Making Friends with the Animals

Tuesday morning I was sitting on the front porch reading a Gerald Durrell book, enjoying the fresh morning and waiting for Sameera to pick me up for the survey. If you have never read Gerald Durrell, I strongly suggest a trip to the library. His books recount his adventures from the 1950s while he was collecting animals from Africa, Asia, and South America for his zoo in England. As I was reading his book that morning, "The Bafut Beagles," I enjoyed my own heart warming encounter with nature.

Before sitting down to read, I had put my hiking boots on and had been forced to evict one of our toad friends in the process. He looked slightly offended and quite put off. I tried to apologize for interrupting his morning nap, but he turned his back on me and hopped away. Feeling snubbed, I sat down to my book and tried to ignore my own hurt feelings.

As I was reading, I heard a soft rustling coming from my backpack, which was leaning against the chair at my feet. I looked down to find none another than my toady friend scaling the slope of my backpack. He eventually made it to the top of my bag, which was level with my knee, and sat there quietly contemplating his next move. To my surprise and great delight, he hopped onto my knee! I sat motionless, barely breathing for fear that I might scare him away. He then started to hop up my leg and over my lap until he landed on my stomach. I was trying so hard to keep from shaking with laughter because not only were his little toes tickling me, but he was wearing the most solemn expression. He turned his quizzical gaze to me, his throat softly bobbing up and down, and cocked his head. For the next 2-3 minutes neither of us moved, but simply stared at one another. I am so glad no one showed up during this interval because it must have looked quite strange - almost as if I were having a conversation with this toad. Finally, he decided he had stayed long enough and hopped back to my leg, onto the backpack, and to the floor.

For some time after, he jumped around the patio searching in vain for a suitable place to rest out of the sun. It was obvious I had removed him from his ideal location and every once in a while he would shoot me a reproachful look. I was starting to feel slightly guilty, so I knelt down and offered him my running shoe, which he gladly accepted.