Sagepaper

I took my dog, Zack, outside a couple of days ago. Despite its being his first trip out for the day, he just flopped down on the sidewalk in the sun. So, I figured I'd wait for him; he seldom decides to sun himself.

While I was waiting, I heard a splat off to the left. I looked and saw a mighty wad of bird lyme. I went back to watching Zack, but then felt a menacing presence. I looked at the bird lyme again, I had thought it might have been a critter before I saw that it was a dropping. I couldn't tell what it was, but that was the source of the bad attitude.

I looked more closely. The attitude intensified as I drew nearer. It was a small white toad. I've never seen a small white toad before. It was under trees overhead, but not under the roof at all. I wondered if it were injured from the splat. That might give it an attitude problem. I asked it to show me its tongue, so I would know if it were alive. It said it didn't know if it could. I told it to try. For the first time since I had been watching it, it flicked its tongue out. I told it that was good. I went back to lean on the rail while Zack sunned himself.

I watched the toad, though. I saw a brief, weak shimmer, like heat from pavement, but not as dramatic. I thought it might be my eyes, but that would have been a new trick for them. Then the odor hit. The white toad had just given-off stink. It did this again every two to three minutes for a while.

I know that many animals, including primates, signal primal things with odors. Most human smells are subliminal, but sexual arousal and terror are discernible smells. I wondered if the odor had been present earlier, when I decided the toad had an attitude problem. It wasn't scared or defensive, though. It was hateful, mixed with predatory impulses.

Zack moved up to the porch to sun himself. The toad never moved. I studied its appearance more closely. It was white, but with faint, warty spots on it. I figured the small amount of coloration present ruled-out its being an albino.

Eventually, Zack was ready to go in the house, despite not having relieved himself. He veered toward the toad to give it a sniff, which I prevented. Once inside, I took care of his routine and pondered the hostile toad.

I had wondered about a variety of possibilities for its splat and for its bird lyme appearance. I had mostly figured a bird must have dropped it from one end or the other. I remembered that there were such things as tree frogs, though. Perhaps there were tree toads.

I took a half glass of water out and sloshed most of it across the boards to him, and poured some on him. He wasn't too grateful, but it did seem to be the right thing to do. I watched him through the window. The water on his board was absorbed by the wood, although there was water pooled on the next board.

I took another half glass of water out to him. I sloshed it again, but was a bit impatient with his attitude. When I dumped the remainder on his skin, I did so from higher up. That had enough force, it caused him to move, demonstrating that all four of his limbs were functional. I also saw suction cups on its hind toes.

I went back in the house, and watched. I couldn't see the tongue at that distance, but I saw a small rhythmic movement at the edge of the water, suggesting it was drinking. I had done all I knew to do for the toad, so I went upstairs to get on the Internet and find out what it was.

The closest thing to what it might be is a gray tree frog. The variants in color extend to the white that I saw. The warty back was within the realm of possibilities, but not in conjunction with the rows of spots. Rows of spots were within bounds, however, although they usually merged into stripes. The size was off, but it might have been young. On the other hand, it was fat like a toad, so it's diet was not going toward making it a longer frog. It did not look like any of the copious photo examples.

Finally, I turned-up something on a search for a white tree toad. An arborist of forty years in New England encountered one. He had never seen anything like it in those decades. His description exactly matched my toad. He had written to the top expert on amphibians in the nation, and the answer was posted on the net. The expert said it must have been a gray tree frog.

So, did I see a common gray tree frog with an attitude problem? Or am I the second person to identify a rare, white tree toad? Unfortunately, I did not think to photograph it. It seemed to have been refreshed by the water, as it was gone when I went back to look again. It never occurred to me that it could be a controversial sighting. I'm sure an arborist of forty years has seen plenty of the common gray tree frogs.

Fortunately, I was able to rule out one ugly possibility: a cuban frog. From Cuba, these are aggressive predators (could explain the attitude). Their coloration range includes white with gray spots. They can be differentiated from other species only by hidden markings or their song. Except for a lower lip coloration, which my toad did not have.

These frogs are destabilizing the ecology from Florida on up to Savannah. They are enough of a problem that authorities are nervously watching their advance. If you think you have one, you are to kill it and send it to them for identification. If you don't want to send it into a lab, in the name of conservation, kill it at once and look for more. One such frog ate all the frogs in a Florida lady's backyard, emptied her goldfish pool of all its fish, and hung around looking for more stuff. She called the Department of Natural Resources, and was surprised by their advice. They told her to catch the frog in a container, euthanize it in her freezer, preserve it in alcohol, and send it in for identification. She wasn't happy with the answer, but complied.

So, that is my not well-solved mystery. Of the possibilities on the web, gray tree frog is the best fit. The prominent suction cups argue more for a frog than for a toad. I don't know about the attitude, though. It was worse than the bat's. It was worse than many insects.

There are, evidently, two types of gray tree frog, distinguishable only by their songs. One has twice as many chromosomes as the other. Perhaps the half-as-many-chromosomes variant is more primitive and has a nastier personality.

I have generally found frogs to be friendly. They can be easily spooked, but seem playful when they don't feel threatened. Even catching one doesn't usually evoke menacing hostility, just frenzied panic.

Toads have seemed to me a bit more reserved. If they can remain hidden, that is their preference, which makes sense -- they are not as nimble as frogs. Approaching toads, I have sensed apprehension and worry, mostly. They have to decide whether to keep still and unnoticed, or break their cover and run for their lives.

I have gotten a wee bit of attitude from a couple of really large toads. Nothing like the white toad, though. Little splotch of white gave me the evil-eye!