toad orgy

 
It finally happened.
 
Saturday night.
 
Actually, it started in the evening, about 6 pm.
 
And lasted all weekend long.
 
You could hear the croaking and whistling marching (should I say hopping) on the farm from every direction.
 
The toads were on the move.
 
A determinate, marching, horde, leaving their hidden holes in the forest and fields.
 
And converging, one hop at a time, on the goldfish pond.
 
It was, alas, the annual frog get together. (for more information, see Toad Orgy on our webpage).
 
By one in the morning there were, from my count, 75 plus toads frolicking in our front yard goldfish pond.
 
When I first heard the croaking, actually a sort of high pitch whistling, I ran out and turned off the electric fences (see Fried Frogs on our webpage). Every time I see a poor toad who has attempted to take a short cut across the chicken yard and instead got himself fried on the lower wires on the electric netting, I feel somewhat guilty.
 
And on the night of the annual toad orgy there could easily have been a catastrophe of merrily hopping toads suddenly getting toasted.
 
(one disaster, fortunately, averted)
 
The toad get together is one of the event I wait for each spring. (and not because of some weird thoughts about toad sex) but because it has marked, ever since I've had a goldfish pond, the last frost of the year.
 
And the signal that it is now OK to start planting.
 
Which is what intend to do this coming week.