A Little Toad Story

Yesterday morning around 10:30 AM I looked into what had been an empty toad hole that had been dug into the ground on my drip line only to see that someone had filled the tunnel in. Last night I checked the deep depression around dusk and the earth was moving! Returning from an evening dog walk ‘my’ giant Western toad was emerging just before dark. Almost immediately she rounded the corner and disappeared into the vining nasturtium patch...
 
Early last June, I had constructed a rock pool to invite a toad to make a home here in my front yard. Although birds and lizards liked the oasis I never glimpsed a toad until August 29th, a day I will never forget.
 
It was around 2 PM and 92 degrees when I spied a giant Western toad sitting in the middle of my driveway. Stunned, I went over to investigate. In three long hops the female (females are larger than males) landed on the only ground that was moist, irrigated, and had ample space for a toad of her size – she was 5 1/2 inches long and almost as wide. Immediately she dug herself into the still moist soil scattering a few seedlings as she began to disappear before my very anxious eyes. I knew that Western toads couldn’t survive in 92 degree heat and wondered who had frightened her so badly that she ended up exposed to the merciless sun. When she was about two thirds submerged, she just stopped, seemingly, in exhaustion. At this point I intervened and gently poured about six cups of water around her. Her amber eyes peered into mine; I’m quite certain she knew I was trying to help. Next I cut Russian olive and cottonwood leaves to cover her head, and finally placed a big piece of cottonwood bark over the entire spot to keep her cool. That night when I went out to check on her she was gone.
 
The most amazing part of this story for me is that it was obvious that my toad knew exactly where to go to get out of the sun as fast as she could. The spot she chose was the only place in this whole area that was not root bound with perennials. It gradually dawned on me that this toad had probably been living here all summer, and I had just made her acquaintance!
 
I was thrilled because the one thing I miss the most about the Northeast is living with an abundance of toads and frogs in a rich riparian woodland. Over a period of thirty years I have probably raised thousands of peepers, wood frogs, and American toads from eggs that I collected each spring, even after building an ‘almost vernal pool’ to provide more inviting territory beside my brook. This shallow depression, about 100 feet in length is fed by a natural spring, and everyone including a Great Blue heron loved it!
 
When I first moved down by the river in Abiquiu I was sure that I would see and hear toads and frogs in the spring, but I was wrong. In two years I have heard only one toad call. This spring I looked forward to the summer rains that would bring out the amphibians I waited for with child-like anticipation… but this monsoon season has brought so little rain that there were no puddles that lasted long enough for mating to occur or eggs to be laid. By now I also had learned from direct observation that the river’s damming process made it nearly impossible for amphibians to rely on these unstable waters for places to breed because during the summer the river rises and falls constantly.
 
When my giant Western toad made her astonishing appearance I immediately dove into some extensive research on this toad who is the western version of the America toad that I am so familiar with. I was devastated to learn that according to a number of academic sources this animal is already extinct in the only area in which the Western toad once thrived in New Mexico, the Rio Grande and its tributaries in Rio Arriba county.
 
The welcome appearance of my toad indicates that as yet the species is still extant, but probably not for long. Toads and frogs have been under siege since the early 70’s when ecologists and naturalists first starting writing about their diminishing numbers, something that I intuited from direct observation before beginning to read about these ‘canaries in the coal mine.’ All amphibians as adults breathe through their skin and environmental toxins were already polluting our air and water as Rachel Carson tried to inform us in her ground - breaking book “Silent Spring.”
 
As Carson, and later, many others predicted, and were ridiculed (I know I was) environmental disaster is now reality - today we are living the consequences of not paying attention to these warnings about the health of our planet.
 
At this point there is little left to do except to accept what is. For me the loss of toads and frogs is deeply personal and heartbreaking because I have loved them all my life.
 
The one antidote to this despair is to take the deepest pleasure out of having a toad living in my yard now and this I am doing on a daily basis. I am heartened whenever I am fortunate enough to get a glimpse of Toad because I know by her size that she has lived a long time (toads live in the wild for ten or twelve years). I don’t know if this toad will continue to use her burrow in my seedlings but just knowing that she seems to be healthy and thriving is a gift that I will treasure for the rest of my days.
 

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