Do molluscs think?
 
Have they got brains, ids and egos, and are they self-aware?
 
Do they enjoy lust, gluttony, avarice, pride, sloth, anger and envy, just
like the rest of us?
 
I ask, because I have just been outwitted, upstaged, and quite hornswoggled
by a Cypraea lynx.
 
In the experiment with the magnesium sulphate, the more perceptive and
intelligent cowries tried to climb up the wall of the jar, out of the
noxious mixture. I kept knocking them back down, but one, Lynx, kept on
coming back up.
 
So I saved him from the fate of all the others, and kept him in a plastic
box with twice daily changes of seawater and bits of fresh algae for lunch.
 
It has been raining for four days now, with electricity cut for three, and
down at Lalay's, where we all meet for an evening drink, we needed a
diversion.
 
I organised a snail race, a Cowry Grand National, in Lalay's kitchen sink.
The Canal Turn was at one end of it, and Becher's Brook the plug hole.
 
The field was limited to a bag of fresh-caught cowries, the usual suspects
from around here, Monetas, Teres, Isabellas, Carneolas, Talpas, Vitelluses
(Vitelli?), Errones, etc., but only one Lynx, mine. Tigrises were out; they
crowd the others too much.
 
I gave them all a good solid breakfast of Quaker Oats. Except for my Lynx.
He had just a glass of orange, vitamin pills, and a few leftover grains of
Viagra.
 
Each entrant chose his own runner. Pirate Pete took the big black Arabica
with the keeled ends, because he thought it looked evil and nautical (he's a
snob, and thinks Arabian means thoroughbred), but I wasn't worried. I
already knew it was a slow mover.
 
The gambling was quite heavy. The Australians here will bet on anything that
moves. My Lynx was odds-on favourite. They all knew I had been training him.
I staked the bank on him as well.
 
The great race was won by a nippy little Stolida, in a close photo-finish
with two hydrodynamically streamlined Isabellas. Pirate Pete's Arabica came
in last. He tried to cheat by doping it with a drop of rum on its tail.
 
All the cowries did very well, streaking along like yearling fillies. They
cleared the jumps like veteran steeplechasers. Except for my Lynx.
 
My Lynx just stayed pat on the starting line.
 
He didn't even budge.
 
I lost a small fortune on my Lynx, almost seven dollars in your money.
 
Or maybe he was a she. Is that why it was so moody?
 
We shall never know, because it got the hook-and-chlorine treatment last
night, and now it's just a pretty shell in a box.
 
Does anyone out there know the racing form of Cauricas, Maculiferas, Mappas,
Aurantiums, and even a Sakurai? I've got them all in training just now.
They're out having their early morning gallop as I write.
 
Richard Parker, Siargao, Philippines
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