A worm's tale

At the end of the path, a worm was working their way from the soil to the no-worm's-land of concrete.

Closer inspection: what's that blob on his head?

I thought it was a wound. So I put the worm on some soil in the hope that they could bury themself and hide.

They curled up and didn't go to ground.

Later, I saw the worm's decapitated corpse.

Meanwhile, Mrs B was at the dried mealworms.

She picked them up, threw them in the air and tried to catch them. This was a successful attempt....

But often she seemed to miss. Hard work when you have no hands.