Simon Lock and his personal battle with slugs.
After the winter monsoons, gardens everywhere are bursting into life. Brown patches of sludge have transformed into vibrant carpets of green. Suddenly the view from the kitchen window is a considerably better one. But among these fresh shoots of optimism lives a creature hell bent on wrecking your plans, leaving nothing in their wake but a shimmering trail of destruction.
The slug is the bane of many a gardener, but for me the battle is a personal one. Slugs love damp, shady spots from which they can orchestrate their midnight maneuvers. Owning one walled, north facing garden, not much bigger than a pair of snooker tables, I have damp, shady spots aplenty. This is an occupational hazard for the micro gardener as small plots are often crowded so present plenty of opportunity for these pests to skulk in the shadows.
The arsenal at your disposal in this bitter turf war is large, varied and in my case at least, often completely ineffective. I’ve unleashed egg shells, coffee granules, quartered oranges and other assorted breakfast leftovers but to no avail. I’ve even spent nights crouched in the moonlight removing and flinging them over the wall into next door – who is not a gardener, I hasten to add. There seemed to be no stopping the onslaught; until now.
Burying an empty container at soil level amongst your greens and pouring a pint or so of beer attracts slugs like a magnet. These beer traps send the slug to an inebriated, watery grave. It’s not humane, but on a positive note the slug’s thirst for a drink makes this author’s own borderline alcoholism pale into insignificance. So if you can bare sharing perfectly good ale with such a mortal enemy, your crops will thank you.
Simon Lock