There’s two races when picking strawberries. One is to get them before they go mushy. The other is to get them before the slugs do.
I’ve been really lucky with the strawberries this year. Just as the berries first started getting ripe some relatively dry weather kept the slugs at bay long enough for me pick four pints. Then the last few days have been raining off and on and keeping me away from picking more.
Not the slugs. They don’t look all that smart, spending their existence sliding around on their stomachs on trails of slime, but they are experts when it comes to strawberries. They never bother the half-ripe or the nearly ripe, but wait until the berries reach their peak. Ah, it must be pure joy to be a slug, spending the night on a strawberry, savoring that one little divot of sweetness.
Writing Every Day 