The Worm Ranch

Karin von Blixen may have had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills but Rosalind Swanton and I had a worm ranch on the front lawn of 21 Lingard Avenue.
We were ten and nine respectively and played together every day after school and on weekends if we weren't being hauled off on parental expeditions. I was a class ahead of Rosalind in school so could not be seen with one of the juniors or my reputation in the schoolyard would have been shot. After hours, away from the tyranny of the playground one could hang where one pleased and for a few years we were the best of buds.
One spring day we decided we would build a ranch in a large white tin basin. We were going for ants at first but the buggars wouldn't stay home and bit if you picked them up. That's when we felt worms were the answer. Slow, gentle and very forgiving of being rehoused.The ranch came along nicely. I gathered worms and Rosalind dug some soil from her Mum's flower beds. Mum was not asked. I was good with worms. I could pick them up no problem. Lots of people are squeamish about worms. I chased a classmate named David through Wexford Woods with a huge worm in my hand.He was very upset about that worm. I was not a nice child.
The worm ranch went on for days. The worms had water and grass and the best flower bed soil. We dug them out every other day to see how they were coming along. They slept at night in Rosalind's basement. Uncle Bill and Auntie Phyllis were living in ours and nice as they were would probably not have cared to share with the worms.
We kept an eagle eye out for robins that seemed keen on the worms when they were being left in peace in their tin tub taking the air.Everything was going along fine with the ranch when disaster struck in the form of Kyle McKay.
Kyle was an eight year old ripsnorter who lived further down the street and had a bit of a reputation as a naughty boy. We were not close. He came by one day as we were out on the front lawn crooning over the worms and digging them out for some fresh air. He leaned over to see what was in the basin. People often did. Depending how they felt about worms they would stay for a display or beat a hasty retreat. Kyle did neither. He stood up and kicked the basin flying. Our ranch!Our worms!
While Rosalind was trying to find our lost livestock I shot off after Kyle who was beetling home as fast as his little legs could carry him. I grabbed him just as he was opening his side door, spun him around and socked him in the jaw. I am still astounded today that I did that. A response to cruelty to animals I guess. He responded with a double punch to my guts. Bent like a hair pin I staggered home and I vaguely remember the various mothers getting nasty with each other. I was at risk of never having children it seemed as punching girls in the guts was a no-no. I should have kept my hands to myself as well even though Kyle was the instigator. After all it was only a few worms and boys will be boys. Mrs. Swanton got into it over the dirt all over her front lawn. No-one was happy except the worms.
I was so steamed over the boys will be boys injustice that I took to sitting in the willow for a while reading and being sour about the world.
Rosalind and I took up a game called flight deck played with Mrs. Swantons' tulips.That came to an abrupt end when the tulips kept snapping and Mrs. Swanton found out. The worms were more fun.