I like periwinkles. They’re plump, hardy little snails that can withstand all the hardships that a rocky shore has to offer, and when I was in grad school they never tried to commit suicide in the lab the way my research subjects did.
[look at (part of) that sweet face!]
It’s only recently, however, that I discovered—or perhaps rediscovered—another one of their charms. As they crawl over the rocks at low tide to graze on seaweed and films of algae, they leave little brine-and-slime trails behind them.
The trails aren’t the magical, glittering lines that land snails and slugs leave—these are subtler and more watery—but they tell a wonderful story about where the snails have been and how they’ve come to arrive where they are.
The stories, admittedly, lack motive, but that’s what science—or creative writing—is for.
{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}
No comments:
Post a Comment