Two nights ago our lovelorn toads were singing the rain their lustiest come-hither songs. I counted seven but knew there were others. Yesterday three men came and opened our pool. To do that they first drained off the water that covered the pool cover with a nasty soup that harbored crane fly larvae and toads that tucked their secrets out of sight.
The men cleaned off the cover and put it in storage before attending to the clean water beneath and refilling the top few inches of the pool. Now the water is nice and clear again and waiting for us to enjoy our first dip once the weather warms up enough.
The toads? The guys said they never saw any. They either sucked them up in the large hose they use to transfer the water downhill into the lake or they picked them up in their wide-mouthed leaf scoopers they use to gather up accumulated debris. The toads either escaped through the hose — a rather daring-do deed indeed — or they met an untimely fate stuffed in large cans packed in among the leaves. If the latter, I can only say, with a man’s logic and sense of humor, at least they went out happy.