<p>Ragged holes in your prize hosta are a good indication that it has been chewed on by a snail or slug, both of whom like damp, shady habitats and tender leaves. Photo by Marilyn Gilbaugh</p>

Slugs, those undulating blobs and master plant wreckers, really don’t give a rip what we humans think of them. Without a sign of fear or hesitation from “people-presence,” those incessantly gnawing, spineless crawlers are focused only on our plants. Year after year, it’s the battle of Gardeners vs. Gastropods.

In the spring, anxious gardeners sometimes kid themselves that this will be the season that they – being bigger, smarter and having “real” brains – will win the persistent slug-initiated game of Eat-the-Garden. Sadly, every season coastal gardeners find it’s just another round of slugging it out. And they know the score right from the opening chomp is Slugs: One, Gardeners: Zero.

THE GOOD: Slugs and their cousins, the more aggressive snails, are in a large portion of the animal kingdom (mollusks) that is outnumbered only by insects. Their scientific class, Gastropoda, translates literally as “stomach foot,” an apt description. And they’re not all bad. Ciscoe Morris, gardening author and radio host, writes: “They (slugs) break down rotting organic substances, turning them into nutrients for plants. They’re also a great food source for many mammals, reptiles, insects and birds and of course, humans. Think escargot. Medically they are proving useful, too. Slug slime from our own Northwest native banana slug is being used with cancer drugs to make them much more effective in the fight to cure disease.”

THE BAD: They have enormous appetites. Big plants, little plants, seedlings, sometimes even trees can be vulnerable to this eating machine. David George Gordon, author of “The Secret World of Slugs and Snails: Life in the Very Slow Lane,” notes that “many slugs consume several times their own body weight each day. Tools of their trade include a guillotine-like jaw and mouth equipped with a radula, Latin for a scraper. The radula is a ribbon affixed with thousands of backward-pointing replaceable teeth, also useful in slug-to-slug combat.”

Being hermaphrodites (both male and female), some slugs can reproduce without mating and all can lay multiple egg sacks several times a year. They spend their time mostly breathing, eating and mating, having little time or interest in setting up permanent housekeeping, content to dig in underground or settle under rocks, logs, leaves and garden décor.

THE UGLY: Ecologist Mike Patterson’s main task is counting salamanders, and he runs across all kinds of slugs chewing through the forest. “There’s no such thing as good and bad – it’s what humans assign and try to impose,” Patterson asserts. “All things are what they are.” Most of us would agree in theory, but maybe not in practice. Slugs are ugly – to us, anyway – and they’re slimy. They produce two kinds of mucus, thin on the bottom of the foot, which helps them travel in those undulating waves, and thicker elsewhere, which they use for moisture control, mating and self-defense against predators and gardeners.

THE SOLUTION? Pam Fleming, Seaside’s master gardening magician, says, “My best advice is prevention. I thoroughly inspect any plant materials I introduce to the landscape – foliage and container – and then drop the plant out of the container and check inside too. Keep debris picked and allow space between the ground and bottoms of plant foliage; also use slug resistant plant materials.”

Patterson’s daughter, Michelle, has found that slugs in her garden don’t like pressure treated lumber. Cannon Beach Mayor Mike Morgan reports that leaving a board on the ground works like a charm. Flipping it a few days later yields a host of slugs that can be disposed of. Some folks drown them in beer, repel them with coffee grounds or put down copper to zap their tender little feet. And there’s always pet-friendly slug bait. So gardeners, pick up your gloves, shovels and hoes and let the games continue.