We’ve just returned from a week in Provence, and the Camargue. A beautiful, wild and empty place, with salt marshes and rice fields stretching as far as the horizon.
Despite the bulls, the white horses and the flamingoes, the thing that intrigued me most were that all the fence posts were absolutely covered in snails. Clustered together in the baking midday sun like limpits on a shoreline rock.
I know that the French like to eat them with garlic butter, but this behaviour, crowded together on all the fence posts almost like a self-service buffet, totally perplexed me.
Nature is strange!