Confessions of a killer.
I have a confession to make. I am a mass murderer – a cold-blooded killer.
It must have been the rain over Anzac weekend that took my reason… 150 snails who had come out to enjoy the cool wet grass met a sad, sudden, and violent death.
Who even knew they were in residence; they must have hitched a ride on a purchase…. as there have been no gastropods showing their towering eyebrows.
Snails – 150 big fat snails. I went mad. I cannot use bait because I love my dogs.
Well, they met their doom from the sole of my boots…. I must have looked like a dancing tarantella or someone doing a Scottish fling.
I thought, as I stood exhausted, with the squished bodies under my boots, I could have collected them for Dick the Duck who lives next door but then figured even he of the melodious baritone quack could not eat so many.
So, I posted my dilemma onto my Facebook page and received several suggestions.
Dousing them with salt seemed a most unhappy end and I am not so cruel as to circle the plants with coffee grounds (which apparently works as they hate them and will stay away.)
We do drink copious amounts of coffee but with an acre of garden I would need a lot of grounds.
The only option it seems to be for me, is to keep an eye out and hurl any errant arrivals over the fence to the delight of the aforementioned Dick the Duck, and if there’s another onslaught, I wonder if the new council garden waste bin system counts snail corpses as garden waste, and if not, the Blundstone boots will have to do their duty.
So, there you have it, if you are friends with me on Facebook, you are friends with a killer…. if you want to unfriend me, I will understand.
