My least favorite garden pest of all time
has to be the slug. There is
nothing worse than reaching down to pull a weed and grabbing the body of a
slimy, sticky, and slippery slug.
Before taking off to sea, the summer
challenge was the eradication of the slug. In the past I have used slug bait to kill them. Looking for an equally lethal, but more
environmentally friendly way to get the job done, I switched to bowls of
beer. At night the grayish gastropods
would slither into the beer and drown.
A good sprinkle of salt would also take care of them, one at a
time.
Who would have predicted that this summer I
would accompany grandson, Sam, age six, on a great slug hunt around the
neighborhood. The purpose of this
search, which eventually covered two states, wasn’t for the elimination of the
species.
Quite the opposite, Sam wanted one for a
pet. For some reason Sam loves
slugs. He noticed one crossing the
parking lot of a local store and wanted to take it home. His mother, dear girl,
told Sam that Mom Mom knew how to find slugs and would help him on his
quest. Thank you daughter. The
hunt was on.
First Sam and I identified the most
prominent local slug. The Leopard Slug is an invasive species that was first
discovered in dirt floor cellars of Philadelphia in 1867. It only took a few years before it
turned up in Rhode Island and New York.
By 1896 the slimy beast had also made its home in California. It can now be found in more than half
of the United States.
To hunt a slug, we learned about our
prey. The Internet and online
images made it easy identify and learn about where we might find Sam’s future
pet.
We
learned from the Institute for Invasive Species that Leopard Slugs probably
came to the United States on ships hidden in foliage and potted plants. The stowaways originally arrived from
Western and Southern Europe as well as North Africa.
Slugs
grow to four inches. They are usually grayish with black spots or bands. Often
they are wrinkly, and of course, slimy. The garden variety Leopard Slug has four
tentacles
on its head, two long ones and two short ones. These gastropods live in fields,
woods, and gardens. They prefer damp, shady places. You can find them under
rocks, logs, and leaves. Slugs are mostly nocturnal,
but sometimes come out on rainy days.
A sure sign that one has been moving through the garden is the slivery
trail left behind.
Leopard
Slugs are voracious. They eat
rotting plants, leaves, flowers, and fruits of plants. Mushrooms,
dead animals, and even fellow slugs are part of their diet. Creatures that enjoy slug snacks
include toads, turtles, beetles, birds, flies and even humans. For the brave, slugs can be a
delicacy. Eating the creatures raw
or undercooked can infect humans with a meningitis causing nematode. Oh yuk!
The
slug can live for up to three years.
They are hermaphroditic, meaning they can be either male or female. Even so, two slugs are required for
mating. They inch their way to an
overhanging wall or branch and create a slime thread. They hang and twist around each other, doing their slug
thing. After mating the Leopard
Slug will lay up to 200 large clear eggs.
Newly hatched slugs are tiny and white. Stripes appear after about a week.
On a
beautiful summer Saturday, Sam and I, along with his sister Lexi and brother
Max began the search. Our tools
included an old spoon and a plastic container with lid. We lifted bricks, rocks and even
garbage cans, but found no trace of a slug in Mom Mom’s yard. Silently, I’m thinking, yeah!
Soon
we head to a wooded area at the back of a nearby housing development. Sam lifts rotted branches and we kick
leaves. No slugs! Yeah! A neighbor is finishing yard work. We stop and ask her if she had come
across any slugs. “Ewwwwwwwww!”
she says as she curls her lip and looks horrified. “It’s going to be my pet,” Sam explains. After a couple of hours it’s time for
the grandchildren to go home. We change tactics. “Sam, I know there will be slugs near Grandpa Sparks’
garden,” I say with a feigned enthusiasm.
A
week later we set a slug trap at the back of the Sharptown garden. We put down a small plastic sheet
and weigh it down with rocks. The
plan was to come back in two days and find Sam’s pet.
With
container in hand, Sam lifts the sheet.
No slugs. He slumps and
looks so sad. Once again the elusive slug has not appeared. Mentally, I do a happy
dance. As we leave the garden, I
lift an old diving board that Dad uses to keep plastic containers off the
ground along the side of the pool.
“A
slug, a slug,” Sam yells. Mom Mom
we found one. Actually we
found two. With a piece of plastic
strapping I scoop two small slugs into the container along with a bit of soil
and some leaves. Sam grins. Max now wants a slug pet
too.
As I
finish this column there are two slugs in a plastic container with some
blackberries for sustenance. I
convinced Sam that they must sleep outside. Tomorrow begins with hunt number two. A slug hunt for Max is in the
works. Sometimes I’m amazed
at the things that I do for the grandchildren. Who would have thunk it? Perhaps Sam will one day become a
biologist? Right now he is the
proud owner of pet slugs.
