The female is a little larger and less dramatically lined, but as I was lying on the stone bench a week ago, hoping my back would stop providing such exciting shivery sensations after I used a shovel instead of a pitchfork to spread leaf mulch, a pair of skinks rippled down the carriage house wall, paused briefly to stare at this largeish mammal hulking in their environment, and then crossed to the dripstone beside the cabin for a drink. I don't know what skink mating rituals look like, but to my eyes they definitely seemed to be hangin' out.
She was kind enough to let me stalk her for pictures, but since I left the camera on the ottoman, I'm stuck with grainy cell phone shots instead of Megan's clear, precisely framed photographs, which are what usually appear here.
Even pixellated, she's a pretty creature.
A similarly bold vertebrate startled me early in the mulching process by rustling rapidly past my hand. I withdrew quickly, thinking it might be a rat destined to be afternoon tea for a Herbert (I like rats in theory, but know better than to get close to wild ones in practice), and examined the ground -- to find this fellow!
Based primarily on location and lack of distinct cranial ridges (source), I'm going to tentatively identify him as a Fowler's toad, Bufo fowleri.
He seems to live under one of the rocks of the retaining wall behind Quadrant II (where the tomatoes and marigolds will hopefully be giving way to black cohosh and milkweed next year), so I hope he likes leaf mulch.
Come to think of it, one of the Herberts will still probably eat him if he goes too close to the cabin, but here's hoping he'll thrive.
Come to think of it, one of the Herberts will still probably eat him if he goes too close to the cabin, but here's hoping he'll thrive.
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