Cecil
When I arrived at home last night around 9 PM, it was super humid in Volo and I could see lightening in the distance. I was walking out of the garage to water my potted plants when I spotted something small and dark out of the corner on my eye. I looked down at the ground, a couple feet behind my parked car, and saw a huge toad sitting just to the inside of what had to be the wheel path of my car from the driveway into the garage. To the left of the big toad I saw a tiny toad hopping off in the opposite direction. How did I miss them?! I looked around to see if I had squished any of the baby toad's brothers or sisters but the driveway looked clear. I was relieved.
I almost reached down to move the large toad into the grass but it must have remembered me from the last time and started to slowly hop over to the bushes. I picked one up last summer--probably not this one but who knows--and scared it silly. It actually peed on me a little. I felt so bad for the poor little thing. This one was much more cooperative and bounded away without too much herding on my part.
I continued watering my plants...taking care where I stepped to hopefully avoid crushing any baby toads. I mentally thanked them for eating lots of nasty mosquitoes for me and felt strangely happy to live in a place that's healthy enough to support multiple levels of the food chain...including handsome little baby toads.
When I was a kid--a real Tom Boy based on what my parents tell me--I used to collect toads and frogs and bring them home with me. I don't remember why but for some reason I called all toads and frogs "Cecil." Maybe there was a children's book with a frog named Cecil or something? Who knows? It's one of those stories my mom likes to repeat almost every time we come to visit. This makes me smile--not because I have any recollection of the event itself--but because telling the story seems to make my mom happy.
I almost reached down to move the large toad into the grass but it must have remembered me from the last time and started to slowly hop over to the bushes. I picked one up last summer--probably not this one but who knows--and scared it silly. It actually peed on me a little. I felt so bad for the poor little thing. This one was much more cooperative and bounded away without too much herding on my part.
I continued watering my plants...taking care where I stepped to hopefully avoid crushing any baby toads. I mentally thanked them for eating lots of nasty mosquitoes for me and felt strangely happy to live in a place that's healthy enough to support multiple levels of the food chain...including handsome little baby toads.
When I was a kid--a real Tom Boy based on what my parents tell me--I used to collect toads and frogs and bring them home with me. I don't remember why but for some reason I called all toads and frogs "Cecil." Maybe there was a children's book with a frog named Cecil or something? Who knows? It's one of those stories my mom likes to repeat almost every time we come to visit. This makes me smile--not because I have any recollection of the event itself--but because telling the story seems to make my mom happy.