Showing posts with label snail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snail. Show all posts

Friday, 29 May 2026

The Snail

 

The Snail by William Cowper (1731-1800)

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,
The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all
Together.

Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides
Of weather.

Give but his horns the slightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such,
He shrinks into his house, with much
Displeasure.

Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own
Whole treasure.

Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds
The faster.

Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combined,)
If, finding it, he fails to find
Its master.

 

Do snails have feelings?

In his poem, written in the 18th century, William Cowper suggests that the snail senses danger.

 Scientific experiments have shown that snails react to rudimentary feelings like pain and pleasure. They have no central nervous system but rely on nerve cells called ganglia to process experiences. The reactions are simply a means of survival.

 When injured or exposed to harmful substances like salt, or slug pellets, they withdraw into their shells and produce foam. This is an involuntary reaction. The foam is a response to unpleasant or harmful chemicals, and a way of swilling nasty poisons out of their systems. They also foam if small insects like ants try to get into their shells, trapping or deterring the invaders.  Snails have also been observed to show fear if predators are near. Under threat, their breathing and movement slows.

 By contrast, they can show behaviour that suggests pleasure. People who keep snails as pets report that their animals seem to be contented when moving across a wet surface or being sprayed with a fine mist of water at room temperature.

Snails show interest tantamount to excitement when they are offered fresh food, particularly cucumber, which is a favourite treat, though nutritionally empty. They raise their bodies and fully extend their ommatophores (eye-stalks!)

Although they are considered to be solitary creatures, some owners have seen their snails huddle together to feed or sleep. They suggest that snails show signs of distress when one of their fellows dies, or if they are kept in isolation.

It appears that snails can recognise their keepers and be content in their company.

In the wild, snails huddle together to conserve moisture and prevent their skins drying out. In winter they seal their shells to keep out predators, and freezing air, and to prevent dehydration. 

Snails hibernate, but slugs do not.

I didn’t think there would be a collective noun for snails, but I found several. The most common is the elegant ‘escargatoire,’ for, naturellement, the French would have a suitable name. There used to be a cafĂ© in Cherbourg called Madame l’Escargot which served delicious escargots, a succulent treat, so I'm told, after sailing across the English Channel (or, if you’re French, La Manche.)

 Another collective noun for snails is a ‘walk’, which is rather appealing, while a third is a ‘rout. A rout is a chaotic progression, or, in military terms, a disorderly retreat after a defeat.

Each of those nouns is rather attractive. I would have expected more apt terms, like slime, or, more poetically, silver, or perhaps spiral. What would you suggest?

Thursday, 28 May 2026

Fibonacci sequence

 

Fibonacci sequence

                     White-lipped snail on limestone (Cepaea hortensis)

In the Fibonacci sequence each number is discovered by adding up the two preceding numbers. It begins with 0 or 1, and proceeds 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, and so forth.

The Fibonacci numbers were described in Indian mathematics around 200 BC, but were named after Leonardo of Pisa, known also as Fibonacci, who introduced the sequence to the West in 1202.

Fibonacci numbers appear in nature, in flowers, leaves, shells, fruit.

In Fibonacci poetry, the objective is to follow the Fibonacci sequence in the number of syllables to be written in each line. A  Fibonacci poem is typically six lines with twenty syllables

I enjoyed the challenge of writing a poem in Fibonacci form a long time ago. It was about a snail shell. I also reversed the sequence, so the syllable count is 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 8, 5, 3, 2, 1, 1.

 

Snail
Shell
Empty
Abandoned
Once mollusc’s retreat
Cast aside for eternity
Unless another entity
Chances upon it
Fancies it
Moves in
Lives
There.

 

I was looking for a subject for doggerel. I didn’t really find one!

Snail bails out,
Snail can’t shout,
Lunch for bird,
How absurd.

Of course, snails don’t bail out of their shells. They hatch with a protoconch, a minute, soft shell, and their shells continue to grow until they reach their adult size. They need a diet rich in calcium to continue developing strong, healthy shells. If they have a poor diet (never thought I’d ever write that!) their shells will suffer, becoming thin and sometimes even deformed. If a snail’s shell is destroyed, it cannot grow a new one and it will die from dehydration.

Where do snails find calcium? Do they drink gallons – oh, all right, millilitres - of milk, crumbs of cheese, tiny omelettes, petite fish?

With their little rasping tongues, they feed on things like limestone, chalk, dead wood, lichen, old bones, and empty snail shells.

Is the concept of cannibalism alien to snails, and is it cannibalism if they’re just consuming an old house? They will eat their squashed, deceased friends and relatives if the opportunity arises, for they are a rich source of protein, so cannibalistic behaviour can be attributed to them. In any case can snails understand ‘concepts?’  

 

Lunch for a snail:
Lime and some chalk,
A rasp of kale,
 A lick of wood,
Abandoned shell.

Monday, 28 August 2023

Small, but perfect

 Small, but perfect  

   

We are enjoying a glut of apples and plums this year which we are happy to share with others, human or otherwise. The over-ripe, the serially pecked and the windfalls drop to the ground, to be consumed by a myriad tiny creatures.

In this morning’s harvest, a small but perfect passenger was brought safely indoors, travelling on a ripe apple. All babies are beautiful, even snails. 

I liked the first verses of this poem by John Bunyan, Upon a Snail:

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure;

She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do:

Her journey's shorter, so she may endure

Better than they which do much further go.  


She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on

The flower or herb appointed for her food,

The which she quietly doth feed upon, 

While others range and glare, but find no good.


And though she doth but very softly go,

However, 'tis not fast, nor slow, but sure;

And certainly they that do travel so,

The prize they aim at, they do procure.