Member-only story
My Chaos Theory Behind Relocating Worms
The little things might have the biggest ripple effects
This is an example of what you’ll find in your inbox every Friday morning when you sign up for my free newsletter, Curious Adventure. I hope you enjoy it.
If you don’t already know, I have a seven-year-old fur child named Albert. He’s an opinionated Lhasa Apso, overly spoiled, and enormously loved. (I included a pic of him at the end) Yesterday, I took him for a walk. At one point, my earbuds pumped music into my skull and my gaze lingered on a crow amongst bare branches in a tree up ahead while Albert sniffed the millionth tree/bush/rock.
Then, for no reason at all, I happened to look down at the sidewalk. As soon as I did, I noticed a worm in the middle of the concrete path still wet from the rain. The worm was flailing about trying to get closer to an edge with grass without hurting its tiny body against the jagged shards of rock. Terrified of being burned alive by the sun hiding behind the clouds. Exposed as brunch to birds of prey. At least, that’s the story in my mind when I noticed it.
I bent down, gently picked it up, and tossed it into the grass. I felt at ease knowing the worm could bury into the dirt. Maybe it would travel under the sidewalk next time.
