Snail Job: Adventures in Invasive Species Removal
The snails in question are called Chinese Mystery Snails, which is a name that raises far more questions than it answers. For instance: why are they mysterious? Are they Chinese by nationality or just marketing? Do they know something we don’t? I did some reading, and it turns out they’re native to Southeast Asia, where people actually eat them. Apparently they’re high in protein and quite tasty, if you’re into that sort of thing. Here, though, they’re considered invasive—an ecological party crasher with a bad attitude and a prolific reproductive strategy.
Which is where I come in. For the low, low rate of $100 an hour plus expenses—yes, really—I dive into the lake, collect snails by hand, and transport them in a large inflatable inner tube rigged with a dive flag, which drags behind me like a parade float.
Today’s weather was what polite people call “bracing” and impolite people call “utterly miserable.” The air temperature hovered in the upper 30s, and a stiff north wind blew in waves large enough to whitecap, which made dragging my floating snail barge across the lake feel like towing a moody walrus with a mind of its own.
They breed like caffeinated rabbits and must be picked up one by one. It’s like trying to empty a bathtub with a teaspoon—but hey, it’s $100 an hour.
My first dive was a scouting trip—nothing too strenuous, just a casual meander through the underwater landscape to see what had changed since last season and maybe snap a few photos. I encountered several largemouth bass nests, complete with fiercely paternal fish guarding their newly laid eggs. One of the bass took exception to my presence and charged at me with all the bravado of a drunk guy in a parking lot. If he’d been 20 pounds heavier and had even one decent tooth, I might’ve been alarmed. Instead, I laughed into my regulator and took his picture.
The fry should hatch in just a few days, which means I’ll likely be back next week to photograph tiny baby fish while being glared at by their exhausted father. I can relate.
I managed two dives before I was cold, wind-whipped, and running low on enthusiasm. Pulled out maybe twenty pounds of snails—fewer than I’d hoped, but I blame the weather, which at one point turned into a dramatic rain-snow hybrid as I packed up my gear. Nothing says “summer gig” like scraping snow off your drysuit
Still, it’s the best-paying job I’ve ever had. And I’ve seen some remarkable things: spawning fish, swimming loons, and the surreal joy of being paid to do something so strange you’re not entirely sure it qualifies as real work.
I can’t wait to do it again next week..
