by Suzy Banks
The Worms Crawl In Even though we moved 30 miles outside of town, we still have a lot of visitors
to our house. Most of them want something. But last Sunday, Gene and Judy Reed
drove all the way from Bulverde to bring us something: two buckets of
wiggly red worms. Two pounds of Eisenia foetida. Hundreds, maybe
thousands, of new pets. (How am I ever going to name them all? Squirmy? Tube?
Headless?)
At least I don’t have to take them all to the vet to be vaccinated. And food
is cheap; they like garbage. Favorite treats include banana peels, egg shells,
shredded newspaper, coffee grounds, and coffee filters. They’ll croak if I toss
cat poop, citrus peels, meat, and greasy bones in their little bucket. (I’d
croak, too.) They have no problem recycling one another after death �
la Soylent Green, but if they run out of food in their buckets,
they’ll eat their own worm casings, which are poison… to worms, anyway. I
have to nag them to wear their little sunbonnets because the light can paralyze
them within an hour.
Worms don’t have to worry about dating; they’re hermaphrodites. But they do
have to get along with another worm long enough to join together at the
clitella (the swollen area near the head of a mature worm) to exchange
sperm. Ten days later, they lay a lemon-shaped egg about the size of a match
head.
After 14-21 days, one to five baby worms hatch from the eggs. (You think
puppies are cute? You should see a baby worm.) In a couple of months, these
babies are ready to start their own families. Can you see how the population in
a five-gallon bucket could get out of hand rather quickly? That’s why we’ll
have to harvest our friends every three to six months. My favorite method I’ve
read about involves dumping the contents of the bucket on a piece of plastic,
separating it into several small piles, then finding something else to do for
about 15 minutes. The light will drive the worms to the center of the pile. I
just skim the worm-free layer — the vermicompost — off the piles and sprinkle
it in my garden. The nitrogen-rich worm castings are great plant food and also
improve soil structure and drainage.
If you want to learn more about worms and start raising a huge batch of
friends who’ll never ask to borrow your car or invite themselves over for
margaritas, check out the vermicomposter’s Bible: Mary Appelhof’s book Worms
Eat My Garbage.
Are you sure you want my advice? Then e-mail your questions to me at:
Suzebe@aol.com or snail mail ’em to: The Austin Chronicle, PO Box
49066, Austin, TX 78765.
This article appears in March 21 • 1997 and March 21 • 1997 (Cover).