March 15th – Not brilliant photos, as the light was bad and I’m still not down with the new camera… but hey, frog soup. Shire Oak Park, and the shallow pond in the north is one huge amphibian love-in. Another of spring’s triggers released, and the frogs and toads are out in abundance, obeying nature’s imperative.
Isn’t wildlife wonderful?
July 21st – If you’re near water at the moment, watch where you walk. The canal towpath at The Chemical in Brownhills was today busy with hundreds of tiny toadlets like this wee one. He could fit on a penny coin, and you only see them when they move – I dread to think how many have been accidentally squished.
Again, the toads leaving the water is yet another sign that summer marches on…
October 11th – Still, not everyone hates it. Near the top of Shire Oak Hill, my lights picked up a familiar silhouette: that of a toad sat on the footpath, nose as high as he could get it, enjoying the rain on his skin, motionless. He was having a ball.
He made me smile, if nothing else. He seems to be smiling, too.
August 25th – I headed out to the shops late in the afternoon. We’d had heavy rain, and everything was glistening and wet. Scooting around Clayhanger Common, I found these two unfortunate common toads enjoying the drizzle at opposite ends of the path from Clayhanger to the Pier Street footbridge. I can’t tell if they’re wounded from attack, infected or have a parasitic condition, but in one, half the face is eaten away, and the in the other, the nostrils have become wide open sores. Both animals behaved normally, and were as lively and active as toads get, yet I don’t think either will live long. I’ve not seen this before, and find it curious that I should see two half a mile apart. I’m thinking it’s a parasite, but can’t stop thinking about the past of this area as a refuse tip.
I’d welcome comment from anyone who knows about amphibians and their ecology.
EDIT: It seems these unfortunate creatures are suffering from attack by toad fly larvae – read about them here on Wikipedia, but not if you’re squeamish. Nature really is horrid sometimes.
July 29th – Speeding back towards home down the canal towpath in darkness, I spotted a familar shape in the headlight. Screeching to a halt, I gently picked up this little fellow – a common toad – and placed him in the safety of the canalside grass. He was a small chap, probably about half to two thirds fully grown, and he had a delightfully speckled belly. I lifted him gently between thumb and fingers, it’s unwise to clasp these amphibians in the flat hand, as they spray acrid urine as a defence mechanism. They also squeal if you touch them on their lower back – it’s a sound that’s remarkably piercing, and is generated as a signal to other male toads that they’re attempting to mate with the wrong sex in mating frenzies.
Toads. Surprising things. Not a whole bunch of road sense, either…
October 27th – Zipping home late from work in heavy rain, I was suffering a migraine, so headed for the quiet back lanes of Little Aston and Stonnall, the better not to contend with too much traffic. Near Little Aston forge, I spotted this fellow sat bolt upright in the road, enjoying the precipitation. This common toad – I’m surprised he wasn’t already hibernating – must have had a hard, dry summer, and he really seemed to be enjoying the rain. He was alert, and nervous. I moved him carefully to the grass verge and cycled on. Hopefully, he’ll stay out of the way of passing vehicles.
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