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| Tecuciztecatl awaiting his star-turn at the Shindig |
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| In his party finery - notice the monocle? Sadly he only has one eyeball, being a snail. |
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| The newly appointed office mascot - power to the Great Snail! |
Those of you who used to attend my Slugs & Snails Parties will recognise the chap above for who he is: Tecuciztecatl, the possibly only god of slugs and snails that ever was. In the olden days, when my garden was overrun with these pests, I used to hold an Anti-Slugs & Snails Party each Spring.
Various weirdos, including myself, would gather in the twilight of a cold March evening around the specially appointed for the occasion Snail Priestess. Illuminated by the flickering light of the odd candle or two, she would recite the official Ode to Tecuciztecatl (penned by yours truly, who else?) in a sonorous mournful voice.
Afterwards we would pour libations to the much-forgotten god, and also recite whatever snatches of appropriate poetry we could dredge up from the murky basement of our memories for the occasion.
In this we were usually watched in amazed wonderment by various neighbours, who, though used to my assorted eccentricities, were nevertheless spiritually dislocated, and, one hopes, permanently emotionally unhinged, by the ghostly nocturnal ritual that unfolded before their astonished eyes.
To the surprise of those amongst my readership who do not believe in the astonishing powers of Tecuciztecatl - few, to be sure - those evenings were amazingly successful, so much so that I did not have to hold an Anti-Slugs & Snails Party for several years now. No doubt the Mighty Mollusk asserted his powers and restrained his slimy followers from laying waste my herb garden.
Since those heady days he has been eking out a lonesome existence in my attic, mothballed and deprived of most of his stuffing, with only the Christmas decorations and assorted storage chests for company.
However, a recent London event I participated in necessitated the presence of a large flightless mono-pod, and Tecuciztecatl agreed to slip into the breach. He was without a doubt the star of the occasion, and everyone became quite fond of him. There was even talk of making him the official mascot, and relying on his bulk for assistance after the sort of party that necessitates firm support.....
Just in case you have problems with slugs & snails in your garden, and would like to perform nocturnal snailish rituals, I include both the official Ode to Tecuciztecatl, and The Lament of a Gardener, at the end of this post.
If you plan to set it to music, and make any money out of it, I expect a cut, naturally!
Ode to Tecuciztecatl
Hear us Tecuciztecatl
Listen in your rocky tomb
Hearken to your faithful servants
And avert our snailish doom.
Every year we struggle greatly
Cultivate this plot of soil
Trying hard to make a living
Night and day, we toil and moil.
But alas, we labour vainly
Every year our effort fails
And the cause, I hate to say it
Are your kin, the slugs and snails.
Hardly have the first spring sun rays
Warmed the earth of hill and dale
Got the timid seeds to waken
They get eaten by some snail.
Vegetables, herbs, and flowers
Fruits and grasses without fail
Anything that’s green and growing
All gets eaten by some snail.
We are loathe to seem ungracious
We’re prepared to share our kales
And our other garden produce
With your ever hungry snails.
But your small and slimy kindred
Crawl along destructive trails
They don’t
share, they leave us nothing
Those voracious, selfish snails.
Be aware we face starvation
Without food we’ll grow too frail
To grow further garden produce!
Starving, too, will slug and snail.
Thus we fervently beseech you
To restrain your hungry kin
So that our ravaged landscape
Will bear fruit and veg again.
Otherwise we might take action
Which you surely would bewail
With the help of many poisons
We might murder every snail.
Gracious Tecuciztecatl
Do not tempt us to betrayal
Speak to your voracious kindred
Summon every slug and snail.
Abstinence might be the answer
Tell the women and the males
Sex is nasty and unworthy
Of all self-respecting snails.
Tell the snails they’ll lose their houses
Like the slugs did, without fail
If they don’t reduce their numbers
To a manageable scale.
To the slugs promise new houses
If their breeding they curtail
Cosy, comfy, rent free dwellings
With a stove and curtain rail.
In conclusion, noble mollusc
Help us to contain your kin
So that snail and slug and human
Live in harmony again.
and, following in the footsteps of Goethe's 'Who never ate his bread in tears',
Lament of a Gardener
Who never sowed his seeds in fear
Who never on a warm spring day
Discovered amidst rising tears
The ravages in early May –
Who never planted tender seedlings
Hopeful of luscious bud and bloom
Can ever understand the feelings
Of blood-thirst, pain and hate that loom
In ev’ry gardener’s anguished heart
When one fine morning with a mug
Of tea he makes an early start
To find the season’s first vile slug.
A stricken cry escapes his throat
The mug falls from his trembling hand
The milky tea spills on his coat
And forms a puddle in the sand.
“Oh woe is me!” he cries aloud
to wife and child: “Farewell my dears!”
“Tis time to darn and press my shroud”-
while sharpening the garden shears.
He is finally bend on Hara-kiri –
Dear Me!
