The first slug of spring


Image: Pixabay

They are getting earlier…I checked, it was April last year. Granted, last year they had a step to navigate, while the new place allows free ingress over the threshold, but this year, the first slug of spring slithered in through the door on the last Sunday of February. Ani alerted me to the intrusion by singing to the skirting board beside the garden door where the stealthy invasion was happening. I carefully removed the invader, replacing it in the garden… there is no point in even contemplating a more distant location; they are, it seems, homing slugs.

I have tried all the traditional ways of discouraging them, but stop short of deliberate destruction. The odd accident has happened, including squishing and the inadvertent drowning of the two-feather slug,

The fish, happily swimming in their enclosed world, neither know nor would they care about the slug. Their artificially heated environment removes all need to notice the outside world unless it is about to threaten or feed them. Ani, herself more attuned to Nature’s cycles than we mere humans, will not change her stance… invaders of any kind simply do not happen on her watch, regardless of how many legs they may, or may not have.

It is odd how differently we can see the same thing, depending on our perspective. Even as I cringingly removed the small invader, I was still glad to see it. All others of his kind that cross my threshold… and there will doubtless be many… will recieve a chillier reception. Their nature has not changed, only where I stand in relation to them. And whether or not I start wearing slippers…

For the rest of the year I will curse their kind, like allΒ  gardeners and all who go blithely barefoot in their own home., forgetting the possible presence of such intruders. But the first slug of spring marks a passage from chill to warmth.


About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email:
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34 Responses to The first slug of spring

  1. Bernadette says:

    The first slug of spring… too funny. It is funny how we individually mark the change in seasons. I celebrated the return of the chipmunk who lives under my house (and no doubt causing damage) this past weekend.


    • Sue Vincent says:

      I wondered one year how the slugs survived the cold of winter… and was fascinated by what I read. That first slug of spring now has a special place. The second slug will get a very different welcome πŸ˜‰

      Liked by 1 person

  2. noelleg44 says:

    This made me chuckle. Ani on the alert to all forms of invasion! I am waiting for our first mosquito – already saw our first carpenter bee. Spring is indeed early.


  3. Oh I hope this means it will be warmer in the Peak in April this year πŸ™‚


  4. Mary Smith says:

    For me, it’s seeing the first lambs in the fields which marks the arrival of spring. Much prettier than slugs!


  5. samanthamurdochblog says:

    Hmm..not fond of slugs but the colony of ladybirds in my bathroom window frame briefly woke up πŸ™‚


  6. The first slug of the spring? You’re lucky – we’re plagued by the things all year. We think they must be some kind of mutant superspecies, or maybe even goblins in disguise! We don’t like slugs because they spread lungworm. Millie and Pearl xx


  7. Ah Sue, you are a very good woman to put the slug back in your own garden. I usually throw such pests over the wall into the neighbour’s garden Tee hee!


  8. I’d rather we didn’t have slugs whether or not they signal th start of spring!! πŸ™‚


  9. Eliza Waters says:

    NOT my favorite creature – ugh. The thought of bare feet and stepping on one – ach!


  10. You have very energetic slugs.


  11. Bun Karyudo says:

    I don’t have a garden, so I’d be surprised but also rather pleased to discover the first slug of spring. I’d also be impressed. I have no idea how a slug would manage to push the elevator button for the eighth floor.


  12. Saw the first bluebird a weeks ago, definitely more welcome than slugs!


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