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Black Mother Goddess
Apr. 17th, 2003 09:14 amI came to a conclusion last night, I just can't take much pleasure in death, even when it falls upon my mortal enemies. I got home after a quick grocery store stop and while I started dinner (heating up some soy and mushroom "meatballs" and a big pot of four cheese sauce on the stove top), I went out to take care of the prison we'd set up for the snails. I grabbed a bucket, a latex glove (purple, and thanks to Kaiser's home nursing program), and prepared to face the yard waste bin.
It was a pretty gruesome sight, snails trying to fit out from under the lip of the lid but unable to escape because of their shells. I made sure the water was fairly deep and soapy and then opened the lid. What a horror show, dead and dying snails everywhere. I plucked off the few determined survivors and plunked them in the bucket. Then grabbed a stick and cleared all the dead ones off the top and sides.
When I glanced down at the bucket I noted with some consternation that many of the snails just weren't drowning. What the hell was up with that? I'd followed instructions, it was supposed to be humane but there they were struggling for life in spite of it all.
With a heavy heart I dumped the bucket on a bare patch of earth that gets no sunlight and then went for the salt. I finished off the remaining live ones and decided that I can't do this again. I'm not an active taker of life, and I don't want to be, even if it is slimy and destructive life.
So, as soon as the rain lets up a bit I'm going to go with the old fashioned beer traps. I don't want to see their demise and I don't want an active role in it. I'll deal with getting rid of the corpses, but that's it.
It's not that I'm too squeamish to do it, it's just that taking life, even for my own benefit bothers me profoundly. It's a big part of the reason I became a vegetarian in the first place, and such an avid gardener. Balancing out the taking of life with the creation of it is kind of a lifelong goal, and I feel terribly out of balance right now.
It was a pretty gruesome sight, snails trying to fit out from under the lip of the lid but unable to escape because of their shells. I made sure the water was fairly deep and soapy and then opened the lid. What a horror show, dead and dying snails everywhere. I plucked off the few determined survivors and plunked them in the bucket. Then grabbed a stick and cleared all the dead ones off the top and sides.
When I glanced down at the bucket I noted with some consternation that many of the snails just weren't drowning. What the hell was up with that? I'd followed instructions, it was supposed to be humane but there they were struggling for life in spite of it all.
With a heavy heart I dumped the bucket on a bare patch of earth that gets no sunlight and then went for the salt. I finished off the remaining live ones and decided that I can't do this again. I'm not an active taker of life, and I don't want to be, even if it is slimy and destructive life.
So, as soon as the rain lets up a bit I'm going to go with the old fashioned beer traps. I don't want to see their demise and I don't want an active role in it. I'll deal with getting rid of the corpses, but that's it.
It's not that I'm too squeamish to do it, it's just that taking life, even for my own benefit bothers me profoundly. It's a big part of the reason I became a vegetarian in the first place, and such an avid gardener. Balancing out the taking of life with the creation of it is kind of a lifelong goal, and I feel terribly out of balance right now.
