Monday, 25 August 2008
Pet Snails
By Peter Tibbles
My sister and I didn't have any pets when we were kids.
We grew up in a small country town in western Victoria (Australia). We weren't allowed pets because apparently our mother had a dog when she met our father and when it eventually died, she was so distraught that dad said that there'd be no more pets.
Based purely on this, he may seem like a tyrant, but he wasn't. He was a most thoughtful, kind, loving father. Just no pets.
Eventually, my sister Pam and I starting thinking, "No cats, no dogs, no goldfish, no wombats". What can we sneak in that dad won't notice?
We looked around for something and eventually thought snails. Well, they were around, at least in winter when it rained (which admittedly, where we lived, wasn't very often). So, we started keeping them as pets. We built a little shelter for them to live in, fed them lettuces from dad's garden. He wondered, now and then, what became of a particular fine lettuce he was looking after that happened to be snail fodder that day.
Just keeping snails became boring rather quickly so we wondered what else could we do with them. There aren't too many tricks that you can teach a snail. The answer was obvious to us, but perhaps not to you, dear reader.
The one vice, and it wasn't very vice-like, our father had was that he like to bet on the horses. Never very much. Far less than others would spend on cigarettes (which, I'm glad to say, dad eschewed. Unusual for the nineteen-fifties).
Thus, the snail races were born. Pam painted their shells in various colors and designs. She also painted numbers on them and they'd be away. Okay, away is a rather grandiose term for what they actually did. These races took rather a long time, as you may imagine, but we were young and the weekends were long and we had nothing else to do.
The snails weren't particularly good at keeping in the lanes we had marked out for them. Some eventually got to the other end where a succulent lettuce was waiting for the winner.
In retrospect, we should have invited the neighborhood kids in to participate as well. We could have set up a betting ring and made a fortune as bookies (or what passes for a fortune at seven and twelve years old). We had the expertise gleaned from years of listening to horse races on the radio. But it was just the two of us.
I don't know where dad was when these races were on but he didn't ever notice them. Neither did mum (officially, but we all know about mothers).
I was the budding scientist of the family (and the younger sibling, Pam, was the artist) and one of my lessons was that snails probably breathe through their shells as every snail turned up its snaily toes within a day of having its shell painted.
Keeping pet snails didn't last longer than that single racing season, but when I occasionally have them in my local French restaurant, I'm disappointed not to have painted shells.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. Instructions are here.]
Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post
Comments
You mean you would actually EAT smails now after having them as pets as a child? That's just wrong.
Such a fun story. Thanks for the great start to my week.
Posted by: Granny Annie on Aug 25, 2008 8:10:00 AM
Peter,
I loved your story. I have often heard of the "Run for The Roses" but never heard of "The Run for The Lettuce".
Fun story.. Maybe the snails would have stayed on course better if you had had jockeys!
Posted by: Nancy on Aug 25, 2008 9:32:58 AM
I never knew that snails breathe through their shells! Live and learn. I sure do like to eat them!
Posted by: kenju on Aug 25, 2008 9:37:03 AM
This little story cheered me up, especially the description of the actual race, which I found pretty funny.
It's a shame you didn't expand the race; they make a big deal out of frog races.
An enjoyable read.
Celia Jones
PS: I didn't know snails breathed through their shell either.
Posted by: Celia Jones on Aug 26, 2008 3:59:06 AM
Well, I don't really know if they breathe through their shells. It's just that they all died within a day or so after being painted. Perhaps some biologist could answer for us. My scientific bent went in the way of physics and maths.
Posted by: Peter Tibbles on Aug 26, 2008 6:48:27 AM
During my lengthy and solitary holidays in Normandy, I too kept snails as pets since my parents didn't want any pets at home. Normandy being a very rainy area, there was no shortage of snails.
It certainly didn't keep me from having them when my mother cooked them in "beurre d'escargot" a wonderful if fatty mixture of butter, parsley and garlic.
I don't think that they were the same snails in my child's head. Or else I was too much of a gourmet (or plain greedy) to think of it
Posted by: Claude on Aug 27, 2008 6:38:47 AM
Fond memories dear bro!
Now Im reading "Margot L'Escargot" to my three year old grandson who hunts down snails in the garden. He excitedly yells "smoosh 'scargot, not Margot"..... as we stomp on empty shells and pass over those slithering along like Margot on her adventures.
Posted by: PAM on Sep 4, 2008 7:03:48 PM
