I haven't come across any stranded worms lately. I still see dried-out, dead worms now and then, but it's been a long time since I've encountered living worms struggling on the sidewalk.
Which is why I stopped carrying the water-filled syringe. It wasn't by conscious decision -- it just slipped my mind one day, and because that day passed without incident, as did the next day I forgot, I gradually became used to being lazy and it stopped bothering me.
Until today.
This morning I came upon a worm on the sidewalk. It looked dead, but as I walked past it I thought it moved slightly. I turned around and watched, and sure enough, it moved again. It was obviously on the very verge of death. Its skin had turned dark and looked leathery, and when I picked it up it was so dehydrated it didn't even flop.
Full of contrition, I dug a little hole in the soil beside the sidewalk and placed the worm in it, taking care to cover it up well to hide it from birds.
I don't know if being doused with water would have saved that worm. To be truthful, I rather doubt it -- it was probably past that point by the time I found it. Nevertheless, I felt guilty. Maybe water would at least have lessened its suffering a little.
In the afternoon I set out again, carrying the syringe this time. And of course, there were no worms in need of my help.
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