They hop about.
Our backyard is a veritable toad-city, the pond providing a natural pool for an occasional toad swim and all the shade and garden nooks and crannies for dwelling. It might at times be almost plague-like, if you don’t like toads, but we appreciate how they dine on unwanted bug life.
But the biggest toad of all, the Godfather Toad, if you will, is gone. That toad had to be weighing in at 10 ounces, for sure. I mean, he must have really been packing away the mosquito larvae. He was huge and he was a governing presence. But he flew too close to the sun, attempting to stay hidden in tall grass…the same grass Dave was mowing.
He will be missed.
The garden is a little less welcoming now. The mosquitos bzzzzzssszzzz in temporary victory. The little toads wonder what the future holds, watching for the next time the loud green machine will come rolling out like thunder. For the Godfather is gone. He is dead. No more Mr. Big Toad.