Earth Almanac: March/April 2009

Get Along, Little Toadies

The “dogies” you hear bawling now in low, wet places from Montana to western Iowa and down to Louisiana aren’t necessarily bovines. If they sound a little hoarse and if they start up at dusk or in the dark, they’re probably Woodhouse’s toads. Named for the 19th century explorer, surgeon, and naturalist Samuel Woodhouse, who collected the first one, these large amphibians can be distinguished from the more familiar American toad by their white bellies. After a hard spring or summer rain they move into puddles, where the males inflate their balloonlike vocal sacs and call in females. A female will lay as many as 28,000 eggs held together in long, intertwined strands that glue themselves to submerged objects and plants. Because breeding puddles can be short-lived, tadpoles must emerge from eggs and transform to adults quickly—sometimes in as little as two weeks. The skin of Woodhouse’s toads has the dual function of allowing them to take on water (through the rich capillary system on their bellies) and exuding a toxic mucus that repels most predators, though it doesn’t appear to lessen their popularity with hognose snakes. Like most other members of the toad and frog order, Woodhouse’s toads are voracious predators, eating virtually anything that moves and isn’t too big to stuff into their mouths. Look for them hunting insects under lights.

Killer Breeches 

In moist, rich, undisturbed woodlands throughout most of the eastern half of the United States and in the Pacific Northwest, a vast army of ancient, elfin soldiers have hung out their pantaloons to dry. Or so it seems in early spring, when Dutchman’s breeches, a perennial herb in the poppy family, bear their double-spurred white flowers. From naked stalks that can stretch 10 inches from beds of fernlike leaves, they nod in the April winds. Because honeybees’ proboscises are too short to reach the nectar, pollination is left to bumblebees. Ants distribute seeds, carrying them to their nests to feed on the attached fruit. It’s best to admire Dutchman’s breeches from afar because they’re so poisonous that even touching one can cause dermatitis. And unless you’re a sheep, eating the plant will cause you to convulse, vomit, and stagger (hence its alternate name “staggerweed”). Most victims, however, are cows, and if you happen to be worried about yours, the University of Illinois Veterinary Medicine Library suggests that you “let sheep graze infested pastures first.”