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Journalism of Courage
This is the time of the year when they emerge from their underground lairs or from behind the bark of tree trunks and hollows. They crawl slowly (like everything else they do), leaving behind a silvery trail of what looks like snot. Their four feelers wave in the air — the longer ones on top are pinpointed with a pair of eyes (that don’t see too well), while the bottom pair searches out the delectable perfume of a prospective partner, and feels around the ground.
Snails — escargots, if you like to eat them in French restaurants. For you and me, love is complicated enough, but snails take it to another level. You see, each snail may be a boy snail or a girl snail (straightforward enough) or – get this — a boy snail and a girl snail at the same time. (I won’t go in with that other combination of now a boy snail, now a girl snail, which apparently some can also do!) So he’s a she and she’s a he and what the heck happens when they set eyes on one another — or actually sniff each other out? Naturally, they draw closer, very slowly, just checking each other out, making sure the other is indeed the snail of their dreams — and of the same species. If so, they’ll slowly manoeuvre around one another doing what would be the equivalent of a snail waltz, touching feelers and kissing. Actually, like slow-motion Sumo wrestlers, they’re jousting for the best position.
Then, a slim white harpoon or dart shoots out from the neck of each one and embeds itself in the partner’s body. This famous ‘love dart’ is not what you’re probably thinking it is! It’s like a fingernail, made of chitin or calcium carbonate and it is coated with a cocktail of chemicals. Bound together like two glutinous ships they now come together, chest against chest — rather like sportspeople bumping chests together in acute slow motion. Boy snail No.1 is now with girl snail No.2 and boy snail No.2 is now with girl snail No.1 and they may be so for hours. And both have the same agenda but carry them out in contradictory, opposing ways.
The chemicals that cover the harpoon enter each partner’s bloodstream, encouraging the fertilisation of the lady’s eggs while at the same time discouraging any further mating with another Lothario. His lady partner, however, has the opposite in mind — she wouldn’t mind going around with as many slime-ball rakes as she can — so that her babies may have multiple fathers, and thus, a better chance to survive. So her internal plumbing is designed to digest more than 99 per cent of her beau’s sperms, before they make their way to a pouch where they can be stored for use later on. So a battle of the sexes is very much on the cards! It’s said that the gentleman with the stronger, longer, faster harpoon has a better chance at becoming a father than one whose harpoon does not quite have the same firepower. The lady, in the meantime, tries to make sure that fertilisation is minimised, so she can carry on with other guys and improve her chances of giving birth to the Rambo-equivalent of snails. She may try to develop a thicker skin so as to shield her from the dart, but this seems to be a long shot considering how soft and spongy her body is.
I cannot imagine the confusion caused in a snail’s brain — when it is both attacker (his gentleman half) and defender (the lady half)! Or, how they would explain the facts of life to their kids when they’re all set to leave home.
Mama: Baby, there’s something you should know. I’m also a he!
Baby: What? But you’re a she!
Mama: Well, let’s say then a she-he
Baby: And who’s my papa?
Mama: Baby, brace yourself. He’s also a she. Or rather a he-she.
Baby: And what does that make me? He-she or she-he?
Mama: Well, dear, both at the same time. Now do slide along and find yourself a nice girl and boy.
Baby (who’s a bit of a brat): So, did you like the ‘she’ part of papa, mama? Was she nice? And did she like you? And did papa like the ‘he’ part of you?
Mama: Are you kidding, baby? All that your papa wanted was for me to have as many of his babies as possible while I wanted to shop around for a bit of variety. You’d have more interesting brothers and sisters that way.
Baby: But mama, your ‘he’ part must have done the same to papa’s ‘she’ part.
Mama: And she must have done the same because she wants to go around with other lowlifes and have their babies — the trollop!
Luckily for them, snail mamas simply bury their eggs in the soil and go on their way, escaping this confusing conversation and letting their kids find out in their own way.
