As long as the snail isn’t in my garden, I tend to leave them alone.
As long as they continue to stay attached to the plastic garden pots rather than the garden, I’ll let them go.
The markings, the striations of the shell. The pattern of their feet, or whatever that part of the body that allows them to move. And they move quicker than I expect.
I had placed this snail on a piece of white cardboard in a wheelbarrow, thinking that it
would be a better background for a photo. I’ve never seen a coiled up rattle snake, but that’s what I thought of as I looked at the coils.
My inquisitive nature caused me to turn it over. Then I start thinking about how it looks like an octopus. Octopi.
I came across an empty shell with a large hole in it. Guess this snail either couldn’t fix it or didn’t have a chance to fix it. I put it next to the snail to see what it would think not that snails have thoughts. Something tells them to do things to help them survive.
After taking pictures of the snail, I turned my attention to the dogs. Abby was trying to haul away a piece of treated wood, even though I had thrown her a stick. By the time I returned from a different kind of photo shoot, the snail had moved off of the cardboard and onto a plastic pot. I wonder if it’s still there or if it has figured out how to get out of the wheelbarrow.