Toadmageddon

It was Toadmageddon in Ajax this week.

Well, maybe not that bad, but there sure were a lot of them, and we found them in the worst possible spot. For them, anyway.

In the parking lot.

Toads have been getting some positive press these days, what with toad lovers around the world rallying to provide safe crossings for the little fellows as they head back to their spawning grounds by the millions in the spring. The carnage on the roads is pretty nasty at that time – toads, like people, will get pretty reckless when it comes to love and sex – so it’s understandable that people will want to give them a hand in their travels.

Considering all the stereotypes – you know, the warts and everything – I think it’s awesome there are people who will hop to it for the little toad. One friend of mine has named her local backyard toad and remains hopeful that a kiss will transform the creature into her Prince. I told her that only works with frogs, but she was not to be dissuaded.

Mr. Toad

Anyway, with all the fuss over the spring mating migration, there’s nary a hue and cry over what happens when they’re all done in the summer and it’s time to go back to wherever they came from.

Which brings me to the other day, when dozens of little fellows were found in the parking lots of a plaza in north Ajax, all blissfully unaware of the dangers as they hopped their way from the pond. All was good, in fact, until we got to the high traffic areas and we started to see the bodies.

The things they do for love, huh?

Safe travels, little toads.

While I’m on the subject of cute little critters, I saw a budgie on Highway 2 in Ajax, just the day after the toad episode.

For a second I thought I was back in Australia, where these brightly coloured birds hail from. This guy was scratching about in the dirt in the middle of the road and as we were stuck in a traffic jam, I got out and cautiously approached her with the hope of, I dunno, seeing her fly onto my hand, I guess.

No such luck, as she flew away to the apparent safety of the parklands on the south side of the road.

A true bird in a gilded cage, she was somebody’s pet and her chances for survival are slim. But I’m hoping for the best.

The beautiful Budgie

And finally, speaking of all creatures great and small, I come to my personal nemesis in nature: the wasp.

I have been stung dozens of times by wasps in my day, including twice on the lip (once in front of the National Monument in Washington, D.C.), so it’s obvious we don’t get along.

Most of the incidents occurred in my childhood, but I have been plagued by the little bastards in my grown-up days as well.

Today was the latest encounter.

We were beautifying the landscaping beside the drive-thru at a Tim Horton`s in Pickering when I felt the first sting on my wrist. In the second it took me to realize what was happening I noticed three things. One: I`m standing on top of a wasp nest; two: there are a couple of dozen wasps angrily buzzing around my legs (can you blame them?); and three: I got stung again. This time behind the knee, and it swelled up pretty quick.

Little bastards. Lucky I’m not allergic.

The Bastard Wasp

(While this is going on I see a couple of dudes having a good giggle in their car in the drive-thru. They threw up the windows pretty damn quick, though.)

Not counting the wasp which came between the back of my hand and the window in the truck on the way back to the shop, I do get my own back on occasion, however.

My favourite wasp story happened 20 or so years ago in Etobicoke. There was a nest on the outside of my two-storey walk-up that I didn’t think much about until I entered the apartment one summer’s day to find several hundred wasps, having burrowed their way through the walls, making themselves right at home.

What to do? My fiancee headed straight down the stairs to safety so it was up to me to be strong and do something.

Can't say my bookie would have given me great odds, but I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and waded into the fray. Thuuup. Thuuup. Thuuup. And so on, until the bag was full of angry wasps and our apartment was safe once again.

And I only got stung twice.

Little bastards.