Well, I just harvested my first batch of grub compost, and it wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared, but there was quite a scene between me and some black soldier flies.
Here’s how it went down. I had my grub/compost bucket, and I also had a second, empty bucket. The plan was to transfer the contents over so that I might gain access to the gooey layer of compost, which ostensibly lay at the bottom of the grub bucket. Or so I hoped.
The transfer went well. And I was delighted by the quality of the compost material. Now, as I expected, I ended up with a great mass of grubs on top, but I knew that I just had to wait for their natural dislike of sunlight to force them downward.
That, too, worked like a charm. They tunneled down, and I skimmed off a layer of compost until I reached grubs, then they dug down further, and I skimmed off some more compost. All according to plan.
I had thought it all through beforehand, but I hadn’t counted on the little grubs’ keepers, and today I found out why black soldier flies are called soldier flies. Because they will die for the cause. And they mean business.
They took the transfer from bucket to bucket surprisingly well. Or maybe they were just caught off guard. But when I started actually removing compost, even though there were no grubs in it, the flies went ballistic, and I swear they called in reinforcements.
It’s lucky for me that they don’t have mouths, or I’d be one sorry customer, bitten all over. But since they couldn’t bite me, they took to swarming me, buzzing loudly around my head, and, get this, dive bombing me.
Those little kamikaze freaks actually hurled themselves at me as hard as they could over and over again, trying to get me to back off their babies. And finally I did, but not before I’d harvested at least two pounds of thick, black compost material, which I promptly spread around my plants.
Phew. I’m glad that’s over. The flies have settled down, and everything’s calm again. At least until next time.