I Needed Bluebirds at My Feeder. Mealworms Help Me Please!
Mealworms for Bluebirds. Errr . . . Guaranteed?
I haven’t seen a bluebird in years. Last week, my brother-in-law, Bernie, emailed me from his beautiful spot on the Damariscotta River in Maine. “We’ve got tons of bluebirds coming to the feeder. Dyan set out some mealworms. They found them, and they’re feasting.”
I wanted bluebirds, those symbols of happiness, spirituality, beauty, porters of fulfillment, and prosperity. Some years ago, Diane bought a bunch of glass bluebirds and gave them as gifts. How popular they were.
“Feasting at our feeder,” was all I needed to hear. Off I went to our local feed store to grab some grubs.
I needed to know something more of, the ‘loveable’ mealworm.
Wiggly, fidgety, cute maybe. “Uhh, some keepum them as pets,” hummed the storekeeper.
“Really? Why would anyone do that?”
“Well, dere low maintenance, easy ta manage, eat Styrofoam, good fa the planet, ya know, and . . . dat’s why you’re here, ta help feed other animals, like bluebirds.”
“Yuh. What if they get out the thing there? I wouldn’t want them crawling around the house. They’re not cats.”
“Aw, C’mon. Don’t bite. They hide. Like unda furniture, in damp spots.”
“Do they reproduce?”
“Sure. But inta beetles who like to get out. Dey will leave. Not to worry. Dey doesn’t bite or sting.” He knew his stuff. “And dere soft, lotta protein. Doez birds luvum.”
“Yuh, sez you.” He smiled as he led me to the mealworm plastic den and opened the lid. There they were. Hundreds of them, soft, golden, creepy crawlers everywhere, hopefully not out or on me. They looked skeevy. “Uh, I’ll skip these. I just want to feed the bluebirds, and these won’t do.”
Uh, yuh, uh, ok, c’mere.” We walked to the refrigerator where, using his thumb and two fingers, he grasped a plastic container with small, frozen, overcrowded dead-uns sitting on what looked like oatmeal(how appropriate). Dormancy delays their metamorphosis. “How’s about dese?
----- Perfect. Or so I thought.
Even though it looks like a worm with its segmented body and squirmy behavior, the mealworm is not a worm but a larva. Its lifecycle comprises four distinct stages (eggs, worms, pupae, beetle). It’s the larval stage of the darkling beetle (Tenebrio molitor).
The photo tells it all.
A mealworm takes approximately 10-12 weeks to go from egg to adult size. The beetle stage is another 8-12 weeks. When doing my research, I felt like I was in the fifth grade again, standing beside the teacher and looking into the fish tank. Or the frogs. Or the butterflies. Remember?
Mealworms thrive in dark, warm places and feed on grains, decomposing plants, and organic matter. Rich in protein and easy to farm, they’re used as pet food, composting agents, bait for fishing, and even human food in some cultures!
I wouldn’t use them on pizza ( Read my cicadas on pizza piece) but they can be a sustainable human food.
OK, well, anyway, back to my tale. I tucked the plastic container and its lid into my jacket pocket and trudged home. When I arrived, I was eager to show Diane. “They had live worms, but that wouldn’t work, so I went for the frozen. Look here.” As I reached into my pocket, I realized that the store guy didn’t know how to fix a lid. (Yes, yes, I know I should have checked).
“Oh my God!” ----- What. ---- The lid had come off in my jacket pocket. After enjoying a warm fuzzy ride home in my winter jacket, they were squirming, eager to do something like get out. I spilled them onto the floor. Still pleased with their cold-to-warm transition, they were still a bit numb and just squirmed. We were easily able to sweep them up.
Down to the washing machine went my jacket, and out came the vacuum followed by a mop and a bucket, We used some trusted descendants of Mr. Clean, the Merry Maids, Breeze, Bold, Spic and Span, and Janitors, Inc. ---- I’m not sure which. Overcleaning we did under carpets, inside cupboards, and under baseboards.
We got ‘em all. With those that we swept into the dustpan, I ventured to the yard, cleaned out a small bird bath, and transferred the mealworms. It was cold. They weren’t squirming. Is redormancy a word? Or a process? Anyway, done and back to the house. The kitchen smelled like citrus, cedar and lavender.
OK, bluebirds, where are you? I’ve been looking out the window for two hours now, and I am about to take my afternoon nap. You'd better not be napping. If you come, I'll treat you to some beetles in the spring.
This morning, I woke to two inches of snow that covered the mealies. Now, it’s raining. When it stops, I’ll resume my mission.
Oh, one other thing. Bernie reminded me that I could go to the local hardware store and pick up a large, inexpensive bag of dead mealworms. “They work just as well,” he chirped. “They’d better,” I double-chirped.
Those harbingers of beauty, love, and spirituality better show, or someone will have to answer for it.
© 2025
Awesome!!
Ed, Bluebird of Happiness. A symbol of hope, love, positivity and renewal. It symbolizes the essence of life and beauty. That should soothe all.