Remember that commercial for Chiffon Margarine?
If you don’t, you’re way younger than me, but we won’t discuss that.
Lately, I’ve been seeing some really eye-catching caterpillars around here. I can’t recall ever seeing them before: no more than an inch long, bright lime green with some orange accents on them. I even took some pictures (but naturally, I haven’t uploaded them to the computer yet). I’ve pretty much left them alone, though. That’s my policy on most critters, except copperheads, brown recluse spiders and red wasps. (Hey, killing copperheads is just common sense, and the spiders and wasps started it. Removing them from my universe is self-defense.)
So last night we came home from a delicious and entertaining dinner with the kids and the grandkiddo, and an empty pot had blown over in the driveway. In the dark, I picked it up (too cool at night lately to worry about copperheads) and set it upright, and immediately my hand started stinging. Once I got inside the garage, I found one of those pretty little caterpillars on my hand . . . which kept burning . . . and burning. I flung him off, scrubbed my hand with dish soap, and the burning continued. It took a good cleansing with alcohol and about fifteen minutes for the stinging to stop, and now I have red welts on my palm.
As far as I can tell from the photos I Googled, the little bugger is a Nason’s slug (though their spots are supposed to be red, and these are very definitely orange — I am the queen of all things orange). (But apparently this guy didn’t know that.)
He’s a dead little bugger now.
It may not be nice to fool Mother Nature, but it’s dang sure not nice to fool with me. All stinging slugs, consider yourselves warned.