Post by etana on Feb 16, 2015 14:26:44 GMT
It's my first time writing a memorial to a small snail. The Cepaea on the right passed away yesterday, most likely from old age.
Many nights in a row I'd heard the sound of a small snail falling, and now I think it was him. The last time he fell was from the ceiling of a fruit-shaped house. He was still alive at that point, but unwilling to come out. I placed him on grated sweet potato, which usually brings even the sleepiest, laziest snail out of his shell. He only retracted deeper in, and after hours of observing him go deeper and deeper, I decided to do everything I know of to get him to come out. He was completely unresponsive.
He was one of my first ever two Cepaea. I'll always remember him, because he was the very snail who taught me that snails are not random but instead can decide to do quite big things for such a small creature. He pushed open the lid of his quarantine box and escaped, and after I'd searched frantically around the apartment, I found him trying to get into my snail tank (the only one I had at the time). I opened the tank's lid, he went right in. It was eye-opening for me and I still recite the story to everyone who thinks snails can't plan their actions.
I'll also remember him from the sad day when he wanted to lay eggs. He dug many holes, chose one, laid a few eggs, and passed out unconscious. I thought he was finished and placed his limp little self on top of food. He woke up, and freaked out, because he still had eggs coming out of him. The poor fellow then ran around dropping eggs everywhere. Taught me a lesson about patience. That is a story that makes me smile a bit, too.
His shell was broken and worn out already the day he was found, so I thought he'd die soon, but to my surprise it never seemed to bother him. He hibernated too, making it this far through the winter, occasionally waking up to snail around and then going back to sleep for a week or two. I have no idea how old he was, but quite likely older than the others.
Bye little Snail, thank you so much for visiting my life and giving me very important lessons about snails. If there's snaily afterlife, I hope you have a flawless, shiny shell over there. And, say hello to my dear Old Grumpy.
Many nights in a row I'd heard the sound of a small snail falling, and now I think it was him. The last time he fell was from the ceiling of a fruit-shaped house. He was still alive at that point, but unwilling to come out. I placed him on grated sweet potato, which usually brings even the sleepiest, laziest snail out of his shell. He only retracted deeper in, and after hours of observing him go deeper and deeper, I decided to do everything I know of to get him to come out. He was completely unresponsive.
He was one of my first ever two Cepaea. I'll always remember him, because he was the very snail who taught me that snails are not random but instead can decide to do quite big things for such a small creature. He pushed open the lid of his quarantine box and escaped, and after I'd searched frantically around the apartment, I found him trying to get into my snail tank (the only one I had at the time). I opened the tank's lid, he went right in. It was eye-opening for me and I still recite the story to everyone who thinks snails can't plan their actions.
I'll also remember him from the sad day when he wanted to lay eggs. He dug many holes, chose one, laid a few eggs, and passed out unconscious. I thought he was finished and placed his limp little self on top of food. He woke up, and freaked out, because he still had eggs coming out of him. The poor fellow then ran around dropping eggs everywhere. Taught me a lesson about patience. That is a story that makes me smile a bit, too.
His shell was broken and worn out already the day he was found, so I thought he'd die soon, but to my surprise it never seemed to bother him. He hibernated too, making it this far through the winter, occasionally waking up to snail around and then going back to sleep for a week or two. I have no idea how old he was, but quite likely older than the others.
Bye little Snail, thank you so much for visiting my life and giving me very important lessons about snails. If there's snaily afterlife, I hope you have a flawless, shiny shell over there. And, say hello to my dear Old Grumpy.
