I'm not a killer, really. I'm usually fine with live and let live. So let me explain why I had to kill the toads. It's the fault of the dog across the back fence, really. The neighbors got this new dog (probably rescued off the street) sometime around Christmas, I think a Labrador mixed with something else. This dog barks. Incessantly. If this dog is outside, the only time it stops barking is when it decides to howl instead. Incessantly. It's fine when they take it inside; at least if it barks and howls inside, I don't hear it. But outside, it barks and howls, continuously and incessantly, and it's LOUD, especially when it gets in one particular corner of the fence that really echoes the sound back toward our bedroom window, which of course faces the back, upstairs.
That dog really bothers me, mainly because we also had a dog that would bark anytime she was outside, continuously and incessantly. So we paid the price by keeping the dog inside 99% of the time. From the time we moved into this neighborhood until the dog died, seven years, we put up with the hair, smell, mess, hair, "accidents", hair, smell, and hair of having a dog inside. So it really peeves me when someone else isn't willing to pay the price we had to pay . Still, since we're not around much during the day and the dog was mostly put in at night, I was fine with the dog across the back fence until they started leaving it out later, and later, then later, then sometimes all night. And since it was outside all night, guess what? Yeah, it barked. All night. Incessantly.
So after about 2 months of very little sleep, I was in the middle of a project at work that I really needed to be awake for, this dog was barking about 11:30 PM, no way I was sleeping, and I'd finally had it! We don't really know these people; we've said hello over the fence and when they were out walking the dog, but don't really have a relationship and I didn't at that time have their phone number, so I did what any tired, grumpy person would do (although I really wanted to load the shotgun and solve the problem that way); I opened the back window and started yelling, trying to outdo the dog. Like I said, tired, grumpy, sleepy, not sure what I yelled; I don't think I actually threatened the dog, but I was pretty adamant they needed to shut the dog up - NOW. Having had my say, I slammed down the window, and...no, wait! I re-opened the window and let loose another fusilade, then I slammed the window again, and miserably crawled back into bed, expecting that I would have to get up again in a few minutes and call the cops this time (I really hate to bother the police with stuff like this, but this had gotten ridiculous).
But you know what? I guess my voice really carried in the still night air. I guess I was loud. Maybe a little scary. The sheriff's deputy who lives next door later told us he grabbed his gun and was ready to come see what some madman was yelling about. In spite of the dog, televisions, air conditioners, and everything else, I guess people heard me. The dog was absolutely, immediately hushed. Dead silent. And not only that, but you know how you can always hear an occasional bark from the neighborhood dogs, especially when one's barking, they all have to throw in an occasional reply? Well, not only was the dog across the fence hushed up immediately then and every night since, but it seems every dog within a two-mile radius was scurried inside and hushed. Dead silence. I guess people heard me.
So anyway, that's why I was honor-bound to kill the toads. Not that I hate toads; we've lived with one big, ugly black one in the back yard for years. We were renting a farmhouse when we first got our dog, and she got in the habit of bringing us dead toads and other prizes and leaving them on the walk coming out of the house. A dead toad wasn't exactly what I wanted to see first thing in the morning on the way to work, so we captured a couple of toads, sprinkled Tabasco sauce on their backs, and let them back loose in the yard. The dog decided she didn't like bringing us toads after all. So like I said, we had a big ugly black toad in this yard for years, and it was pretty much live and let live. I figured it earned its keep eating bugs, the dog wasn't interested, and I guess the cat didn't really care about toads either. But when we put the pond in, things changed. First we had eggs in the pond too big to be from our little fish, then tadpoles, then the biggest, ugliest polywogs I've ever seen. I caught several of the big polywogs about a month ago and dispatched them to the compost bin, but in spite of that, we still ended up with live toads come the spring. I don't think they're necessarily related to or even the same species as the original black toad, whom I haven't seen for awhile; these have a little more coloration. And I'm no expert whether they're toads or frogs; my only yardstick is, toads ugly, frogs a little easier on the eyes, and these are ugly, thus toads in my mind. But the big black toad never sang like these started to about a week ago. Which comes to the part of being honor-bound to kill them.
Yeah, these toads sing. Incredibly loudly. It started a few days ago, not so loud and only slightly annoying, then I don't know if they moved closer or just got louder. Their song sounds kind of like the bearings going out on a fan just before it freezes up and stops, only when it stops, it starts right up again in a few seconds. And they're nocturnal, of course, so it only goes on at night. It's probably fine in a country house with a pond or river a few hundred feet away; in a suburban backyard pond fifteen feet from your bedroom window, it's grating and annoying. And loud. We were watching LOST on TV, and these little buggers were actually drowning out the TV sound.
I grabbed a flashlight and went outside at the commercial, and sure enough, there were two of them on the rocks around the edge of the pond, throats expanded and singing their hearts out. I tried just chasing them away by shining the light in their eyes, then getting closer, but they were fearless, and wouldn't move until I actually pushed them with the flashlight. Uh-oh. Being a male animal myself, I know that there's only one thing that can overcome the natural fear instinct that should have had them turning tail and hiding. These critters were in mating mode, and I was looking at more eggs, tadpoles, polywogs. And instead of two, there would be - what? 10? 20? making 10 times the racket in a short while. I could have just waited for the big grey bird, a heron or kingfisher that nests high up in the big pine by the driveway to show up and hope she prefers dining on toads over fish, but having recently established myself as the madman demanding nocturnal QUIET!, there was no way I could allow my pond to become a nightly cacophony of annoying toad songs. Since it seemed I wouldn't be able to chase these toads into silent hiding, I was duty and honor bound to kill them.
So next LOST commercial, I returned to the pond with flashlight and BB gun in hand. I sat down on the bench and popped the toad on this side of the pond in the back of the head with a BB, and was drawing a bead on the second one across the pond, when a third one chimed in from the right side of the pond. I dispatched those two, so I thought, at least I knocked them off their rock perches into the water with BB's, then went back to watch the end of LOST. I returned to find that these are some tough little toads, though! Even though I have a 40-year-old Daisy that's probably twice as powerful as the BB guns sold today, my shots had only stunned them. While I was chasing down the other two, the third one even returned to his rock and starting singing again! It would take 3-4 shots each, chasing one under a bush and moving rocks to get at two before I could put a final BB in each one at point-blank range. I buried them in the compost bin and turned in for a quiet night's sleep. I have to admit, though, not without a little tinge of sadness. I'm not a killer, really.
Copyright 2008 Jeffrey Brent Clifton
eMail to: brentc(a)jbcmusic.com
Original blog posting 05/09/2008/jbc