Toadie

Today

Engaged in the somewhat Sisyphean process of digging up the roots of our Bamboo yesterday, Wesz dislodged a toad. The toad tried hard to get back into what it clearly perceived as a safe, cool & moist place to relax. Eventually, Wesz eased it onto the edge of his spade and popped it under the Red Cedar, from where it swam across the stream to find (I hope) a more permanent home.

"Paul thinks that toads are such gentlemen" I said to Wesz.

In My Day

My first experience with what I positively knew to be a toad was in Mead Close back in the hot summer of 1989. The weather had been pretty dry for some weeks and I was in the habit of pottering out into the garden in the gloaming. One evening, enjoying the stillness, I suddenly heard rustling. Investigation showed a small toad perched near the wall. I called Paul and the girls. Paul picked up the toad (how does he do that?) and we all crowded to look. It was a very dull brown and very warty.

Having spent much of that summer waging war on slugs, I greeted the toad's presence in the garden warmly. Lizzie named him Telemachus and he became a more or less permanent addition.

Over the years we have seen many toads in the garden. One year our somewhat flighty neighbour knocked on the door. "Can you tell me," she asked breathlessly "Do toads carry their young on their backs?" "Well", I replied "I think they lay spawn like frogs, but the male of the species is much smaller than the female...."

She was horrified and refused to go back into her garden unless the toads were removed. This Paul did, gently lifting up the couple, who were locked in an embrace and didn't seem to notice they were being moved. So they also became welcome guests in our garden.

So, greetings, Mr Toad. Although your habit of pee-ing on the hands of whoever picks you up is far from gentlemanly, in my opinion.