Slugs navigate the world using their sense of smell and touch—they don’t have eyes that can read your “No Solicitors” sign. And your house? It’s broadcasting a beacon of delicious, rotting goodness. Think about it: a forgotten potato under the sink, a half-eaten apple core in the bin, or even that dried-up splash of pasta sauce you never quite wiped up. To a slug, that’s a five-course meal with a slime-based appetizer.
I once found a slug curled up inside an old garden glove I’d left on the porch. He looked embarrassed, like I’d caught him wearing my pajamas. But really, he was just sniffing out the fertilizer residue. They’re basically nature’s little garbage disposals with poor social skills.
