Ahh my first blog via my iPhone. This is some teeny tiny writing. Oh well.
I’m at my sisters house watching her bratlettes at the moment. Good fun for all. I just spent like thirty minutes trying to get my filmy iPhone cover on perfectly because it was bubbly. I failed miserably. Perhaps I shall just give in and buy a new one and have the pros put it on. Good idea.
Anyway. A few days ago I was making a trip to my trusty compost when I opened the lid and saw a big pile of clear, round eggs. They looked like something that had come out of a frog but that wasn’t possible. So then I thought salamander. I posted the photo on Facebook and I got many responses. Turns out completely anti climactic. They’re slug eggs.
But you see, by this time I had grown some maternal feelings towards these budding new lives. I had carefully plucked them from my compost so I wouldn’t hurt them as I added more food scraps. I had high hopes of these turning into some super duper cool.
Okay so I got stuck with slugs. But I cannot help but keep them and hatch them into little bity squishy thingies.
As I googled about accomplishing such a thing, I learned that many people have per slugs. One woman went as far as to create a spa like experience for her slug friend. She even let him have small amounts of beer at night so he could get his buzz on.
K this seems pretty cool!! Hellooooo learning experience for the children!
Can u tell that I grew up in small towns where playing with the wildlife was all we had to do? Yup I remember catching bees with little cream cups and putting them in a big glass mayo jar when I was four. Then there were the countless afternoons spent behind my grandparents house where my brother and I would bring home buckets of snakes and lizards. Yes we’d find a cool spiders web and feed it any bug we could get our hands on. We helped a few spiders get rather large.
So, as you can now understand, this sorta thing gets me excited. Kinda like that treefrog I found in my yard a few weeks back. My instincts are still the same. Capture, play, find jar, make habitat, poke holes in lid, new pet.
Silas named him spitzie and Ikey took him to show and tell and then we set him free. Even though I had grown very fond of the little feller. He’s happier in the wild. I hope a cat didn’t get him.
So now I have these eggs which I peek at every morning to see how they have grown. I show my kids and they try to poke them and I say “stop it” and then they go on eating their breakfast.
I guess we all know this is really just for me.