Pedley's Ponderings

There's a magic hole in our backyard that's been spewing riches beyond anyone's wildest dreams this spring. That is, if you're a 3-year-old boy obsessed with animals.

We've got a magic toad hole. The opening in question is an old tile previously used to funnel basement water away from our 104-year-old Ocheyedan home before we took ownership. We use a different option now, and I forgot about the crevice until recently when it began producing warty amphibians.

The opening to the tile now sits in our makeshift fire pit. Since it's filled with ash, I think our friendly neighborhood toads find it pretty easy to locate the hole and find winter refuge when the weather turns. The tile must stay warm enough to insulate them during northwest Iowa's harsh winter months, and based on the amount of toads our son has found each day, I'm correct in that assumption.

The toad hole – or as Oliver more correctly calls it, the toad burrow – began pumping out its product at the beginning of the month. I was completing a grouting project in the kitchen and needed to dump the water somewhere, so I chose the fire pit in lieu of the street like a good citizen. This must have irritated the bug eaters, as they started appearing en masse as soon as the water started soaking in.

Oliver found his first toad when I was cleaning old buckets prior to the grout job. I was dumping water when he yanked a rather pathetic looking creature from the pit. Covered in ash and mud, the poor guy clearly wasn't ready to come out. Oliver had much different plans.

Little did we know there'd be many more where that came from. It seems every time Oliver sticks his little paw into the hole there's a new four-legged friend waiting for him. He sprints to the hole as soon as we get home each day, and usually pulls out a toad like magic.

I'm glad he's interested in animals, but the toad hole has become somewhat of an annoyance. As I mentioned, Oliver is 3 and forgets to be careful when he's excited. This is a detriment to the unlucky toads who've found themselves in his grasp, as he's dropped more than one onto our cement patio's surface. None have been mortally wounded, but I'd rather he let them go than pester the poor creatures more than necessary.

Admittedly, my son's new infatuation has forced a bit of self-reflection. I, too, was once a toad-obsessed little boy; and I, too, am guilty of pestering these critters more than necessary.

Like Oliver, I was just as curious and enthusiastic about my finds, often putting captured toads in a bucket with a stick and grass for a day or two so I could observe them before eventually letting them hop along. I've not done that with Oliver because I came to a great realization last year: If you keep letting the toads go after each find, that means they're ripe for rediscovery the next day. It's like one nonstop Easter egg hunt, but instead of candy, it's a dirty, warty toad.

We'll have plenty of toad discoveries until the first fall frost. Granted, they're likely the same five or six individuals over and over again, but as long as Oliver feels magic each time, nobody's going to say anything.

Nick Pedley is the news editor of The Hartley Sentinel-The Everly/Royal News.