Earthworm Day

[Having been inspired by my daughters-in-law, Sarah, Michelle, and Caitlin, I vow to blog on this space created for Reed and I by my son Ian.]

It has been raining cats and dogs here this whole week.  And I guess it's raining earthworms, too.  Yesterday I had two opportunities to contemplate earthworms---Where do they come from?  What are they thinking?  No, really, What are they thinking?  Do they even have brains?  Because from what I saw yesterday I conclude they do not.  Or, just maybe, the thing to learn is that not only do they have brains, but also a sense of adventure.  

The dogs and I have been on Rainy Day Schedule, which means we are in the house together all day working on our special projects.  In the afternoon yesterday I took them outside to feed them, and in their dog dishes and water bowl I found a bunch of earthworms swimming.  Well, maybe they weren't swimming but were merely struggling  for survival.  Do earthworms breathe?  Were they trying to get out or enjoying some recreation?  It seemed to me they were trying to get out, so I helped them.  Also, I didn't want the dogs to eat them.  

But that made me wonder, seriously, how they got in there---why they got in there.  Did they fall from the sky?  The patio would be covered with worms, unless these ones had parachuted and landed in the bowls.  No evidence of tiny parachutes.  Surely they were not trying to find water, because where they live (under the lawn, I presume) there is presently a lot of water.  So, they must have been flushed out of their underground homes by too much water.  If so, why did they head straight for the water bowls?  Hmmm.  I think I just figured it out.  They could not see into the water bowls to know they were death pools---they thought (if they have brains) they were heading for higher ground, a shiny silver mountain slope that was their only hope.  They reached the top and then...how sad.  I am so glad I arrived in time.

Later, when I crossed my bedroom to turn off the light I noticed a piece of brown yarn in the middle of my white carpet.  I didn't have my glasses on. I reached down to pick it up, but just in the nick of time I noticed it move slightly.  Yechhh.  My first instinct was to be grossed out that an earthworm was in the middle of my bedroom.  Then I got a grip on my emotions and reached for a newspaper to transport the worm outside, the whole time revisiting my earlier ponderings on earthworms.  How did it get in my bedroom?  Why did it come there?  Was it the same worm I had rescued earlier?  Man, such an adventuresome worm!  Sorry, but you cannot stay, I thought to myself as I tried to get it onto the newspaper. It was not as easy as one might think.

It is my understanding that when a worm is cut in half it will grow back into two worms.  Is that true? I hope so.  Because somewhere in our backyard there are two worms thinking, "I have been where no worm has been."  (Do worms have brains?)