8:59 p.m. - Saturday, May. 29, 2010
From the time I was born until I turned five I lived with my parents in a tiny old frame house among the fertile farms of northern Utah. We had a front lawn that was just crawliní (so to speak) with huge night-crawlers. To help meet expenses, my dad kept a big tub full of worms and a sign for letting fishermen know we had bait for sale. The way my father kept that tub full involved a contraption comprised of two metal probes and a wire that could be plugged into an electric outlet. Whenever it rained, my dad would insert those probes into the ground and then plug them in. Like magic, hundreds of worms would shoot up out of the ground and lie writhing on the surface. My job, once that had occurred was to run around the lawn with a little pail, picking up worms. It was kind of fun, except that whenever I got too close to one of the probes, I would get a painful shock if I touched a worm. I think I've said this before... Iím not sure my folks were careful with me.
I live in Biloxi now. Iím not sure why, but there donít seem to be a lot of night-crawlers in my lawn. Maybe it's too sandy. So anyway, getting night-crawlers from my own yard was out of the question. Furthermore, I donít see night-crawlers in the bait shops either. People seem to prefer those red wigglers. But not to worry; an internet search found oodles of night-crawlers for sale online.
So I fixed up a big plastic tote, filled it with peat moss, and ordered sixty dollars worth of Louisiana night-crawlers to keep for bait.
When they arrived, I made sure their bed was just the right amount of dampness. I added some coffee grounds...I had this idea hat worms like coffee grounds... and some dog chow, just in case they were mormon worms. I checked on them every day. They seemed fine. So,, after a couple of weeks, I was a bit dumbfounded to discover not one single worm in the bin. Even more dumbfounding was the fact that there was not even a little worm carcass.
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