?
He has a harem of seven, five of whom seem always around him, two who are a bit more standoffish. I will say that when he stands back to let them eat, he sometimes ambushes one by jumping on top and having his way with her while she is focused on the food, so perhaps he is not as much a gentleman as he appears.
When I lived on Potrero Hill, my front yard, one spring, was alive with snails. I worked from the top down to the gate, relentlessly tossing escargot out onto De Haro Street to be crunched under the wheels of passing cars. My teenage niece ran before me with a mayonnaise jar trying to save as many as she could from my fury. She took a full jar of snails back to Mendocino. Later she told me she had written a paper for a science class on the uses of snail/slug slime. Very good adhesive, she said.
I can totally picture that! The fury, the frantic child… I think as adhesive it might be, well, a bit slimy!