Monday, June 19, 2006
How I nearly died
Nobody likes a gastropod. Its true. But life is particularly hard when you are terrified of them. Its like they sense fear and they attack. I am constantly being ambushed and lunged at by snail/lugs. Fleet footedness is perhaps the only thing that has saved me time and again. There may come a day I am not so lucky.
By gastro-tack is not a nice way to die if my garden is any indication (Greek gaster: stomach, poda: feet). It is to be sawed down by a digesting stomachfoot that writhes like a living dogturd with a razorsharp toothed ribbon called a radula... the tiny chainsaw tongue of death.
Saturday, the fatal mistake of accidental eye contact with one of these monsters... I knew I was done for. In the above photo you can clearly see the menace, the bloodthirst. I settled back on my heels, set up my camera, made peace and waited for the end.
In the meantime I was able to snap a rare picture of this leaping snail in mid-attack. Clark was never sure to believe me, though never mocked my gaspy screams (bless him). Now he knows, perhaps he has finally learned from me. Never show fear.
After safely putting away my equipment and checking my bootlaces so to not trip to my death I barely escaped with my life.
I don't know why I haven't moved out of the moisty Northwest entirely.
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