Snail Watching

As you may recall, our fish tank has been recently invaded by an army of snails. We removed the 5 or 6 snails and thought we'd handled the problem. Nuh-uh. They're back. In force. And we think this time they're mad.

This morning I counted 15 itsy-bitsy snails crawling over rocks and logs and clinging to the glass walls of the tank. I've abandoned my guilt over killing them. Now they make my skin crawl. We've been reading up on how to handle our snail problem. Last resort is to empty the tank and start anew. This may cause trauma to our fish so we'd prefer to avoid that. Right now we're opting for a two-pronged approach.

Method #1 is to put a piece of lettuce in a small cup. The snails are attracted to the lettuce and sit on it and munch, allowing us to pick the leaf up in the morning and carry snails out of the tank.

Method #2 involves us reaching into the tank and squishing any snail on sight.

After dinner this evening, Blair and I enjoyed a little snail watching. It's harder than you think. The snails are about the size of a quarter of a grain of rice. You can stare into the tank and see none. Only when you look closely do you notice they're covering a rock, or three are inching up a wall.

My job is to spot them and Blair's job is to squish. As I was moving around the outside of the tank, I commented to Blair that my personality is well-suited to this type of work.

"Yeah. Kill 'em!" he said in his high Dena-imitating voice.

"No," I said. "What I mean is--hold on, there's a snail. Under the rock. Smash it.--What I mean is the seek and find suits me. It's a challenge."

We had agreed to watch a movie after dinner but, after washing our hands, discovered neither of us felt much like sitting in front of the TV.

"Snail killing is kind of a mood killer," I remarked.

"I don't know about that," said Blair. "I'm feeling pretty virile after smooshing all those snails."

That's a quote. I do so love that man of mine. Happy Friday the 13th!

Invasion of the Snails

About a month ago we noticed a tiny snail in our fish tank. We guessed he'd arrived unnoticed on a new plant we'd just added to the tank. He was cute. And fast. Little snail dude could make some time as he scooted around the tank.

I mentioned to my yoga instructor that we had a snail and she warned me to be careful. "I think they can reproduce on their own," she said.

Naturally, I ignored this.

Fast forward 3 weeks. Our little snail dude has gotten quite big and we're attached to him--he's part of the tank. Then we notice a baby snail dude hanging out next to him. Had the snail reproduced? Nah, we decided. We'd put yet another plant in the tank and figured this snail also had hitched a ride. Two snails--how fun!

Yesterday evening: I walk by the tank, stop, and go back. I lean in to examine the rock. Guess what? Covered in snails. I stopped counting when I got to eight. Blair came home from work and I welcomed him with the words, "We've got a snail problem."

Here's the bad part: we got rid of them. All of them, including our big buddy, First Snail. I haven't reconciled the hypocritcal part of me that does animal rescue with the fact that I'm willing to trash snails to keep my tank clean. I went online and did some reading and pet stores won't take them. What does one do with snails? I feel bad but apparently not bad enough to put up with snails. I just didn't see an end in sight. How many snails would 8-12 snails produce in a week? A month? A year? The only way we saw to keep the tank was to make a clean start.

I'm sorry, little snails. I enjoyed your brief time with us.

We'll be checking those plants a whole lot closer in the future.

R.I.P., Little Fishie

We lost one of our Corydora fish today. Blair found him, God rest his fishie soul. I feel bad for the remaining Cory. It's him against 5 Tetras, a Pl*co, and a random snail that somehow found her way in. Have to say, I'm relieved this happened while we were here and not on the pet sitter's watch this weekend. 

Bye-bye Cory. Thanks for hangin' with us.

Kung-Fu Kitty

Blair and I have started a nice little morning ritual where he feeds the fish and then we sit together on the couch in semi-darkness, sipping coffee and watching them eat. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don't.  It's a peaceful opening to the day before "the world" intrudes.

Of course, if you have cats, "the world" always intrudes. The other morning we were sitting quietly, contemplating the fish when suddenly kung-fu cat appeared and attacked the fish tank.

"WAH-HAH-HEE-AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE-YAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Lucy leapt onto the dining room chair and pummelled the glass barrier. Her paws were a blur of karate chops. Fish scattered, Blair and I both jumped and kung-fu kitty, having made her point, leapt off the chair and raced out of the room.

"Is she high? Blair asked, brushing spilled coffee off his robe.

I have no idea what gets into her. After 80 billion attempts, you would think she would have clued in by now that the fish tank is impenetrable.  Apparently she thought ancient Eastern martial arts held the key to success.  Hopefully she's learned her lesson.

Although I'm concerned she hasn't give up. I saw her studying a book of dark magic the other day.

Be very afraid...