They Came Out with the Rain

“Where are all the toads?” was the question earlier this summer. Now and then, we’d see a small toad, but none of our customary fist-sized hoppers. These lumpy amphibians have their own respective territories in the barnyard—one right beneath the yard light, sheltering by day beneath some old lumber; one by the front of the white doored shed, which often cruised over to the turkey coop as well; and one by the red barn, all sassy and round.

The smaller toads have to make their own territories around these large ladies, which are quite possible nearly as old as me! Ever since I was a little kid, toads have made me smile, and I always make sure to move them off any roadways and into safe grassy spaces while doing chores.

Usually, warm, damp nights bring the toads out in droves, but as the summer months crept past, hardly a toad was to be found. One small one had made its home in the cucumber patch, hiding from the heat beneath the plastic mulch and popping out to sit in a small puddle for a time before retreating once more. With the dearth of toads also came a noticeable lack of frogs, grater snakes, and bees. Could our odd winter and dramatic frost heaves have hurt them?

And then, finally, when the rains came in late July, out sprung dormant life. The part of our lane that crosses a little creek became so full of frogs it was hilarious to try to clear the decks to drive through. A few garter snakes began making slithery appearances, and bumble bees appeared as ones and twos and now are nearly a swarm on our flowers. Picking green beans and cucumbers last night, busy, happy bees poured out of the disturbed plants, laden with pollen.

And, finally, the toads returned. I was working evening chores recently when I heard a soft flump, flump near my foot on the gravel. I looked down with my head lamp and saw the most rotund toad looking back at me. She was headed my way, as if to announce her return. I squealed with glee, crouching down for a photo moment.

“She’s back!” I texted the rest of the family farm team.

“Who’s back?” came Mom’s reply.

“Hold on, photos loading.”

“Is it a toad?” Kara texted from the milking parlor where she was cleaning up from the evening’s milking of the sheep. She knows how much I adore toads.

The photos loaded, and we all had a good chuckle. Lady toad was quite the celebrity of the night! She was gently redirected off the gravel roadway and into the safety of the grass nearby.

In sustainable farming, observing nature can offer us key clues about conditions in the environment. Early migrations mean something completely different in the spring versus in the fall, signaling if seasons are shifting differently that year. Other species, like amphibians, signal ecosystem health, as they are often the first to be negatively impacted by environmental degradation and toxicity.

I was feeling very sad not to see my neighborhood toads this summer, but it appears that they were waiting for those much-needed rains. I can’t blame them—the long stretch of dry caused the little creek to stop flowing, the pasture grasses to stop growing, and only diligent but conservative irrigation kept the gardens alive. Now, in the dewy evening chores, frogs and toads make their appearances—glisteny or lumpy as according to the variety.

Learning to keenly observe nature is one of the ways to gain respect for her. There is so much variety and interrelationship to discover that can enrich our human experience. On the homestead, the balance of wild and domestic life is both a challenge and a most beautiful part of the experience. There are the lives that you tend and keep, and the lives that you tend and let be free.

While I feel I have a relationship with the chubby toads of the barnyard or the pair of sandhill cranes that shadow me during morning chores, they are not pets, and they retain their full independence. The fragility of that relationship is part of what makes it magical in comparison with relationships to domestic animals, even though both are rooted in stewardship.

I am hopeful that we will continue to have enough rain for the remainder of the summer for the pastures to stay green and growing, for the gardens to stay well hydrated, and for the toads to feel safe enough to hop about in the evening to say hello. What wildlife do you look forward to seeing each year? Do they always make you smile? I hope the chubby toads do. See you down on the farm sometime.