Science and nature

A four-block trek to and from the beach the other day produced some treasures. When we returned to our patio, these bits of natural life became subjects of amateur science experiments directed by the hands of my 4-year-old while her little brother napped the afternoon away.

We spread out our booty: seeds, mushrooms, flowers, kelp, tiny anemones and a tortured snail. C had scooped him up from the sidewalk and his shell was a little weather-beaten.

 

I sliced everything open and L used kabob skewers to further dissect our discoveries.

 

 

We sprinted between our backyard laboratory and the computer to check out the proper name for the sea vegetation we found and to learn about the life cycle of a snail. L snapped photos and sketched in her journal. (This is a rendering of L and C at the beach, collecting treasures.)

 

L assembled a salad for the snail. We had high hopes after we set our slimy friend in his salad bowl and he crawled quite literally out of his shell to have his snack. He seemed hungry. Comfortable. Appreciative of the surroundings we provided.

We were curious. Would the snail grow a new shell now? Was he molting? A quick look back at snails.com yielded bad news: Snails can't live outside of their shells. Our snail was taking his last breaths with us as his careful guardians. L wasn't as crushed as I was. She seemed to take it in stride. All animals have a lifespan. His was coming to a close.

Later in the afternoon, after C awoke, we set our snail bucket by our front flowerbed and watched the now homeless snail trudge out of the bucket and inch into the ivy. He was riding off into the sunset--millimeter by millimeter.

C still searches for the snail every time we pass the garden where he disappeared. He's hoping for a resurrection, I think. We'll really start believing in miracles if we see a snail without a shell slogging around here in the coming days. If not, may he rest in peace.