I was taking a stroll along a rural path recently, when I heard a tiny voice call out a warning to me…
“Please don’t tread on me.”
I was taking a stroll along a rural path recently, when I heard a tiny voice call out a warning to me…
“Please don’t tread on me.”
Not a lover of slugs,but this picture makes him look rather cute.
He does, doesn’t he. And I very nearly trod on him too.
Over 20 years ago, when we lived back in New York, we had set up a plank bridge type thing to get from our yard down to the woods in our back lot. Coming back from a walk with Tucker and Trixie one day, there was a big slug on the plank. We humans were careful to avoid it but Tucker just had to stop right there and pee on it. It was plain to everyone that the poor slug did not enjoy that experience at all.
I think my mother thought slugs were the Devil’s work. As a child she had me wandering the garden, searching them out and sprinkling salt on them. The joys of country life!