Toad in the hole

As usual for this time of year, the basement window wells are full of toads. Those plastic covers don't help - the toads wriggle their warty bodies exultantly under the edging and then land - plop! - in a dry, inhospitable environment.



Every other day I make the rounds to each of the five wells and attempt to discern the nubbly brown grumpers from their nubbly brown surroundings.

It is not easy.

Especially since, given a few days, they dig themselves little toad holes, from which they are inextractable.
I tried a shovel, but got scared (that I might hurt a toad leg).
I tried grabbing little toad heads, but they have NO NECKS. It was like gently grabbing the tip of a sodden, upside-down ice cream cone. If one had occasion to do that.
The solution (not respectful, I know), is to pour water into the hole until they are forced to come to the top. Like an angry marshmallow bobbing in a cup of dirt cocoa...oh, the baleful stares I get.



Then they can be scooped up in a convenient container and carried to more hoppitable climes.


Gaze deep into yon golden eye!