Chapter 162
10/30/2007
Wormiculture in Virgil
we own the night
We took worm ranching seriously back in the day! We maintained a wrigley wranch out in the shade behind the garage where we always had a wooden box half buried in the ground as a supply of fat nightcrawlers for fishing bait. We'd feed them dirt, leaves, coffee grounds, tea bags and maybe the odd cantelope or a donut. In this vid, I've simply documented the art of worm rustling which is a simple process and second nature to us but will be enlightening to some.
The critters come out of their holes at night so it's easy pickin. It was usually best after a rain and with moonlight. There is an art to the task. One walks stealthily, along with a moderately bright light. You need to look toward the edge of the light because once the bright light hits them the scoot back into their holes so fast you'll never git em. You can try to grab them between thumb and forefinger for a quick pickup, if you run across a dumb one. For the more astute varieties, you may have to employ the two handed variation where you lunge and press your palm on them hard enough that they can't move. It should be game over like the pin in wrestling, but you'd be surprised- some can still escape. The withdrawl is the critical stage. If you yank em from their holes too fast, they'll break in two. I like to use a moderate tension pressure to overpower them. When you feel their muscles fatiguing and bodies elongating, that's the rewarding moment. You can now quickly pull em out of their homes.
They prefer nice earthy loamy soil. Gardens and flowerbeds are great. A golf course, fargitaboutit, Eureka.
Brother Dale Olmsted, here is the demonstrator. We used to go as a tag team with one on light and worm can, one the designated worm wrangler. Shots of (great?) nephews fishing in Pete Hans pond are out of chronological sequence, but I have poetic license. Shots of the Virgil Store bring back so many memories- another time. Bob Bayes barn in the opening shot- my first car for the street ('58 Chev) was owned by him.
"Compost Happens"
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