The last thing the Weaver expected to see while she was cleaning out a window well was someone looking back at her. Amidst the leaves and pine duff, a handsome and dignified toad was at the bottom, effectively trapped in a prison of his own making:
I took him out for his formal portrait:
Then I placed him in a hopefully more sustainable habitat: a quickly constructed ‘toad house’, situated in a sheltered back corner of the garden:
With a small pool nearby, our new friend should have all he requires for a happy toady existence, excepting, perhaps, for a Mrs. Toad (or vice-versa.) I’ll let nature take its course on that issue.