There is something immensely satisfying, as the Critter Keeper, to have a toad like Buford. Now, most people have seen toads, but you usually don’t see one as big as Buford. On a good day, after he has enjoyed a meal of several dozen crickets and a few mice, Buford weighs in at around two pounds. His length, from snout to vent, is about nine inches. Cane toads (Bufo marinus) get much larger than Buford is now, some weighing as much as six pounds. Cane toads, also known as giant marine toads, originate from South America. They have been introduced into Florida, Texas, Hawaii and Australia to eat insects that were damaging sugar cane crops. They have become a problem in places because the huge glands behind the head secrete a nasty poison that is capable of killing a dog. That usually happens when a dog discovers a toad exploring the confines of the back yard of a residence. I always enjoy the gasps and cries of surprise from an audience when Buford makes his appearance. I scoop him up with one hand, which usually causes one of his hind legs to dangle, and that only emphasizes his size. I have my standard banter regarding Buford, depending on the venue of my presentation, but it usually involves a female volunteer. Once the young lady stands up next to me, I say, “Now, you’ve all heard that fairy tale where a pretty girl kisses a toad and it turns into a prince. We’re going to test that scientific hypothesis.” The look on the girl’s face is always priceless, and there are very few takers. That’s not to say that Buford isn’t attractive, so far as toads go. He has beautiful green eyes, which complement the wonderful array of bumps, “warts,” and glands that cover his body. I do not enjoy handling him when he is in the middle of a molt. A dark, slimy, thin layer of skin comes off of him, and it makes him rather difficult to hold on to. Holding him at these times is admittedly rather repulsive. But overall, I think he is pretty handsome for a toad. He does have one other rather unattractive feature that I experience on average of several times a week. I experienced it again today. I was in a classroom of about twenty sixth-graders, and I had just selected my volunteer. She innocently stood, took a step toward me, and stopped suddenly, saying, “Ooh –“ I felt it at the moment of her exclamation. A cool wetness permeated the front of my shirt, and I instinctively directed him away from my body. Clear water began running over my hands and hitting the floor, and the sheer volume of it was rather remarkable. My volunteer quickly sat back down, looking quite shocked and aghast, and there was nothing more I could do except let Buford finish. I watch as the twin streams of water shoot out of Buford’s vent, spraying out about ten inches or so, falling to splatter audibly on the tile floor of the science room. I’m the guy who marvels at nature, so I just held him and watched. The teacher for the science class today was visibly impressed. He was advancing with a roll of paper towels before Buford even finished, and I appreciated his remarks. “That is one well-hydrated toad,” he exclaimed, “Man, that is a lot of water.” As he discarded half a roll of wet paper towels, he added, “I had no idea that a toad could pee that much.” As usual, I am relegated to apologizing by this point, not only for the wet mess, but also for the fact that Buford has obviously undergone a sudden weight loss. He doesn’t look quite as large as he did before, and he probably only weighs a pound and a half by now. Worse, after such an incident, it makes it doubly hard to find a girl willing to kiss him.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 03:09:24 +0000
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