As a child, I used to spend an inordinate amount of time catching toads. In those days, most neighborhood parks had large rocks as part of their landscaping scheme, and there was usually just enough space underneath to comfortably fit a toad or two. I was too small to overturn the rocks, so I would flush the toads out by dumping water into the holes. I was very patient, and my patience was usually rewarded with the appearance of an irked amphibian or two. I would then take them home and keep them, which unfortunately often resulted in their premature demise. I had the enthusiasm but not always the knowledge needed to provide for them.
These days, despite spending most of my working hours on hiking trails, I don't see as many toads. I'm pretty sure that local populations have declined greatly, probably in part due to kids like me who remove them from their habitats. That said, I'm sure habitat destruction and pollution also must take a share of the blame. It really is too bad. I admire the zen-like expression of the toad. They're very placid little creatures, and their jewel-like eyes seem to contain hidden depths. In the case of this photo, it is possible to see the reflections of my camera lens and a couple of kids. We found this little guy on a hike along the shores of Lake Ranch reservoir. He was inside a hole, with just the tip of his nose showing. Right after this discovery, we also found a mother Killdeer who loudly defended her eggs from us. The silly bird didn't even have a nest, and the little speckled eggs lay on the ground underneath her, almost invisible.
I often reflect on how part of my job includes doing the same kind of thing I loved doing as a kid - finding animals. The main difference, of course, is that now I just take pictures and leave the animals where I found them. I find comfort in knowing that these animals are out there, and I find comfort in their simplicity.
Human beings make things too complicated for their own good sometimes. Why is that? When can we stop?
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