My kosher salt slug barrier was extremely effective, but when I told my mother and then Gigi how great this was working, they looked at me . . . well, horrified isn’t quite the right word. Let’s say deeply concerned. They each urged me not to put any more on and my mother suggested several times, I could still scrape the salt off.
Gigi suggested the beer trick, but then commented that the only time she had tried this, my uncle came by and drank the cups she had set out. Now that I think of it, she didn’t mention how old he was. Two? Twelve? Forty? Was this last week, in fact?
So yesterday morning, I scraped away at the dirt removing destruction and carnage as best I could. I have been out each night in my jammies pointing my flashlight and madly salting away. The first couple deaths were hard, but I have found each night, it gets a little easier. Last night I plunged baby slugs to their salty death.
Oh, the horror! I have become a baby slug killer. They are just doing what the were created to do . . . which is to eat my beautiful and somewhat expensive annuals.
Slimy (expletive deleted here)!