11th July 2024
The Slug and Leper
Like many gardeners this year, I have found my garden overrun by copious numbers of slugs – and curiously it is slugs rather than snails. In previous years I have sought to protect vulnerable plants such as seedlings and strawberries with coffee grounds, egg shells, and mussel shells etc – all to no avail.
Last year’s dry spring meant I had a good crop of strawberries and I was keen to enjoy these home grown fruits again this year. So I gritted my teeth – or maybe I girded my loins – but each day I went out with two bowls. Into the first I put ripe strawberries and into the second slugs. (I used one hand for strawberries and the other for the slugs). The strawberries I took to the kitchen; the slugs I tipped out into the compost heap in the front garden.
Slugs are not actually slimy. Nor are they squishy. Rather they are solid and muscular and on the underside look a bit like the sole of a foot. After picking up the first few, I have come to see them in a different light. They are fellow creatures who share my love of strawberries. When I see them gliding across the path, I admire the graceful ease with which they move. When I watch their delicate feelers probing the air, I admire their cautious curiosity. When I observe their colour, I notice the different shades of brown and black and the patterns – striations the length of their body, or in the case of leopard slugs, contrasting patches. I have shared this delight with my husband, who too now looks at slugs with interest.
It is interesting – maybe surprising – that when we get to know that which we previously despised or from which we recoiled, that our feelings change to a more friendly, loving disposition. This reminds me of the story of St Francis who as a young man was revolted by the sight of lepers. Yet one day inspired by Christ’s love, he kissed and embraced a leper, and found in him a brother.
The Green Tau 