Got Worms?

Day 84: Given the opportunity, most of us collect something, whether it's rocks, stamps, old letters, comic books, antiques, and I'd venture to say that most people have more than one collection. I certainly do. My very first collection began with a single "worm," as I have always called this assortment of worms and caterpillars. In fact, my very first "worm" was the guy in the top hat in the bottom left. My mother gave him to me for my first birthday, with a cactus planted in the hollow in his back. Is it any wonder I have a somewhat prickly nature? It would seem that my destiny was appointed in that first worm. Many of the ceramics in the "Worm Box" are almost as old; I collected at least half a dozen of them before I was old enough for kindergarten. Some have been lost over the years, some replaced, but others gone forever. My foster sister's cat ate one of the tiniest ones. The large character in the lower right was a "house-worming" gift from my husband. You'll see a few birds in the Box, the occasional cat, a couple of sheep, a frog, two dogs I inherited from my uncle Lee, and even a miniature mediaeval harpist less than half an inch tall. However, "worms" dominate the scene. Why worms? I haven't got a clue.

Caterpillars In My Pockets

Day 88: Could my path have been laid before me by my parents who, on the occasion of my first birthday, presented their infant daughter with a planter in the shape of a caterpillar, a cactus growing from the middle of his back? Yes, that's the very item to which I refer, there in the lower right corner of this image. As far back as I remember, collecting ceramic "worms" was one of the joys of childhood. Whenever my folks found one in a shop, they'd buy it and give it to me some time later as a gift. I've lost a few in moves over the years, although I still have quite a few which are almost as old as I am.

"Worms" (as I called them) later became the bane of my mother's existence. She didn't mind so much when I brought home an inchworm, insisting upon keeping it as a pet in a Mason jar, but when tent caterpillar season arrived, it's a wonder she didn't send me out to play stark naked. It was almost a given than when I returned home, any or all of my pockets would be full of wriggling, live caterpillars, dozens of them. I was particularly intrigued by the fact that about 1:100 tent caterpillars was blue instead of orange. Of course I now know that these were two different species, respectively Malacosoma disstria (Forest Tent Caterpillar) and Malacosoma californica (Western Tent Caterpillar), but at the time I simply thought they were worth further study and therefore would spend long hours searching "tents" for specimens. My mother was profoundly unappreciative of my research.

Perhaps it's for the best that as I matured, my passion for natural history became more focused on the subjects of birds and wildflowers, although whenever I spot a "worm" of any sort, I greet it cordially and move it out of harm's way. When the Woolly Bears emerge, I patrol the road in front of my house, shifting them from the pavement into safety. Needless to say, my walks are somewhat shortened by multiple rescues. Woolly Bears are one of the few caterpillars I recognize, but that may change, thanks to a gift from friends of "Life Histories of Cascadia Butterflies." This new field guide covers every...yes, every...species in detail, with photographs of every instar of every caterpillar found in Washington and marginally into British Columbia, Oregon and Idaho. Sounds like I may be coming home with my pockets full of caterpillars again.