Top Dog Toad

My feisty Jack Russell Terrier is hunched over the garden bed by the back deck, frothing at the mouth, and spitting in disgust. Oh no, he's gone feral! He's got rabies! Then I spot a bug-eyed, bumpy toad, sitting perfectly happy in the dirt. Huh? My dog is a hunting machine, and no bird or rodent has ever survived his savage jaws.

I've got to know: who is this fearless little warrior? And will my dog turn into a frog?

I snap some photos and compare them against the markings and size of all the different types of toads that live in Southern Ontario. It's a fully grown American toad! Anaxyrus americanus. So common in eastern Canada and the United States, they named him the "king" or "chief" of toads. And, judging by the long front legs and brown throat, it's a male.

I'll call him Leon.

Luckily, Leon is only "mildly" toxic to dogs—phewf! People should avoid contact too, so they don't break out in warts. Okay, that's not true, but do wash your hands. And please excuse me while I scrub my dog's mouth with a wet cloth...

The foul-tasting froth is a milky poison that seeped from the puffy glands on the sides of Leon's head. Usually, this is enough for deadly predators to spit him out (just ask my dog!). But some predators, such as hawks, raccoons and garter snakes, are immune to the poison. For these, Leon has a couple more self-defence moves under his stumpy legs.

He can puff himself up like a balloon, so he's scarier and harder to swallow. Or he can pee all over himself, so he just tastes bad. Yeah, that'd do it for me. No frog legs for dinner. Since, apparently, all toads are frogs. They look a little different with their thick, dry, warty skin, but toads and frogs belong to the same "tailless" order known as Anura. And they both start out the same too...

Life for Leon would have begun (by my calculations) in my neighbour's shallow pond. Where he hatched from an egg as a simple tadpole, before sprouting legs to end up here, in my backyard. So, Leon is an amphibian. A cold-blooded chap who still needs water but mostly lives on land, in forests, fields, farms, and even urban gardens. Many American toads are living the city life. Where there are fewer natural predators (but more dogs). And some very happy homeowners, enjoying their pest-free gardens.

Perhaps that's why Leon doesn't have time for friends. He's too busy gobbling up to a thousand bugs each day. His meaty diet makes him a carnivore. On his menu you will find tasty treats such as snails, beetles, slugs, and earthworms. Slurp! Which is exactly how he eats them. He flips out his sticky, stretchy tongue and reels them in. Sometimes, when he's feeling more energetic, he reaches out his front legs to catch something bigger, like a grasshopper. And when he sheds his skin, he eats that too! Sucks it from under his tongue, all in one shot.

To wash down all that food, Leon sits in a pool of water (like a puddle or my neighbour's pond). He doesn't drink it. His skin is permeable and soaks up liquid like a sponge. Sadly, this is how pollutants and chemicals get in too. But Leon doesn't need to worry about that. He's got clean air and water, natural soil—a healthy environment to keep him kicking.

Leon does need to be careful in the sun, though. Since he can't use sun block or an umbrella, he'll be spending the long, hot days of summer under my deck. Or hiding under the leaves and mulch at the foot of our willow tree. Or even behind the shed. Anywhere it's cooler and moister, shaded and hidden.

In winter, when it's freezing cold and the ground is blanketed in snow, there will be nowhere left to hide. To escape the frost and survive, Leon will need to hibernate underground. Back legs first, in reverse, he will sweep dirt aside to dig three feet down and hollow out a cozy bed. Then he will slooooow his breathing and his heartbeat, and basically just sit there in the dark, conserving energy. Bored out of his itty-bitty toad brain!

When the earth finally thaws in spring, Leon will warm up too. And when he's fully mature at two or three years old, his instincts will lead him back to the pond where his own life began, to start a whole new generation of tadpoles!

There will be trilling melodies and mad scrambling, as males fight over hefty, egg-laying females. The pond will fill with thousands and thousands of tiny eggs, floating in ridiculously long strips of jelly.

And Leon will croak: "You're on your own, kids!" As he hops back through the fence, to my backyard. For a bit of peace and quiet.

Yep, our Leon has carved out quite the habitat for himself. A home, where he's got everything he needs. Including his very own guard dog—who will never try to eat him again!