The two railing planters—rectangle-shaped wire lined with cocoa matting—looked like half smirks. Part of the matting had drooped and part remained where it was supposed to be. I wasn’t sure if I could salvage the matting, but had nothing to lose, so I tried to bolster and adjust. As I propped up the drooping sides I’d rearrange the dirt.
Concentrating on my efforts I caught just a hint of motion near my hand. A small toad rather grumpily gave a half-hop, and then stopped. His beady black eyes glared at me as if to say he was not amused with my meddling. I stared back at him. Or her. How does one tell?
Either way the toad was quite comely. The coloration blended near perfectly with the soil. As I studied the toad I caught another motion to my right. For just the briefest of moments a brown mouse poked his/her head out of the cocoa matting, and then disappeared.
Wait a minute! First of all, I can understand how a mouse could scale the railing and make a home. But the toad? Unless it has super-natural jumping skills, I don’t think so.
How did the toad get there? Why was the toad there? Was he/she a mouse-guest?
Did the mouse think, “I want to go with the toad less traveled?”
Were they a couple? Were they set up on a really bad blind date, but ultimately thought, “What the heck?” (I hear toad’s like to bar hop.) Heavy questions for a droopy flower box and my over-active imagination.
If there turns out to be some freakish moads or touse’s this spring, just remember I toad you so. Their discovery was the best part of my day.
Black eye’d toads are protected. So, watch it or serve time. You seem nice. So be nice to our amfibus friends. Toads help us by eating bugs. Specifically honey bees and monarch butterflies.
One of the corner stones of our society is political correctness. Thank you for refferring to the mouse as him or her. You are a credit to our female nation. NAFWR