I woke up to this horoscope today:
“You may be feeling like a snail who is emerging from her shell, Jenn. When no one is looking, you slowly, cautiously stick your head out and put up your antenna to take a reading on the outside world. When you see a creature similar to yourself, you feel comfortable and come out of your shell a little more. Be careful of letting your defenses down too much, however, because a big hungry chicken is coming along who is looking for his dinner.”
Really? Hungry chickens? So now of course I have this visual picture in my mind of tall, fuzzy chickens chasing me down the street while I run screaming as fast as I can, flailing my arms about in full on panic mode.
Stupid horoscope. If I have nightmares tonight about life sized beaks pecking me to death I’m going to be really pissed.
Yeah I know cool photo right? Go ahead, buy a copy from my Mom.
So anyway, of course I had to look up the relationship between chickens and snails. (No, I’m not avoiding doing work today, why would you even ask that question. How silly, I’m not a procrastinator and I’m not nervous at all about completing the two finishes I’ve never done. Silly, silly, silly.)
You know what I found out? Chickens absolutely do eat snails! Shocking! I was thrilled to stumble across this incredibly useful bit of information! I mean, that is if you want to trust the internet. I can’t say I’ve ever watched a chicken eat a snail before but it doesn’t surprise me that they would want to take part in consuming such a “delicacy”.
In France, or French restaurants, that is.
I somehow don’t think Simon Enticknap is going to be seeking out escargot anytime soon considering his run in with these slimy little creatures a couple years ago. Right there with you Simon, right there with you.
But even though I won’t eat them, snails are definitely fascinating little creatures to watch. If you have about 16 hours to kill its amazing just how fast they really move. We used to get loads of them outside our basement apartment door when we lived in New York because of the moisture level. Lots of slugs too.
Coming home in the dark and walking down the side path was like navigating a mine field of squishy and crunchy little bits. It was rare we got one of them but I always felt really bad when I heard or felt the demise of one of these slow moving creatures underfoot. I would have loved if they died from something natural instead of my size seven hiking boot. Maybe we should have brought home a chicken.