For the record, this is a potato.
And this isn’t.
But when you see that thing and it’s in the dirt and it’s where a potato ought to be, well your mind fills in a blank. It goes something like this:
My Mind: Here’s the happy farmer digging for potatoes. Is he afraid of spiders? Nope. Good thing, cause there’s lots of them. Is he afraid of slugs? A little, but he’s confident he can outrun one. Is he.. ooh, there’s a potato.. got you you little sucker… thought you could hide yourself? No way.. not from this guy.. This guy is totally on the ball and totally zeroing in on potatoes. He’s the potato master! Bow to me… oohh there’s another one.. got it.. wriggly one. Soft. Hmm.. did it rot? Odd. Why does it have teeth? Jesus! It bit me! What the… mother@#%$@&… that potato bit me and now it’s scurrying away! Get it! I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the kind of potato grower that lets his potatoes grow and then grow teeth and then bite him and then scurry away! <dives> Got you.. holy @#$@… I don’t think that’s a potato. I’m so going to boil it anyway.
The potatoes did fairly well. Several pounds of a blue kind and a not blue kind. (Next year I’ll pay attention to the names!) There was a family of voles in there and they had been gnawing on some of them, but most made it through.
Dirty hands… dirty work.
A collection of some of the potatoes.
Just remember… if you grow your own potatoes, they aren’t supposed to bite.