{"id":5102,"date":"2013-02-18T00:00:17","date_gmt":"2013-02-18T05:00:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=5102"},"modified":"2013-02-18T16:56:06","modified_gmt":"2013-02-18T21:56:06","slug":"ode-to-annelids","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/ode-to-annelids\/","title":{"rendered":"Ode to Annelids"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Annalids_585x585\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Here I am walking to class, bending over in my raincoat and big clunky Wellingtons, trying to balance my umbrella and my massive backpack while picking up a worm. It squirms out of my hands, like it\u2019s trying to evade my rescue, and I feel like a cop who talks a suicidal man down from a bridge.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d I whisper, \u201cI can\u2019t let you die out here. You\u2019re gonna get squashed by a bike tire.\u201d The worm contorts into a shape that finally allows me to grasp it, and I feel its slime against my fingers as I toss it into the grass nearby. I always wonder if it hurts to land in the grass after flying through the air, but I comfort myself by saying it\u2019s probably less painful than being stepped on.<\/p>\n

Of course, I\u2019ll be the first to admit that I\u2019m saving a species that is technically<\/i> invasive to the Great Lakes area, according to researchers at the University of Minnesota. And I\u2019m also interrupting a mating ritual – that\u2019s why worms come out onto the sidewalks when it rains. Not because they\u2019re drowning, as most people believe, but because that\u2019s the only time the air is humid enough that they won\u2019t shrivel into worm-raisins when they try to mate. But I figure, which is more likely to result in successful reproduction: copulating on a hard, sandy death trap of bike tires and huge feet, or in the soft, safe grass? I\u2019m doing them a favor, plus giving them a little extra privacy to do their business.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been a worm-rescuer for at least half my life, but my career in worm-saving really kicked into gear freshman year of high school at a track meet. I was in line for high jump on a damp day, and looking down in horror, I noticed dozens upon dozens of earthworms cast upon the asphalt. Fortunately, they were away from where the jumpers were. But while I waited in line, I discreetly plucked up as many as I could until it was my turn to go. Members of the other teams giggled and whispered behind their hands to each other. But I stood up tall and said, \u201cFuck \u2018em. I\u2019m saving lives out here.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s serious business for me, but I can understand why others find it odd. After all, worms are given a bad rap. They\u2019re immediately associated with death, decay and rotting things. Think of parasitic worms, like tapeworms or heart worms, which can be lethal and quite literally will eat you from the inside out if left untreated. Not surprisingly, worms even have their own phobia\u2014scoleciphobia, from the Greek skolex<\/i> (which means worm. Thanks, Google Translate!). This fear includes every kind of tubular creepy-crawly, from maggots to earthworms to caterpillars. It\u2019s said to result from a fear of decay, a fear of contamination, or a traumatic event earlier in life involving worms, such as finding an infested carcass or having a worm-related prank played on you.<\/p>\n

It does make sense, from a psychological standpoint. Human minds have been trained to avoid things associated with death or disease, lest we contract it ourselves.<\/p>\n

This brings back a memory of the kindergarten Halloween party, where my classmates\u2019 moms put together a table of yucky things. Our little five-year-old eyes were blindfolded and our hands were subjected to all sorts of interesting materials. Baby carrots were fingers. Peeled grapes were eyeballs. And a big bowl of cooked, cold spaghetti was worms. My classmates squealed in disgust but I stood there, jaw dropping, wriggling my hands in the pasta. It was the coolest thing I\u2019d ever felt; my teacher had to usher me along in line so the other kids could feel too. I was enthralled, but everyone else was disgusted and I didn\u2019t understand why.<\/p>\n

Well, anyway, in addition to a psychological distaste, maybe worms creep us out because they\u2019re so different<\/i>. According to NatureWatch, a Canadian conservation network, earthworms lack a lung system, respiring through their skin. They\u2019re in the scientific phylum Annelids<\/i> (along with leeches), which means they\u2019re segmented and they crawl using muscles that encircle their bodies to kind of shove them along, like slimy Slinkies. These muscles are covered in microscopic bristles called setae<\/i>.<\/p>\n

But the weirdness doesn\u2019t stop there. According to the USDA, earthworms can range in size from one inch to two yards. Two yards<\/i>. Can you imagine finding one of those bad boys in your front lawn? Also, as they slink along, they secrete a cementing agent which hardens the soil and makes it easier to glide through it. NatureWatch said in an article that earthworms are blind, deaf and cannot smell or feel things, so they find their way around using a tongue-like apparatus on their hind end called a prostomium. Some worms can even engage in parthenogenesis (or self-reproduction, for non-scientific folks), but not all of them can, despite what those cutting-a-worm-in-half myths might say. And all earthworms are hermaphrodites, having both male and female sexual organs.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a lot of biology there, I know. But really, can humans get any more different from the common earthworm? Aside from the fact that we\u2019re both in the animal kingdom, we\u2019re fleshy and we occasionally do stupid things like throwing ourselves on sidewalks, we really have nothing in common with our friends, the Annelids<\/i>. While their talents are indeed unusual, I don\u2019t see the physical differences in worms as scary, but as fascinating.<\/p>\n

Another way the worms have been relegated to the \u201ccreepy\u201d realm is through the bare bones of the word. In Etymonline, \u201cworm\u201d is from Old English wyrm<\/i>, which referred to a serpent or dragon – two things many people seemed concerned about back in the day. The word also described a cowardly, weak, pitiful person. Literature provides us with many negative references to our friendly, squirmy, soil-enhancing pal. There\u2019s Jormangund, the worm-serpent child of Loki, in Norse mythology. He is described in particularly dreadful detail in Padraic Colum\u2019s The Children of Odin<\/i>. Each of Loki\u2019s children had a \u201cgreed\u201d that dominated their existence. Jormangund\u2019s greed was \u201cslow destruction.\u201d Well, that\u2019s enough to make Thor decide he doesn\u2019t like the worm, and he casts Jormangund to the depths of the ocean. But he grows larger and larger there, until he eventually is powerful enough to encircle the world in evil. From there, Jormangund gained the snappy title of the Midgard Serpent and was highly feared. We have a more grounded version of the worm in Act 4, Scene 3 of Shakespeare\u2019s Hamlet<\/i>: \u201cA man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.\u201d In other words, guess what? We\u2019re all going to die and it really doesn\u2019t matter if you\u2019re rich or poor because we all taste the same to the nasty things that eat us when we\u2019re gone.<\/p>\n

So we\u2019re reminded of the humble worm and the dirty work he does, and it almost creates a sense of inferiority in humans. It reminds us that we\u2019re all mortal, whether we like it or not.<\/p>\n

But this also shows us how hardworking these little guys are. Unfortunately for them, their work is done underground, out of our sight, where it is less understood. They\u2019re the good Samaritans, the anonymous donors of the animal world, doing their work under cover of darkness. One of the ways earthworms benefit the soil is by burrowing in the dirt. That allows for better water infiltration in the soil. Better infiltration rates mean that plants can access water more easily, and the creation of soil pores prevent the dirt from washing away in heavy rainfall because the water has somewhere to seep in. Earthworms also play a leading role in nutrient cycling, especially nitrogen. According to the USDA, they increase microbial activity in the soil because the dead organics they eat become absolutely laden with microorganisms, which they then release back into the dirt after digestion. And more microbes mean more places for nutrients to cycle around. Worms also help stabilize soil structure (remember that cementing agent they ooze?). And while you don\u2019t need <\/i>to have worms to have a healthy patch of soil, they are a pretty good sign.<\/p>\n

And all this soil-mixing, nutrient-cycling business points to yet another way the worms help us out. Behold:<\/p>\n

Vermicomposting.<\/p>\n

It is described by Mother Earth News as an \u201cefficient and odorless\u201d way to create a rich, helpful fertilizer for soil. The basic premise of vermicompost is to keep a bin full of dirt. Throw in some fruit and vegetable scraps, leaves, and\/or whole wheat products. Add a handful of worms and – presto! They take care of it. When they plow through all the junk you\u2019ve tossed in there, they produce worm castings (read: poop), which contain \u201c100 times as many beneficial bacteria and fungi than what is found in the surrounding soil,\u201d according to Mother Earth News. Worm poop also contains vital elements like calcium, phosphorous, magnesium, potassium and some B vitamins, all of which are good for plants.<\/p>\n

And for us.<\/p>\n

Tack on another added bonus – water conservation. According to Sharon Lovejoy, author of A Blessing of Toads<\/i>, \u201cIt takes at least eight gallons of water to rinse a pound of kitchen scraps through a garbage disposal.\u201d Worms could plow through that same pound of kitchen scraps in no time, with no water wasted.<\/p>\n

Also, I might add from personal experience, vermicomposting is not as gross as it may sound. Upon stepping down the stairs to witness my first bin in a friend\u2019s basement, I was a bit queasy about what it may look like. I pictured a wriggling mass of slimy rotten-food stench, but when we got down there it was anything but. Before me was a bin full of rich, dark dirt\u2014like nothing you\u2019d go dig up out of the ground naturally\u2014and a few busybodies weaving in and out of the clumps of food that remained, slow and dreamlike. Best of all, my nose could not detect anything even mildly unpleasant. It just smelled like dirt, like something that could create life out of detritus.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s the miracle of the earthworm, after all.<\/p>\n

Earthworms make healthy soil out of dead stuff. Healthy soil grows food. Food aids in human survival (and general happiness). It doesn\u2019t seem that hard. Not to me, anyway. The more worms, the better.<\/p>\n

And perhaps the most important reason I save the worms is that I was taught to. That\u2019s just how I was raised. I learned this lesson one rainy night coming back from town with my mom, when I was about eight or so. There was movement in the road up ahead as we crested the last hill before our driveway, which cuts right over a wetland. The road seemed to be squirming. The rain was absolutely torrential, so I thought it might have been the downpour that caused the asphalt to shimmer and wriggle. But as we got closer, my mom gasped and hit the brakes. There were dozens and dozens of frogs and snakes (and probably worms as well) in the middle of the road. Just having a party, hopping and writhing around. We don\u2019t know why they were out there – maybe the rain is mating time for them too – but my mom immediately put the car in park. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Right there in the middle of the road.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to save them,\u201d she said, her voice resolute, putting her coat on like a warrior\u2019s armor.<\/p>\n

And so we leapt out into the rain and collected or chased as many frogs and snakes from the road as we could. I peered through the downpour, the car\u2019s yellow hazard lights illuminating the night, as I tried to fit more than one frog in my tiny palms before toddling over to the edge of the asphalt to set them in the weeds.<\/p>\n

Only when the last frog and snake were cleared from the road did we proceed. My mom ordered me to get in the car as fast as I could, jammed the ignition key forward, and stomped on the gas to get to our driveway before all the creatures inevitably returned to their road-party.<\/p>\n

That was the night my impressionable little mind scrawled \u201creverence for life\u201d in its book of principles. My mom taught me then, that, even if it means being inconvenienced for a few minutes, you do what you can. You go out of your way for the small things that cannot save themselves. Sure, it would have been easier, faster and drier to punch the gas and run over a few frogs and snakes to get to the driveway. Sure, it would be quicker to just walk by a worm on the sidewalk while going to class (plus I\u2019d get fewer stares from people). But you help out, God damn it, if you can. You watch out for the little guys, especially<\/i> if they plow through dead stuff to help make your food.<\/p>\n

So I resume my promenade to class, reminded of why I risk the dirty looks of strangers to save my friends from the sidewalks. Not only do I save them because they\u2019re interesting and benefit me as a human being, but they deserve to be here as much as I do. Some days, when there seem to be hundreds of them tossed on the cement, it\u2019s a labor of love. But I just can\u2019t stand the thought of seeing a little, shriveled worm fruit-roll-up on the sidewalk the next day. So I do what I can. I stand up taller, wiping my friend\u2019s setae-<\/i>slime on my jeans, satisfied with my good deed. There\u2019s a girl parked on a bench nearby, glaring at me with furrowed brows, wide eyes and an upturned mouth.<\/p>\n

I smile at her. I don\u2019t even whip out my hand sanitizer.<\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

Mackenzie Myers is a creative writing major at Northern Michigan University. She enjoys a good cup of tea, being in the woods, and is a Capricorn. Her work has appeared in Traverse<\/i>, Husk, <\/i>and in an earlier edition of Gadfly Online<\/i>. When she graduates and transcends her food service career, she hopes to be a publisher and novelist.<\/p>\n

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Here I am walking to class, bending over in my raincoat and big clunky Wellingtons, trying to balance my umbrella and my massive backpack while picking up a worm. It squirms out of my hands, like it\u2019s trying to evade my rescue, and I feel like a cop who talks a suicidal man down from a bridge.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d I whisper, \u201cI can\u2019t let you die out here. You\u2019re gonna get squashed by a bike tire.\u201d The worm contorts into a shape that finally allows me to grasp it, and I feel its slime against my fingers as I toss it into the grass nearby. I always wonder if it hurts to land in the grass after flying through the air, but I comfort myself by saying it\u2019s probably less painful than being stepped on.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":78,"featured_media":5267,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[218,201,219],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5102"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/78"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5102"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5102\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5344,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5102\/revisions\/5344"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5267"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5102"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5102"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5102"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}