Summer visitors: bufo woodhousii

Summer in Las Vegas brings a visitor to my backyard, Bufo woodhousii or more commonly known as the Woodhouse’s Toad.  At least that’s the one I think it is.  When we get enough rain, we here at Soul Secret’s Garden grow a crop of toads that seem to spring up from out of the ground and wander…oh wait, that’s right…they do spring up from out of the ground!  Last year it was too dry and we didn’t have toads, or there were so few of them that they escaped the attention of man and beast alike.  This year there aren’t many but there are enough that I will have the dubious pleasure of relocating them from the backyard to where ever I might deem to take them.  Now I’m sure at least one person is at this very moment, reading this saying, “Well, golly gee whiz Ashcove, why do you relocate them?  Won’t they leave the backyard on their own?”  Well, yeah…they do, but we have two dogs and one of them (mine, I have to admit sheepishly) is a total punk ass.  APR or Ash, as he is affectionately known, is a punk…and he will pick on anything and anybody.  The cat, the other dog, the humans, the toads…no one is safe.  He only wants to play, the idiot, but the problem with him playing with the toads is twofold. 



The first reason is he stresses out the toads and because he plays with them a bit roughly, there is a serious case of toad carnage in my domain.  I don’t think he means to kill them, dogs are not natural born killers, but kill them he does.  Some people wouldn’t care whether the toads where killed or not, but I do.  They are an important part of the local ecosystem and should be allowed to follow the pattern that is laid out for their species as dictated by instinct, as naturally as possible.

The second reason is that my dog is a part of my family and toads are poisonous…at least the skin on the bodies of toads is.  It’s not such a big deal if the dog is big…the toad leaves a nasty taste and the dog froths at the mouth like a rapid rabbit…but my dog tips the scales at 19 pounds.  I would rather not risk my dog’s health and possibly life (I really don’t know how poisonous the toad’s are) on the assumption that he’s only stomping on the toads and not trying to eat them. 



So during late summer, I become two governmental agencies…The Backyard Toad Relocation Center and the Center for Preservation of Family Pets.  It’s a tough job but someone has got to do it…pay sucks, but job satisfaction is immense.  Relocation and preservation, it’s almost noble sounding…almost. 



Just this evening, I got the call to relocate a toad.  He was moved from the back to the front yard. Now that’s not a big move for us humans but can you imagine what the toad was thinking… Here I was, just minding my own business, hopping along my migratory route to go breed with all those lovely wart-covered beauties when suddenly…out of nowhere, this insane, four-legged furry maniac attacked me.  It hit me with its left paw, then it hit me with its right paw…I tried to get away...Holy Hopping Mother of God…the damned thing bounces around like a freakin’ frog.  I’m gonna get killed…Ahhhh!!! Now here’s where I come in.  I see Ash bouncing around like a bunny on crack and I know…there’s a toad over there.  He likes to hop with them and then step on them…I don’t know why, sigh. I chased Ash away and pick up the toad, a very scared toad; that just has to be thinking…  Oh Great Leaping Gods of All Toaddom, it’s one of those ugly, two-legged hairless monsters…pee on her! Pee on her! She’ll drop me for sure…wait!  She didn’t drop me…hey, her hand’s kinda warm…must be the pee…I think I’ll just sit here for a while. 

And yes, before you ask, the little ingrate pissed on me and no, I didn’t drop him.  I held him on my hand for a few minutes…I actually like the little critters and as long as you don’t grip them, they are very content to sit and soak up the warmth of a hand.  Looking at him, I thought it would be very cool to take some pictures of him.  So I took him into the house, where unfortunately I had to wrap my hand lightly around him to keep him from escaping in the house.  Like them, but don’t want to room with them.  Now from the toad’s perceptive, this was probably a bit like being abducted by aliens… I was taken into a large brightly lit room, two of them conversed…I couldn’t understand what they said.  I was taken down this long hall…I was so scared…I was thrown in a shower…I tried to escape but as I leaped to my freedom, my captor caught me again.  I saw the instrument of torture and I squirmed and wiggled to be free, but I couldn’t escape…I was placed in this tube; I knew I was going to die.  Suddenly I’m free, I’m confused…this isn’t where I was…

My camera is in my room so I had to walk down the hall and the little creep peed on me again.  When I was outside I could avoid it for the most part, but inside where I don’t want toad pee everywhere, I had to accept that sometimes things get a tad pissy.  I ran my hand and the toad under the faucet...I talked to it the whole time, telling it what a good toad it was.  He got away from me once and so I put him in a large plastic cup and took his happy, hoppy ass outside.  I took a couple of pictures of him after I let him out and watched to make sure he wasn’t too traumatized by the experience.  Then I wiped down my camera and washed my hands of him…literally.  In the grand scheme of  things, it doesn’t seem like much but I like toads.  They have gorgeous eyes, keep the insect levels down and are quite beautiful to listen to when I walk my dog.  So, this toad will make a perilous journey, across dangerous roads and possibly he will make it to where ever his journey ends…wish him luck, he’s got a long way to go.