“Why would you eat something worms won’t eat?”
That was the question posed to a group of middle school students after a week-long experiment in an 8-foot-long worm box. The setup was simple: half the box was stocked with real food—an apple, a banana, beef, boiled eggs, and fresh green beans. The other half? A collection of processed snacks—Twizzlers, gummy bears, Oreo cookies, Velveeta squeezable cheese, and Doritos.
Then, they waited.
A week later, the students lifted the lid, expecting to find their snacks transformed into rich compost. Instead, they pulled out perfectly intact Twizzlers, gummy bears, Velveeta cheese, and Oreos. Meanwhile, the real food had vanished—devoured by the worms, broken down into nutrients that would enrich the soil.
The lesson was immediate. Worms, nature’s ultimate recyclers, had rejected the processed snacks entirely. Meanwhile, the real food had disappeared, cycling back into the ecosystem as nourishment. And if worms won’t eat it, what does that say about its ability to nourish us?
Real food is alive. It breaks down, nourishes, and cycles through ecosystems. Processed food, on the other hand, is often so far removed from its natural origins that even decomposers don’t recognize it as food. This isn’t just about worms—it’s about human health, soil health, and the way food fits into the larger ecological system.
The microbes that break down food in the soil aren’t so different from the ones in our digestive system. When we eat nutrient-dense, whole foods, we support a thriving gut microbiome. When we rely on processed foods, we disrupt that balance. Just like in the worm box, ultra-processed snacks don’t break down easily. Many contain preservatives, artificial ingredients, and stabilizers designed to extend shelf life—often at the expense of digestibility and nutrition.
Unlike industrial agriculture, which treats food production as a linear process (grow, harvest, process, consume, discard), regenerative farming keeps nutrients cycling through the ecosystem. It builds soil fertility through composting, cover crops, and rotational grazing. It uses deep bedding systems to compost manure in place, rather than hauling waste off-farm. It manages moisture naturally with carbon-rich materials like wood shavings and straw. Even animal losses can return to the land through composting, ensuring that nothing is wasted.
When food is grown this way, it remains part of the natural cycle—feeding the soil, supporting biodiversity, and nourishing people in a way that aligns with nature’s rhythms. The fact that worms refused to eat processed food isn’t surprising. Industrial food production prioritizes shelf stability, convenience, and profit over nutrition and ecological integrity.
Many processed foods contain preservatives that prevent decomposition, artificial flavors and colors that make food more appealing but don’t add nutritional value, synthetic stabilizers that alter texture and extend shelf life, and highly refined ingredients that strip away fiber, vitamins, and minerals. These additives make food last longer on store shelves—but they also make it harder for microbes, worms, and even our own digestive systems to process.
This simple experiment left a lasting impression on the students, but its implications extend far beyond the classroom. It raises important questions about how we define food, what we choose to eat, and how those choices impact both our health and the environment.
For farmers, educators, and parents alike, the lesson is clear: food should be recognizable to nature. If worms won’t eat it, maybe we shouldn’t either. Because in the end, the best food isn’t just edible—it’s alive, nourishing, and part of a cycle that sustains life.
