I saw some sweet slug love tonight, and it was glorious.
It might have been some sort of twisted love triangle. Or possibly a failed three-way. I'm not exactly sure.
I noticed this throbbing, slimy mass of camouflage dangling on the back of my house, connected to the siding by a string of...uhm...gross...mucus...stuff.
Suddenly my peaceful summer BBQ on the back porch had been interrupted by two slugs hanging upside down knockin' boots. I was instantly enthralled. The females were instantly disgusted. That blue thing hanging there, I would later find out, is their intertwined genitalia. How hot is that?
But this was no ordinary mating ritual, for there was a third wheel lingering just out of frame, writhing in the dirt, covered in ooze and various earthly debris - perhaps because of the heartache and anguish that comes with being dumped, or perhaps because that's what slugs do.
At first I thought that the two hanging from the string of mucus had just given birth and had dropped the third down onto the ground. Later, through the power of the internet, I realized that they had only just begun the process of parenthood, and the fertilized egg deposit step was still a ways off.
See, the thing is, slugs are
hermaphrodites, meaning they have both male and female reproductive organs. So somehow, I believe, while attempting to attract a mate, one of the two unisex slugs found a second suitor, and denied it the bout of sexual exploration it craved, leaving him to crawl around in the muck. Story of my life right there.
Eventually the two untangled, pulled their junk back into their body cavities, and helped each other detatch from the mucus string. Then one of them threw up deuces and ran off, presumably NOT to the kitchen to make the other an omlet. The other, feeling used and unloved, was left to recuperate and clean up the mess - by eating it. Again, the story of my life.
So, what did I learn tonight? Slugs are disgusting. And freaky. And I would advise people who become entrapped in slug drama to turn down the grill so their burgers don't burn. Another lesson mother nature couldn't have taught me any other way. C'est la vie.
I saw some sweet slug love tonight, and it was glorious.
Eventually the two untangled, pulled their junk back into their body cavities, and helped each other detatch from the mucus string. Then one of them threw up deuces and ran off, presumably NOT to the kitchen to make the other an omlet. The other, feeling used and unloved, was left to recuperate and clean up the mess - by eating it. Again, the story of my life.
