Vermiculture: A hobby with big benefits

Just a few of the denizens of “Wormtown” visited the Warm Springs Garden Club recently, shepherded by Mary Ellen Williams of Ashwood. The Red Wrigglers are easy to care for, and produce castings and “worm tea,” which make excellent compost for house and garden plants. Lettie Danforth of Hot Springs (bending down) took a moment to chat with Williams about her hobby, known as vermiculture. (Recorder photo by Margo Oxendine) WORMTOWN – Wally, the mayor of Wormtown, works his way to the top of the heap and wriggles a hello to curious onlookers. Weezie, chair of the Wormtown Council, is so overcome with the cacophony of the crowd, she faints. A well-meaning, but misguided, EMT waves smelling salts under what might be Weezie’s nose. Alas, this is her fatal undoing.

You will not find Wormtown on any map. And no one is quite certain of the population; the well-fed, well-housed residents of Wormtown are immune to any census. They number at least 15,000; there may well be more.

The Warm Springs Garden Club had a delightful lesson in vermiculture recently. As explained by Mary Ellen Williams of Ashwood, this is “another way to compost, and make a thousand new friends.”

Quite simply, vermiculture is the process of raising worms for worm castings, which are used as compost. Compost is organic waste material that, when spread on soil, will improve it and provide nutrients for plants.

And a word about soil – do not call it dirt! – soil is not dead, but alive; and it is alive because of organic matter. By the way, Williams notes, “Sterilized potting soil is not alive.”

Who knew?

There was much to learn about worms that day. While only the best-behaved denizens of Wormtown were allowed to attend the garden club meeting, they traveled in style – in their own well-appointed, comfy carry-all – a Worm RV, if you will – complete with plenty of healthy snacks.

“Some people even take their worms on vacation with them,” Williams says. Perhaps that is easier than trusting a stranger to care for them properly. “If you must go away, leave them with some damp newspaper, some lettuce, and then go,” Williams suggests.

Worms don’t require a lot of care; yet, it must be done properly, and with a certain fondness. Williams, who has been keeping worms in a “condo” in her basement for about two years, smiles when she speaks of them, and bristles if someone dares to wrinkle her nose at the very idea of raising worms.

“They actually make excellent pets,” she explains. They don’t soil the carpet, they don’t bark, they don’t throw wild parties. They would make an excellent gift for a middle-school student. In fact, Valley Elementary has a worm bin in their science lab.”

Raising worms “is a stress-free hobby, with great benefits,” she will tell you. “For just a little investment, what more could you ask?”

These worms are Red Wrigglers. They’re rather small in stature, not the burly earthworms you might find lurking in the shadows of your backyard garden.

“It’s very important to get the right kind of worms,” Williams says. “These red wrigglers are eisenia fetida. I bought them on the Internet.” If you’re interested, go to www.findworms.com, or www.mastergardening.com.

Williams ordered “about a pound” of worms to start. They came in a rather small package. They cost about $45.

“They arrive stressed from travel,” she notes. “Before they arrive, have everything they need already set up, and be ready to welcome them. Leave them alone for a few days, and then add a little food.

These are communal, composting worms. They like to be together. They love darkness. They will not bite you. Keep them inside, in a basement or heated garage; they prefer a temperature between 50 and 80 degrees, she said.

Williams characterizes the worms as “shy.”

So, what does a worm need to enjoy a fine quality of life? Turns out, much the same that humans do. For starters, they need a bed. That would consist of moist, shredded newspaper, on a base of coir, or coconut fiber. Layer the bed with coir, newspaper, leaves, and then some soil. The shredded paper should be barely “sponge wet,” she notes. “You don’t want to drown your worms.”

What do they like to eat? Bananas, apples, peaches, pears, cantaloupe rinds, crushed eggshells, coffee grounds, tea bags, even a little animal hair. Sounds like the average kitchen after a big summer breakfast. Once settled, a pound of worms can eat about three pounds of food a week.

The food should be room temperature. Do not heat it up for the worms, and do not toss it in straight from the fridge. Worms do not like citrus fruit or onions, Williams warns. There are other no-nos as well. “Never, ever put salt, or anything with salt, oil, dairy or fat, in your worm bin. Do not over-feed the worms. A couple of handfuls every day, or even every other day, will do. Repeat when you see them working on the food.”

Williams finds it fascinating to watch, for instance, the quick work several thousand worms can make of a cantaloupe rind.

How can a keeper tell if things are copacetic in Wormtown? “You get to know your worms,” says Williams. “You learn to recognize how they move around, and you can tell by how fast they are eating.”

One garden club member wondered about overpopulation. This is not a problem in Wormtown, Williams says. “If they get to that point, they simply stop reproducing.” Ah, that the human population worked so efficiently.

So, Wormtown residents are settled in to their new home, they’re eating well, presumably sleeping through the night. Now what?

Time to start working hard, though they’ll hardly know it. The golden product of worm-keeping, you see, is their waste. Call it what you will; ardent hobbyists know it as “castings” and “worm tea.”

“Within six months, you can start harvesting castings,” Williams says. “In summer, you do that every month. Castings are worm manure. It does not smell; you can handle it if you wish to,” she notes, adding that the process “does not smell; if it does, you are doing something wrong.”

Worm tea “is not worm pee,” as one might logically conclude. It is the liquid that comes from the food upon which the worms feast. The castings give it a dark, rich color.

Castings and tea are put on or in the soil – not the leaves – of house and garden plants. “It is not going to hurt any of your plants,” Williams says. “In fact, it is going to help them greatly.”

This past frigid February, Williams put worm tea on some spindly geraniums wintering on an enclosed sun porch. “Within two weeks, they were doing splendidly.”

How does one “harvest” such things as castings and tea? It’s fairly easy, if the Wormtown Maintenance Department has the right equipment. Commercial products for hobbyists include the comfy condos (about $85-$120, depending on luxury level), the basic bedroom suites, the travel trays, and a special bottom tray with a spigot. Simply turn on the spigot, hold your container underneath it, and voila, out comes the tea.

To harvest the castings, it is easiest to have one of those fancy worm condos. Take out the lowest tray, and harvest the castings; the worms will be out for dinner in one of the upper echelons of trays. Put the castings in a pail; they will dry out, and you’ll be ready to feed your house and garden plants.

“Keep it as simple as possible,” is some of Williams’ best advice. “You don’t have to buy a fancy worm condo. You can use an opaque plastic bin, about 14 to 25 gallons, with many air holes drilled in the lid. These worms need air.”

The garden club kept a keen interest during the worm program, and seemed delighted. They crowded around the Wormtown RV after the show, some almost cooing over the worms. Questions were rife, and notebooks were handy. Williams bestowed small jars of worm tea and packets of castings to anyone who asked.

Afterward, the ladies gathered in the Gristmill dining room for lunch, with a tasty salad as the main course. The worms would have enjoyed it.