Tag Archives: Mini Beasts

A woodlouse by any other name…

Playing in the garden earlier, the under gardener found one of the biggest woodlice that I’ve seen in a long time. Being only 20 months old, she alerted me to her find by shouting, “Mammy, mammy, a spider! A spider!” Which caused her older cousin to sprint as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

I’ve always had a soft spot for woodlice with their little grey bodies, busy legs and inquisitive feelers, and I tried keeping one as a pet when I was four or five years old. I remember keeping it in one of my little sister’s wet wipe containers, and suspecting that my older sister had killed it because she was afraid of insects when in reality it was probably the chemicals they used in baby wipes in the 1990s.

I think my favourite thing about them though is that there are so many different names for woodlice – almost everyone seems to have grown up calling a woodlouse a different name depending on where they come from. In Gwent where I grew up, we called them granny granchers or granny greys, further down the valley, my friend from Neath called them piggywigs, and my Welsh-speaking friends have called them mochyn y coed (tree pigs) or pryf y lludw (ash worms), while my Irish friend grew up calling them slaters. I was a bit disappointed that my boyfriend just called them woodlice growing up!

Where did you grow up and what names did you call the humble woodlouse?

Worm’s the Word

Last weekend, the under gardener conquered her phobia of earthworms. When I’ve held them wriggling on my hand in the past, she’s tended to whimper and back away, which is funny because she’s happy enough with spiders and flies, but I’ve kept showing them to her and explaining to her that they are my friends and help me with the garden.

Last weekend, I dug over the raised bed and veg patch, which I’ve effectively been using as a giant compost heap for years by digging through garden and vegetable waste, so it’s a worms paradise. I showed one of the bigger ones to the under gardener, and she did her usual whimper and back away so I popped it back on the border and covered it with some leaf litter before going back to digging.

The next thing I knew, I heard a shout of, “Mammy, I gots worm!” and she ran over dangling it in my face. All fear gone.

Now when we do our gardening, I keep a flower-pot on hand with a layer of soil so we can pop the worms that we find so that she can watch them (she sits giggling as they wriggle) and we can return them to their home when we’ve finished planting.

Mini-beasts for the win, it’s time to start building a bug hotel.