Sluggish Slug

I call her Lush.  Much prettier than using a slug picture first!

It was a performance worthy of a snake-charmer's cobra.  In slow motion the slug sloped its neck from side to side, contorting its length into a writhing "s" shape. The flanges flanking its muscular body tensed wing-like in an effort to add just another centimetre to its scope of vision. The periscoped eye stalks zig-zagged back and forth, Monty Python-like, as it strained to find a viable option out of the mess it found itself in.

From its vantage point on top of the railroad tie that edges a garden bed, the slug eased its way down the wood, sliming a path with precious moisture it hoped to replace in short order. It must seek a damp destination before it ran out of mucus.

My impartiality was short-lived. I realized the poor thing really was in a life or death struggle. I eased the slug down to the cool grass in the shade of the wood. Some nature photographer I am turning out to be!

I am reminded of another recent weak moment. Two slugs were writhing in agony as they dried on the porch cement, trapped when the runoff from planter-watering evaporated. I felt guilty, having unintentionally lured them out of their usual routine.  I watered them down and moved them to a shady spot, where I kept a watering vigil until they were recovered.

Their real purpose in life is to aggravate me by chewing on the best of my flowers.  The routine is that they choose the most perfect blooms to destroy and I catch them to return them to the compost pile, which they escape, and we repeat the cycle.

Nevertheless, this torture demanded a truce. We can get back to the cat and mouse game later.

Looking positively grumpy at this point.

sticky slime is running out.

Getting ready to stretch again.