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Jun. 29th, 2005 05:32 pm
Mister Bufo in residence
Seems that our toad is probably a crossbreed of the North American toad and the Fowler's Toad, which occurs frequently in this part of sourthern New England.
I found a wonderful resource at the Northern Prairie Wildlife Research Center site of the USGS: its entries on the North American Toad and differentiations with the Fowler and other similar toads was quite helpful & a delight to read. I highly recommend it.
Mister Bufo is still in residence: as far as I can tell we should have called it Miss Bufo -- she has a light throat and an unspotted belly, with some spots skirting her back thighs. Light throat usually means female, but since I've been referring to the toad as Mister Bufo for the last few days, I feel strange suddenly changing its name.
What do you think? And should I start bringing her insects during the day, while she meditates in my doorway, hoping that stray insects will wander by? (Vain hope, as I doubt they'll deliberately crawl under the storm door, like she does.)
a Fowler's toad, similar coloration to ours
Real photos to come: I gotta suck them off the camera & update both here and my Flickr albums. I have finished photos of the house, which is (knock wood) almost done. More on that, too -- there are some major fuckups that need to be fixed, still. And of course we have no money; we're still not buying food unless we have to, and we're out, oh, about the worth of my (now used-up) retirement savings, in our credit card debt now. In other words, I'm in debt up past the top of my head without a lifesaver to hold, and my income isn't keeping up (another problem; no raise for over 10 years, with increased workload), and the fuckups must be fixed or the house will be in danger and the new mortgage we must get to roll some of that debt into a more reasonable ball may not be approved. I don't know why I'm obsessing about the new mortgage: after all, my income won't cover all those debts I incurred because of having my savings & my house destroyed by a con artist. I'm fucked.
But, hey, I'm down more than 60 lbs now. I can lost as much again and not be in too much trouble, but the rate is too fast. A pound (or more) a day, I'm told, is bad news.
Sigh.
I'm going to concentrate on the toad. Much less depressing.
I found a wonderful resource at the Northern Prairie Wildlife Research Center site of the USGS: its entries on the North American Toad and differentiations with the Fowler and other similar toads was quite helpful & a delight to read. I highly recommend it.
Mister Bufo is still in residence: as far as I can tell we should have called it Miss Bufo -- she has a light throat and an unspotted belly, with some spots skirting her back thighs. Light throat usually means female, but since I've been referring to the toad as Mister Bufo for the last few days, I feel strange suddenly changing its name.
What do you think? And should I start bringing her insects during the day, while she meditates in my doorway, hoping that stray insects will wander by? (Vain hope, as I doubt they'll deliberately crawl under the storm door, like she does.)
a Fowler's toad, similar coloration to ours
Real photos to come: I gotta suck them off the camera & update both here and my Flickr albums. I have finished photos of the house, which is (knock wood) almost done. More on that, too -- there are some major fuckups that need to be fixed, still. And of course we have no money; we're still not buying food unless we have to, and we're out, oh, about the worth of my (now used-up) retirement savings, in our credit card debt now. In other words, I'm in debt up past the top of my head without a lifesaver to hold, and my income isn't keeping up (another problem; no raise for over 10 years, with increased workload), and the fuckups must be fixed or the house will be in danger and the new mortgage we must get to roll some of that debt into a more reasonable ball may not be approved. I don't know why I'm obsessing about the new mortgage: after all, my income won't cover all those debts I incurred because of having my savings & my house destroyed by a con artist. I'm fucked.
But, hey, I'm down more than 60 lbs now. I can lost as much again and not be in too much trouble, but the rate is too fast. A pound (or more) a day, I'm told, is bad news.
Sigh.
I'm going to concentrate on the toad. Much less depressing.
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