Slugs on Honesty |
When we first started trying to grow vegetables in our clay
field nothing ever seemed to
germinate. A single evening springtime
walk revealed seedlings germinating like mad, but like baby turtles on a beach,
they were being snaffled equally quickly by an army of slimy predators before
they could make it to the relative safety of the morning. The ground, the hedges, the walls were a heaving mass of slugs – big orange
ones, small brown ones, stripy ones and black ones, revolting white ones which
exude a milky gunk when prodded and even a magnificent leopard slug or two.
I have pretensions of growing organically, flea beetles
aside, and given the vast amount of wildlife around which should, but
apparently isn’t, eating my slug and snail population, this is a sound
strategy. Slug pellets are therefore
out.
I contemplated using a biological control, but given that
that all my googling of nematodes mentioned six weeks of moist weather and we
were already cooking in thirty degree heat in April, that looked like a big fat
no-no, too. And way beyond what we could
afford – this is frugal pest control, after all.
So hand picking it was going to have to be. And has been for the last few years.
The veg garden is relatively small, comprising 11 slightly
raised beds each 6m long by 1.5m wide, annoyingly just too wide for me to reach
into the middle without the risk of a face plant. The beds are arranged 7 across and four more
at right angles below these. Half metre
wide paths run between the beds (just too narrow too safely wheel a barrow
along - yes, it was all planned) and metre wide paths run around the perimeter.
I can manage about an hour of bending double searching with
a head torch, the Salty Slug Pot of Death in one hand and a rubber glove on the
other for picking, before my back screams enough. Naturally, warm wet nights are the best – or
worst – and on those conditions I can expect to get three to four hundred in a
night. Every night. From late March through into July. The record is over six hundred. That is a phenomenal number of slugs from a
small space. Where do they keep coming
from, year after year?
Grass path cut yesterday and edged today |
My paths are also part of the strategy. They are grass, Well, ok, some grass but also the blessed
creeping buttercup, clovers, wild mint and peas, daisies and occasionally the
odd teasel, highly inconvenient in the middle of path but worth leaving for the
goldfinches. As a biennial plant, It’ll
only be in the way for two years. The
paths, with the exception of the teasels, get cut about once a week or so and
the clippings left behind. The theory is
that wilting vegetation is more attractive to the slimy gastropods so they
feast on that rather than my lettuces and beans. Not sure how successful this method is as I haven’t
set up a control uncut path next to
sacrificial seedlings. But certainly I
find most slugs on the paths or amongst the clippings.
And of course I try to encourage other wildlife. Hedgehogs are inhabitants of the garden; we
have woodland on one side and thick hedges on a further two, so there is plenty
of cover for them. Toads abound – there
is usually one sitting in the cat’s water bowl of an evening. Presumably having a spruce up before heading
out to dinner.
Glow worms are the real project. Yes, I know they are tiny and probably have a
small impact on the slug and snail population, but once you’ve watched a little
fellow the length of your thumbnail
attacking and paralysing one of those big giant orange horrors then you have to
respect them. The first summer we saw no
glow worms. The second spring there was
a single glowing female in the grass beside the drive, and another in the
autumn. Now I will find three or four
larvae - and they are the killers – almost
every time I turn over the soil in a veg bed.
And there are many, many more in the compost bins. All in all a success story. Any day now we should see some glowing!
Glow worm in the sweet pea pot |
One day, I might be able to leave slug hunting to the
natural predators. But I doubt it.
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