So the team, following standards for ethical animal research, next tested

another type of genetically modified worm covered in blisters, which

they hypothesized would disrupt any potential vibrations sensed by the
worm’s skin and prevent the neurons from firing. The sounds blasted,
and the worms remained still. Bingo.

By testing yet more worms and running a suite of advanced genetic

tests, the team ultimately tracked down the molecules in the nervous
system responsible for sensing sound: nicotinic acetylcholine receptors,
a well-studied neurotransmitter found in many animals. The molecules,
found on all parts of the worm’s skin, detect sound waves and signal
their presence to the brain. Worms modified to not have these
molecules didn’t respond to sound.

“We’ve been looking at this molecule the longest we’ve looked at any
neurotransmitter, and nobody else saw what they saw,” says Gal
Haspel, a neuroethologist at the New Jersey Institute of Technology
who was not involved in the research.

Haspel called the research methods impeccable, adding that the team
“really turned over all the stones and figured out exactly what cellular
mechanism is underlying the [behavioral] response.”

But is it “hearing”?
Overall, the experiments showed that C. elegans  can sense and respond
to airborne sound waves using a mechanism that’s both genetically
unique and similar to our own hearing. (See the animal with the
biggest ears on Earth, relative to size.)

But whether the worms were actually hearing is another question.

Some scientists believe that deeper levels of perception, such as
consciousness or connecting sounds to a cognitive map, are necessary
for true “hearing.” To Xu, sensing and responding to airborne sound—
the behavior his study called “auditory sensation”—falls short of
meeting that criterion.
“Perception means you have to process the signals and then inject some
meaning into it,” he says.