Waiting for the worms...

...is a phrase that has a whole new meaning for me now. A few years back I saw a doco about research into the ability of certain parasites to help those with chronic allergies. The little critters release chemicals that suppress the immune system.

Not for altruistic purposes, obviously. They are called parasites for a reason. They want to hide inside you, and do sneaky blood sucking things without your body knowing what mischief they are making.

Sounds a bit icky, doesn't it. I think the activities and agendas of internal parasites are enough to make most people squirm (alert: this post is gonna get a whole lot worse from this point forward--painful puns and appalling attempts at alliteration abound), but researchers believe that infection with Necator americanus, a.k.a. the humble hookworm, can be an advantage for atopic folk.

Being someone who adores nature, but is highly allergic to most of its offerings, I'm game/desperate enough to give it a go. A sneezeless spring sounds surreal. Imagine how many more bug photos I could take if I didn't have to keep putting my camera down to blow my nose. Kinda hard to even just hold the camera still when a nasal convulsion is pending. My camera does not appear to be waterproof.

In summary, I want to get my hooks into some worms, so they can get their hooks into me.

Not as easy as it sounds, however. My cynical jaded self assures me that parasites are abundant in this world, but I've been told that the species I require is rare this far south. Too cold for them. Typical.

I have made inquiries further up country, but no luck there. The conversation I had with one laboratory terminated abruptly as soon as the question, "why do you want to buy worm eggs?" surfaced. Oh well.

Sourcing the wrigglers myself from overseas, field trip style, like this guy did, doesn't look very promising either. Air fares to Africa are not cheap. And my passport expired ages ago.

I also suspect that getting back into the country with my cargo could prove challenging. If I had one of my laughing fits while waiting in the queue at customs, how suspicious would that make me look. I may be instructed to step aside--and share the joke.

As aforementioned, I don't need a reason to giggle, not a legitimate one at least. The jet lag alone would be enough to set me off. I'm not sure the customs officers would understand this personality quirk.

If they asked me if I was concealing anything internally I would probably hesitate to say no, not because I'm a drug smuggler (because I'm not), but because I'm unsure if one has to declare intestinal parasites. Hookworms are technically a living organism, a foreign one, and our bio security laws are quite strict, with good reason. Economy dependent on agriculture and all that.

They might request that I state the purpose of my trip to Africa. Not hard to imagine the looks on their faces. And if I admitted beforehand on the declaration form that I had some worms with me, they might want to know which bag they are in...

But of course, I would be too busy laughing to form coherent sentences anyway...

I have doubts about the postal service offering a cheaper/safer alternative. Those bio security laws again. No doubt they forbid the direct importation of parasites. And of course, I would have to find an international worm dealer first.

I guess that leaves only one option--harvest some homegrown ones. I shall have to relocate to the other end of the country, preferably to an abode that is near a park, so I can spy on doggies out for walkies. Snoop for poop to scoop.

There might be repercussions, of course, if someone reports my suspicious/weird behaviour. Would the authorities believe my reason for collecting dog doo? Or would they assume I was planning to launch turds at someone?

I can't help but wonder if uplifting poo is one of those grey areas--legally speaking, I mean. Allow me to explain myself...

If I put my rubbish out on rubbish day, it's because it's crap I want to get rid of, but if someone other than the rubbish peeps came and took it away, like a stalker, or a private investigator, then I would not be impressed.

Some dog masters might feel the same, especially if they knew why I wanted it. They might expect remuneration. I may have to pay for poo. 

I confess I find that mildly amusing. I can see the headlines already; "feces theft sparks shit storm," or "stool stealer in deep doo doo."

And of course, it's possible the dogs themselves may object to me coveting their turds. I probably wouldn't stalk pit bulls. Or Pomeranians.

There would be technical issues to consider as well. No doubt costly ones. I'd need a microscope and some textbooks with very accurate pictures of Necator americanus. Performing a positive ID would be paramount.

I'd also need gloves, tweezers and preferably a gas mask... and a flat with a private courtyard where the neighbours can't see--or smell--what I'm doing. One with a bit of soil where I can dig a hole to...you know...bury the bits I don't want to keep...

Uh oh. Getting complicated, again, isn't it...

It's not just the potential health benefits that intrigue me. If everything went according to plan, the worms could generate an income for their host. All I'd have to do is keep harvesting their offspring. I just wouldn't need to forage through dog doo anymore, if you get my drift...

Not  a pleasant process admittedly, but hey, if it helped my allergic disposition then I would want to share the benefits, spread the word...and spread the worms...

And if we put the ick factor aside for a moment, it is the perfect cottage industry, really. Low overheads. No "product" storage costs. Work from home. Portable manufacturing plant/incubator that doesn't need to be plugged into anything (apart from the internet for checking emails and blog stats every now and then.)

Self-sufficient livestock/employees too, very little husbandry required. No need for training programmes either. Their job description is inbuilt. They just do what comes naturally. And I doubt they need sick days. Not sure what the ACC levies would be like...

Sounds suspiciously symbiotic to me.

Plus I like the idea of calling myself a worm farmer. Intensive farming practices are usually incompatible with my world view, but this is one instance where I think it would be okay. Hookworms thrive in a small confined environment. Sunlight is not their friend.

Would make an interesting conversation starter when that, "And what do you do?" question surfaces. Guess it could be a conversation killer also, depending on the disposition of the person doing the asking.

Oh wait...a name for my new enterprise just popped into my head--Book-a-worm.com. I wonder if that url is already taken... I could put a flyer promoting my ebooks in with each egg order, letting my customers know that I'm not just a farmer, but a writer as well......I do like word play...

Guess I'd have to actually publish some of my books first though...darn...I guess I could get busy with that while I'm...you know...waiting for the worms...

I reckon worm farming has the added bonus of also being a patriotic thing to do. Agriculture is our main industry here in little ole NZ. I'd like to do my bit for the economy.

Who knows, maybe in the future instead of being renowned for our surplus of sheep, people will say, "oh yeah, NZ...that's the little country that's crawling with parasites." There's more to us than sheeps, peeps.

If you're wondering why in a post about worms, there are only photos of plants and bugs that are not worms, it's because I don't have any pictures of wrigglers to show you. Yet. And I thought that if talk of worms makes you squirm, you could just ignore my waffle and look at the pictures instead.

Okay, so I must remind myself that parasites are no laughing matter. They're a major health issue for many people around the world. Let's not pretend otherwise.

Some schools of thought suggest that worms make allergy problems worse. Once upon a time I did look into doing a cleanse of the herbal variety, as you do, in case any little lurkers were residing within.

This lead to a very uncomfortable conversation with a woman in a health food shop. I wanted to understand how the concoction she recommended actually worked. She said it didn't kill the worms, it just made them sick...so they would want to leave...kinda like giving them a hangover...

An awkward silence followed.

I wanted soooo much to ask her to elaborate, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't transform my disturbing thoughts into words. The look on her face, and the carefully positioned pauses in her sentence, clearly indicated that she didn't want me to ask...

I didn't go ahead with the cleanse, btw. Those unanswered questions still bother me though. You don't mind if I them ask out loud, here, in the privacy of my own blog, do you? Be honest with yourself, you need clarification too, don't you...

We know the herbs make the woozy worms want out...but...well...we need a little bit more information than that...like, you know, when....as in, when do they exit the building? When you are ready to open the gates, so to speak...or do they run to their own schedule? Taking advantage of that element of surprise?

Not that worms exactly run, of course, I guess it would be more of a wriggle...which sounds even worse, doesn't it...

I'm afraid I have a thirst for even more details. Do they evacuate one by one, each worm adopting the guise of the lone prisoner who burrows to freedom through the prison sewers, (oh I sooo love that movie, although I may have just permanently soiled my memory of it, oh dear), or is it more the shit hitting the fan scenario, the equivalent of a prison riot, where the rebels use brute force and homemade weapons to break through the barricades?

Are these metaphors working for you? Have I gone too far?

Would you believe it's actually against my religion to resort to toilet humour. Thou shalt not make poo jokes. What have I done... I must repent... If only a wormhole would open up right about now so I could travel back in time and resist the temptation to hit the publish button...