Worms Eat My Garbage, But Now What?

Keeping up two worm bins was a great idea in theory due to the amount of kitchen scraps we produce weekly, but the homemade worm bin was always a bit too wet due to the too many holes on top of the lid and because it was plastic. Since I didn't have a good way to drain water from the bin, I'd often use a turkey baster to suck up all the worm tea. Gross.

So, now we are back to one worm bin with stackable layers. Before I could consolidate the bins, I had to empty out one of them and separate the worms from the casings. Oh, if only this was as easy as separating the wheat from the chaff! Using Mary Appelhof's book as a guide, I made several sticky, smelly worm piles and waited. The worms are light sensitive, so the theory is that they will retreat into the piles and I can take some casings off the top and sides. The newly exposed worms will retreat some more, and I take more casings off the top and sides. Repeat again 15 minutes later. Eventually, I should be left with pure worms. Well, the obstinate worms never retreated far enough for me to shave more than a centimeter of casings from the piles, and after a couple of hours, I gave up and tossed most of the contents into the communal worm bin. It felt like a waste of a rare, sunny afternoon.

Now, I'm reading Christopher Shein's permaculture book that mentions rinsing the worms from the casings and collecting the worm tea as an easy casing collection method. This sounds like a better idea, but I guess I have to use screen door mesh? It sounds like an unpleasant experience for the worms, but afterwards I'll reward them with new bedding and more food.

Does anyone out there have a preferred method for separating the worms from their casings?

Expanding the Worm Digs

The flurry of canning activity resulted in tomato skin and seeds that overwhelmed my worm bin. Although I contemplated buying another worm bin, the bins on the market were sporting $100+ price tags, and that seemed like a lot to pay to house creatures that prefer to live in garbage. Plus, since the whole point of this is to be more green, it didn't make sense to me to purchase another hunk of plastic.

I rummaged around the house and found an old plastic storage container with a lid. Perfect! A little (crooked) drill handiwork to make air holes, and I had myself a homemade worm bin that cost nothing but a bit of time, and not much time at that.

Once the lid had holes, in went some cardboard, fruit and vegetable trimmings, and a few scoops of worms. Yes, I made worm lasagna!

Now, in a few weeks, this bin should be established and I can start adding more scraps to it. Done and done!

Startled!

Since I was feeling so clever after amending my neglected compost bin, I decided to tackle the worm bin because it has been hanging around the house 6 years, and during that time, I haven't harvested the casings once. My regular routine was to use the compost tea as a fertilizer for houseplants and the garden, but recently the worm bin's spigot has clogged, so I couldn't even do that. 

I was ignoring the worm bin because I am easily grossed out, and because our bin is plastic, it retains a lot of moisture, which results in worm casing sludge. Being easily grossed out is not a good trait for a gardener. I swear, in the past two months I have had to slaughter so many slugs, snails, leaf miner larvae, and caterpillars that you'd think I'd just chill out and become one with the nature, but my acclimation to all things slimy and disgusting is slow. The boy almost fell over backwards off the garden's retaining wall because I startled him when I began yelling and flapping my hands when I went to grab a bean and instead came into contact with a baby snail. Why do I flap my hands? Do I think I can fly away? Thankfully, I have not encountered any Zombie Bees, because I think I would totally lose it if that happened.

Before lifting each tier of the worm bin, I steeled myself. Tier 1: so far, so good. Tier 2: a little slug action that had to be dealt with, but still good. Tier 3: Ack! (Hand flapping!) Ack! Ack! Ack! Two salamanders (newts? I've been told before what these things are, but I push it out of my brain each time) looked up at me and tried to slip into the sludge. I had to walk away from the bin to stop myself from screaming, and I gave myself a little pep talk. Ok, I can do this. All I need to do is to shovel the sludge into another container to dry it out. These things are more scared of me than I am of them, and it is illogical for me to freak out. This is such a first world problem, suck it up! Breathe!

I shoveled the sludge onto a cardboard box, restored the worm bin with the creepy things securely in place, and the sludge is now drying in the sunniest part of the yard. Surprisingly, the sludge does not smell like it looks. It smells like wet earth, and nothing more. I should probably let the boy know that I've done this so he doesn't step in it on his way into the house since it's not in an obvious place, especially if one is walking up the side of the house to throw away a full dog poop bag at night.

I have to remind myself that I'm doing this for the radishes and the carrots, because I want to grow my own food, and because I'm curious how much work it takes to grow said food. In conjunction with growing veggies, I've joined the Full Belly Farm CSA, the only CSA I've found that can work into our schedule.

I'll offer up the next two photos as palate cleanser for those of you who just endured pictures of worm poop and newts or salamanders and continued to read on. Above is a pissed off Fifty, pissed for obvious reasons, and below is a nectarine cake (inspired by the Tipsy Baker) that looked much better than it tasted due to my substitution of whole wheat flour in place of white flour and over baking it. I've had one slice, and I would've tossed it, but the boy is tackling that thing one slice at a time since he insists that its edible. I think he's trying to use positive reinforcement in order to convince me to bake cake more often.