I would have posted a new picture of my bag of worms problem but it has become traumatic enough that I am not going near that tree again. Husband and youngest boy are set to go out to cut the four branches the bags are on and, I hate to say this as it is so cruel, but burn them. The Internet advised stepping on them and that just doesn’t sound much more humane.
So, to decide the time of day when most of them are in their bag and not making a train track too and fro munching the tree, I have made a couple of treks out to the tree to see how active they are.
When I let Irritating Little Chihuahua out the other night before bed, in the dark, I took my trusty flashlight to take a look. I was fully expecting the critters, who are not supposed to like the colder weather, to be all fast asleep tucked in their bag. I wanted to see how full it was.
Here is where I would love to show you a picture but I am so freaked out by these things that I was not going near that tree again. The worms were all out of their nest, making repairs. I only know this because Wikipedia told me that they do that. What I saw was gazillions of wormy things crawling all over the outside of the bag.
Now, I do not mind spiders, or just about any other bug or critter. I’m not a girly-girl screamer. I do not call for other people to smash things for me. And, just about the only thing I smash is the black wasps, and their relatives, who make me swell up and stick a hypodermic needle in my leg. I figure, it’s either them or me and so feel justified in smashing them.
So, the night that I saw these wormy things crawling all over their bag, outside of it, on my tree, I shivered, brought the dog in and went to bed. I do seem to remember thinking to myself, “now that’s a nightmare waiting to happen.” Little did I know.
About 1:00am, middle son arrives home and nearly silently went to bed. I however, woke up, sort of, jumped out of bed, brushing imaginary worms off my arms and looked down at the floor, next to my bed, to hallucinate a bag of worms, complete with worms crawling all over the outside of it. And, excuse my lack of punctuation skills on that sentence but I am not revisiting it to correct it. I let out a yelp. Middle EMT son calls me on the cell phone to check on me. I ask him where he is, having no idea he has returned home. He says he is downstairs. I go back to bed.
- Stay away from the danged tree and it’s bags of worms
- Stay off the Melatonin
- Kill JCountry, youngest son, if he so much as brings one worm in the house or buys a bag of gummy worms, as he has promised to do, and put them beside my bed.
This is all so embarrassing and I may need to seek help for my Eastern Bag/Web/whatever worm fear. Imagine this bag with a bazillion of those freaky little caterpillars crawling all over it in the dark.