Saturday, July 22, 2017

The great bufocide of 2017

Went fishing at Lake Orange, got there around 5, took the canoe off the roof, and a thunderstorm hit.
I took refuge and waited out the storm.  By the time I put in finally it was about quarter 'til 7.  Of course, not 15 minutes after I put in, another storm blew in, and I took shelter in a cove, tied up the canoe, and sat under the canopy, watching the rain fall on the water. While I sat there, I cast a curly tail into the cove, and caught what I believe is a warmouth.

Finally, the sky brightened and it turned into a nice evening, but there were no fish to be caught.

As I took out, I saw a toad sitting there at my car, who hopped away.  I should've realized then what was to come, but I don't have the gift of foresight.  Driving along the road, hundreds of toads were hopping around on the asphalt.  Stupid creatures, not realizing the import of a 16 foot strip of mysterious black rock running through the woods.  And of course, me, in a 4000 pound car, bearing down on them, engine racing, exhaust spewing unburned hydrocarbons and monoxide, tires inexorably turning over and over again, squishing toads by the gross.

Actually, I drove slowly, hoping to give the toads time to hop out of the way, but I must have run over at least 10 despite my precautions.

Which leads to the title of this post. When I was younger, american toads were in the genus Bufo, but according to wikipedia, they are now apparently in the genus Anaxyrus.  Consequently, my title is taxonomically incorrect.  I wish scientists would leave well enough alone; don't we have enough science by now?

No comments:

Post a Comment