Worms. I have them in abundance.

I divide my time between a bustling inner-city apartment in Sydney, Australia, and a serene property four hours south, previously a farm left to nature since the 1970s.

These places are stark contrasts. One is alive with the city’s hum, while the other resonates with the natural sounds of wildlife, including kingfishers, cicadas, night owls, and the eerie cries of possums. Yet, both locations share a common feature: thriving worm farms. The farm’s setup efficiently processes an entire household’s waste, while the urban version is compact, designed for porch placement, and accessible for anyone.

In the serenity of my farm, I let nature dictate operations while using the land as a tranquil getaway. Conversely, my basement hosts a 4,000-litre worm habitat where waste transforms into nutrient-rich liquids and castings, filtering into surrounding woodlands.

At the farm, I add compost, weeds, and the occasional wildlife carcass—kangaroos or possums—to diversify the worms’ diet. My guiding principle: anything previously alive finds its end in a worm farm.

When I peek into the depths of this decomposition marvel, I’m always astonished at the rapidity of waste reduction. A 50 kg male kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) became practically unnoticeable within a week, entirely gone by the end of the month. My worm farm has become a vibrant ecosystem, home to frogs, spiders, and fly larvae, flourishing in the nutrient-dense humidity of the Daintree rainforest in Australia’s northeast.

After eight years, despite sending copious organic matter to this voracious habitat, it appears only a quarter full. Remarkably, I’ve never detected unpleasant odors, even from the more rank offerings. This is a professional endeavor, overseen by periodic inspections from local authorities.

On installation day in 2018, I ceremonially introduced a small bag of tiger worms (Eisenia fetida), a species known globally for its composting prowess.

According to independent earthworm researcher Robert Blakemore, this species thrives in temperatures ranging from -2°C to 40°C, remarkably capable of surviving the loss of two-thirds of body water and even submersion for up to six months.

Blakemore posits that no other species offers such irreplaceable benefits to humanity, with compost worms effectively processing an equal weight of their own mass daily. It’s no wonder that dead kangaroos vanish in mere weeks.

Everything entering the worm farm gets broken down, its nutrients seeping back into the ancient red gum forest, recycling life itself. I often tell my children, “When I die, place me there,” to join the countless lives absorbed by the soil. For me, heaven is being nourished by the forest. I’d be dismayed to be cremated and stored as anonymous ash.

I have a chocolate border collie, my loyal companion, who follows me like a devoted secret agent. The highest honor I could bestow is for him to be part of the worm farm when that time comes, though my daughter is not thrilled with this fate.

Urban Worm Farming Insights

Since my transition to part-time city living, I’ve arrived with a bag of tiger worms from Wilderness Worm Farm, enriching a small home compost bin nestled in my courtyard.

This miniature worm farm offers a personal and public experience, about 0.5 meters tall, consisting of stackable trash cans that make for easy rotation when full.

In contrast to my country escapade, where worms dwell deep within a massive tank, my urban worms are visibly active, prompting contemplative moments as I observe their fascinating, albeit messy, composting process.

No one enjoys watching sausage made, nor compost turned. However, the sight of writhing worms in my city’s compost is mesmerizing. Should I plunge my hand into the organic mixture, it would resemble a scene from a horror film.

I ensure all vegetable scraps, dog waste, and various organic materials find their way into my city worm farm. However, Blakemore expressed concerns over my informal approach upon reviewing my worm contents.

“Eggshells tend to break down given time, but microwaving them can hasten decomposition,” Blakemore recommends. “Furry items pose similar issues, as do tea bags and labels on fruit, which likely contain plastic.”

He warns that dog feces carry parasitic risks, although worms can often stabilize those parasites.

Despite my contributions, the worms in my urban compost catch up rapidly. Eventually, I switch the layers, transforming the top barrel’s enriched contents into nutrient-rich soil for my garden.

This lively whirlwind of decay serves as a vivid reminder of life’s cyclical nature, as the humble earthworm facilitates recycling and the processing of what was once alive.

Blakemore summarizes well: “Every person should compost. Ignorance and laziness are the only barriers.”

Starting Your Own Worm Farm: Key Considerations

• Commercially available compost worms, particularly the tiger worm (Eisenia fetida), are easily accessible. I’ve gifted “starter” colonies from my compost to friends, leading to rapid population growth in their setups.
• You may be surprised by the amount of waste an insect colony can process, even in compact urban settings. A large professional setup is necessary for handling an entire household’s waste.
• In the city, I store the worm breeding box in the shade, as direct sunlight can be harmful, especially in warmer climates. Surprisingly, there’s minimal odor, despite the theatrical appearance when the lid is opened.
• Items I enjoy composting include unwanted bills and promotional materials (though avoid glossy papers). Watching undesirable items transform into rich soil in a week is immensely satisfying.