The Worms

A couple of weeks ago, we had a significant downpour for much of one day. It was good. Rain in the desert is always welcome.

Unless you are a worm.

I went out into the yard in the early evening, and lo and behold, there were worms crawling onto patio. The adjacent soil had become saturated, and they were escaping the water by ooching up to the drier terrain of the patio. Ordinary worms. But LOTS of them.

It was strange, and somewhat pathetic, to see so many of these tiny eyeless legless critters seeking safety. We knew that if we left them where they were on the patio, we'd find them all dried out from the sun the next day:  worm jerky, as it were. I conferred with Offspring the Second, and we decided that we should put the worms into an available flowerpot that was full of soil and devoid of plants. And so we began collecting them.

We stopped when we reached 163 worms. So. Many. Worms.

I went inside for a bit, and then went out to check on the worms again. There were more. So many more. It was unsettling. They moved with surprising speed, and agility, too -- some made it several inches up on the stucco of the house and the columns by the patio. I started at one side of the patio, collected the worms there, and moved across to the other side, collecting worms as I went. By the time I'd reached the opposite side, I had to begin all over again, for more and more worms appeared. It was almost like a scene from a third-rate horror movie: worm, after worm, after worm. Worm, worm, worm. Worm.

I stopped when I'd reached a total of 356 worms. I was tired and worn out and just couldn't pick up any more. I put the flowerpot safely on top of a bin, and went inside.

It was disheartening. So many worms. I didn't go outside again because I couldn't bear to see more worms that needed help. I even had Beloved Husband take the Tiny Dog outside to pee before we retired for the night, so I would not have to look at the worms.

The next day, the rain had ceased, and so we ventured back outside. Sadly, a small portion of the worms had tried to escape the flowerpot: there were some dried worm carcasses stuck upon the bin on which the pot stood. Alas. WORMS, I TRIED TO SAVE YOU. I AM SORRY. There were a few other dead worms sprinkled about the patio as well. There were, however, still a great many live worms in the flowerpot. Worm salvation.

I eventually took the pot to the middle of the yard and turned it onto its side, so the worms could make their way back to the soil. After half a day, I dumped out the remaining worms and dirt from the pot. All that is left in the yard now is a bit of soil on top of the grass. The worms have all gone home.

This whole Worm Episode was oddly distressing. The blind unthinking activity of so many worms. The awful knowledge that no matter what I did, a number of small helpless creatures would die. It was tragic. And terrible.

I don't like to think about it.

It is raining again tonight. Fortunately, though, it is a light rain, and right now, there is only one worm on the patio.

Still, I may ask someone else to take Tiny Dog outside, so I do not have to look at any worms again.