Ever seen a banana slug? They’re like seven inches long and BRIGHT yellow. Seriously. They’re like the rampaging Godzilla of the garden slug clan, bane of gardens everywhere, loathed by Northern CA gardeners.
Don’t believe me?
The last time I went home to visit my hometown, the place where I grew up and the place I couldn’t wait to move away from but now wish I’d never left (that’d be Humboldt County, CA) I found a little boombox up in the upstairs bathroom, with a Mozart CD in it and a empty wineglass with the wine residue and a little saucer of pellets and the gun, laying across the counter. Pellet gun, there kids. Pump action. It’s not like I went upstairs and found a sawed off 12 gauge or anything, so don’t get your knickers in a wad. Not like we’re talking hot NRA slug on slug action here. The window looks out over the backyard, porch and where the trashcans live next to the back fence.
After a bit of gentle coaxing, the truth came out. Dad had been having a little wine and relaxing one night, and, um, shooting slugs.
7 pumps for slugs on the back fence, to be precise. He says it’s spectacular.
Faster than a shaker of salt, anyway.
My dad is a little strange sometimes, but he’s mine and I love him. I’m sure he feels the same way about me, especially the part about “a little strange sometimes”.
Hi, Dad! Hey you’re famous now! I’ve blogged about you! It could lead to groupies.
I don’t know why there are slugs in the garden, because my dad has it covered with black plastic and tan bark. I don’t know why the slugs are still out there lurking. But they are. Go figure. I guess if you were a slimy yellow invertebrate with a nervous system the size of a mung bean, you’d be a bit slow on the uptake too.