By Ruth D'Alessandro, The Wildlife Gardener

It's a slug eat slug world
BBC news online says that there are 15 BILLION slugs in Britain. That’s two hundred and fifty slugs for every single one of us living in the United Kingdom. And I find that astonishing. Astonishing because I thought there would be more, going by the vast slimy influx of seemingly thousands of these gastropods into The Wildlife Garden. Perhaps I am doing all you flat-dwellers a favour by domiciling your slugs.

It has been perfect summer holiday weather – for the slugs. And the size of them! I can't walk outside in the evening without stepping on a rubbery lump and being catapulted into the air. Treading on them does not kill them; they just glare at me for interrupting their forays. I had long believed that it's not the huge slugs gardeners need to worry about, but the small ones that ate all your veg. Now I'm not so sure.

I thought that the huge black, red, brown and cream slugs were detritivores, happier clearing up the cat poo, rotting fruit, compost and even their cousins that the dog trod on than attacking the veg patch.

Now, an entire row of dwarf beans and one of gorgeous Genovese basil has been gorged. And a big red slug was seen hiding in the spinach.

Now dear Wildlife Garden readers, can you help me? Are these big slugs destructive, or are they nature’s bin men, sorry, operatives? Has anyone seen Big Slugs wantonly eating their plants? Answers on the blog please.

The Leopard That Doesn’t Need To Change Its Spots
There is, however, one slug I am always delighted to see, and that is the leopard slug (Limax maximus):

It is an innocent, and rather beautiful visitor to our gardens. It doesn’t eat plants, only fungi, decaying matter, and here, a Smartie that one of the children dropped on the doorstep:

The Leopard slug is a limacid slug, which means that it has a small calcareous shell under that slimy cloak-like mantle on its back. If you happen to touch the mantle you can feel the shell underneath.

In one of my school French essays a slug was escargot sans maison. In the case of the leopard slug, with its tiny calcareous shell, it's more like escargot avec studio flat. And just for all you students of French out there who are desperate to include slugs in your essays, the proper word is une limace. So now you know.

Treasure your leopard slugs if you have them. They do no harm to your garden, and if you are really lucky, you may witness some of the weirdest sex in the animal world.