Seems lots of folks have lots of time on their hands these days to share with me the many gospel truths they know about annelids. I’m not in the best of all possible moods today. Consequently, I’ve decided, just for shits and giggles, to blow this all out of proportion. Now, let’s be clear. I don’t give a hoot about any of this, but obsessing over worms is harmless and amusing. In the event you missed the post that started the whole worm fracas, it’s here.

This morning, I collected worm specimens. One from each arbitrarily defined location. It wasn’t the best sampling technique, but the NSF isn’t exactly funding my blog so what do I care?

After I got to work, got my coffee, and made an initial identification of my worms, I marched over to the bio lab for secondary conformation from one of those learned types. I love my colleagues – they don’t even question why I wish to know for sure that these specimens are, indeed, Lumbricus rubellus and not Lumbricus terrestris or Helodrilus caliginosus. You know, this was the first time I’ve been back in this particular lab since I graduated. What’s scary is it hasn’t changed much. It was fun. Made me want to dissect something. Or someone, but that’s just a further indicator of my mood.

So, for your dining and dancing enjoyment, here’s a generalized response to what I learned from this week’s silly mail:

I’ve learned that a worm is a worm is a worm.
Nope. There are over 12,000 identified species in the Phylum Annelida. They are devided into three classes, Polychaeta (marine, roughly 8000 species identified), Oligochaeta (primarily earthworms, roughly 3,000 species identified), and Hirudinea (leeches, which are fresh-water critters and therefore distinct from the marine Annelids). Today, we will concern ourselves with Oligochaeta.

I’ve learned that, since a worm is a worm is a worm, and there are millions of them in my yard going down to depths of hundred of feet and growing to lengths of several feet so I shouldn’t worry about them.
Well, for starters, I’m not really that worried. I would, however, be worried if this small worms (average length being way less than even a foot) suddenly grew that big. Beyond that, your numbers are pretty goofy there, particularly since the critters in question like to stay pretty close to the soil surface. There’s quite a horror movie in the scenerios presented to me as the gospel fact though, come to think of it…

I’ve learned that earthworms are native to North America.
Don’t tell them that, most species found in North America they think they were accidentally brought over from Europe.

I’ve learned that all earthworms and grubs are benevolent.
Don’t tell the researchers investigating the potential threats posed by earthworms to both the biodiversity and long-term stability of the hardwood forest ecosystems in the Great Lakes region. And grubs, grubs are nasty things that do lots of damage. And it’s not like I’m poisoning them or something. If I find a grub, I feed it to the birds. I’m not out there hunting them.

I’ve learned that earthworms are immortal.
Um, no, when I squash them with my trowel, they stay squashed. Try this experiment at home: Take a worm, your choice – just pick a worm. Take a trowel (a hammer will do in a pinch). Give the worm a good wack. Observe. Still dead? Keep observing. Still dead? Keep observing. I’ll check in with you again tomorrow, at which point it will still be dead. And it will probably smell bad, too.

I’ve learned that earthworms multiply by being chopped into bits, at which point all the parts grow into new worms.
Don’t tell the worms, you’ll ruin their fun. Although many species are apparently hermaphroditic (including our friend L. rubellus), they seem to think that they need to mate in order to produce eggs. You see, when one annelid loves another annelid verrrry much….Actually, Physiology of Annelids, (ed. P.J. Mill, London: Academic Press, 1978) has a rather fascinating chapter on reproduction. Well, fascinating to me, anyway.
Some annelids can, under optimum circumastances regenerate lost segments – generally this tends to be posterior segments. You know, the tail. This can occur if predators such as birds or moles (who, incidentally, can and do eat three times their weight in worms each day) don’t get them while they’re injured, if they haven’t regenerated often in the past, if they haven’t lost too many segments, if it’s not too cold out, and if they’re one of the 10-30 (estimates very and this seems to be slightly controversial) species that regenerate. Oh yeah, and if they aren’t flattened.

If you’re really that obsessed with worms, I suggest a visit to Another Can of Worms, which is the clearinghouse for Annelid research, hosted by the University of New Orleans.

Personally, I find worms boring. I always preferred spending my time with the insects. I’m not a working biologist, I know very little about annelids in the grand scheme of things. I just have years of biology courses somewhere in my distant past and a generalized irritation with people who think that watching a few nature films when they were in 8th grade makes them Charles Darwin.

I’m tired and you’re being condescending. Sorry.

To keep this annelid-related, I’ll tell you about the Medical Leech Museum in Charleston. (that’s not much of a link, but it has the address). Leeches are loads of fun. I’m tired and so perhaps we’ll talk leeches another day.

I should add one final note for those twitching and fussing: No. This isn’t about you. Unless you sent me a snarky email about worms. Then it is, in fact, about you.