Out of the corner of my eye while wandering along in that half, day-dream state that a weekend walk produces, I caught a glimpse of a two-humped snail.

Actually on closer inspection, as I tried to persuade Jack not to gobble the whole thing up, I realised that it was probably two snails humping.

Interesting though.

Like the dragon fly hovering centimetres above the lazy, black water of Launceston's North Esk River at full summer tide or the family of ducks surprised into flight at the sight of Jack's hairy muzzle thrust into the cool water for a drink near their nest.

I suppose you could call the little green bundles that Jack and I keep stumbling across on our walks lately ``interesting''.

There was one strategically placed at the gate of the dog off-leash area along the Henry Street Bridge walking trail the other day _ a small, green, plastic bundle tied with a knot.

What did the person who deposited it there imagine would happen to the bag of dog poo?

Did he or she expect someone else to pick it up and carry it the extra few metres to put it in the rubbish bin at the car park?

Was the person and dog caught short so to speak, at the start of their walk and the person couldn't bring themselves to carry said dog poo bag all the way and back again?

I keep coming across these green plastic deposits in the most unlikely places _ on the top of fence posts, halfway along city street lanes, BESIDE rubbish bins.

They are almost more offensive than the uncovered, raw version.

At least the original deposit that we have all been ordered to pick up after our dogs eventually disintegrates _ green plastic doesn't, not for at least a couple of hundred years.

So would you mind taking your full plastic poo bags with you to the nearest rubbish bin and putting it INSIDE the receptacle, even if it has to be the home garbage bin.

Left on the side of the walking track offends Jack's sensitive nose and destroys my view of snails acting strangely.