A little after 1 pm last Sunday we made the gruesome discovery, and a Slack message rang out across the DailyUV world.
“Worm escape!! Little desiccated worm bodies on the floor!!”
Over the weekend, the wriggling residents of our composting worm farm mutinied. Dozens of them fled—for what? Moister pastures? Was it the constant train whistles or construction racket here in WRJ that pushed them over the edge?
If worms could talk.
Worm that gave its life for a cause unknown.
What’s with the composting worm farm, anyway, you ask?
In many offices you’ll find dogs curled up under desks. And sometimes a coworker wants to, you know, bring his worms to work.
Ben Sheehan, a.k.a. Farmer Ben, is our wormkeeper, and he swears by their benefits. Apparently worm farms can handle a much larger variety of food scraps than your conventional composter.
Epicenter of the worm rebellion.
Ben’s been feeding his worms apple cores, banana peels, bread crusts, dead-headed plants, shredded credit card offers, shredded tax bills, shredded parking tickets—you name it! Ben’s shreds anything and everything and feeds it to his worms. (Please don’t investigate Ben. We need him! Because when he's not snacking, or feeding snack leftovers to his worms, he's busy fixing broken features on DailyUV.
And the farm doesn’t reek! It smells like fresh earth. You hardly know it’s there, really, until they go all hari-kari on the floor.
Fortunately, the worm rebellion appears to have subsided—for now. We'll keep you posted. Can you help us figure out what happened, though? The worms still aren’t talking.