Part of Bali’s charm for me are the little surprises
that punctuate the days. Being greeted by name by the
tiny school children outside my gate. Fragrant offerings
on my computer. The constant parade of birds, bugs,
butterflies and reptiles through my garden.
So I was intrigued to return from shopping one day to find
a large plastic supermarket bag hanging on the pantry doorknob,
pulsing slightly and emitting strange noises. Upon examination
it proved to contain about two kilograms of copulating toads.
I went looking for Wayan hoping for an explanation and found
her in the laundry.
“Wayan, there is a bag of toads in the kitchen,”
I announced.
“Yes, Ibu,” she agreed, hanging up the towels
to dry.
Apparently the topic did not merit discussion. I went
back to have another look. They were still at it, hunched
in unlovely pairs on top of one another and glaring at me
from indignant little black eyes.
It transpired that a friend of mine with a large garden had
found the nocturnal cacophony disturbing. She’d
asked her gardener to collect all the toads he could find
and prepare them for transmigration. Nyoman happened
to come along just then on an errand and was entrusted with
the cargo of amphibians. He was instructed to release
them in some convenient waterway, but he had brought them
home instead. “They eat a lot of mosquitoes,”
he pointed out.
I quite like frog noises in the night and we have a lot of
mosquitoes. When I suggested that we keep them, Nyoman
happily distributed them around the garden and ponds.
But the toads immediately disappeared and the nights were
even more quiet than usual. Apart from discovering one
grumpy newcomer inside a shoe and another in the shower, they
all seem to have vanished. I called Don Wells, Ubud’s
authority on reptiles, amphibians, birds and bugs. Where
had two kilograms of toads gone?
It seems the Bufo melanosticus or Asian Spiny Toad is a shy
creature, preferring to spend daylight hours in burrows or
under piles of leaves. At night they roam to hunt.
Tracking movements in the dark, they snap up anything that
moves, as long as the size is manageable. Toads have been
observed to swallow scorpions and centipedes even while the
desperate prey is in the act of stinging them. Baby
mice, reptiles and snakes, worms, spiders and all kinds of
garden pests are devoured by these eating machines, which
spit out only the hairy, poisonous caterpillars.
The toad is not a pretty animal. These ones are a mustardy
greenish brown colour, depending on their mood, and liberally
peppered with black. They are lumpish and have little spines
on their thick skins. Another unattractive feature is
the powerful toxin they exude from glands in the neck and
the back legs which is reputed to be as unpleasant as that
of a green pit viper. This effective defense mechanism
causes predators to drop the toad instantly and retreat, foaming
at the mouth. Nyoman reports that after handling these
toads, people will sometimes break out in a rash around the
lips. Unsurprisingly, they have no natural enemies except
the Javanese spitting cobra.
Sometimes I encounter a toad while gardening, and it’s
always amazing to witness how invisible quite a large toad
can be while sitting on a pile of mulch just a few inches
away. A couple of times I’ve inadvertently trod
on one in the dark. As my toes curl around the flaccid
shape a signal races to my brain wondering, “What the
hell is that???” I’m sure the toad feels
the same. We part company a split second later
with great mutual relief. I remember one specimen in
the highlands of Malaysia many years ago that was so large
I thought it was an oversized lawn ornament… until a
single giant leap took it into the jungle five metres away.
At the end of the rainy season when the temperature and barometric
pressure are just right, Bufo melanosticus begins to get that
gleam in its eyes. This is when the males crank up the
volume on the love songs, filling the night with loud croaks
and honks. Romantically inclined females are irresistibly
drawn to the music, hopping through the wet grass toward the
torrid affair that awaits them. Beauty is indeed in
the eye of the beholder. They pair up with shameless haste
on a first-come, first served basis, with the male atop the
much larger female. The males develop a thickened thumb
at breeding time and use this to massage the female and stimulate
her to spawn. Sometimes this can take several days.
We still have a lot to learn from the animal world.
A few days later, strings of black eggs can be seen suspended
between pond plants and a little while afterward they hatch
into tadpoles. This is party time for the fish, snakes
and birds that consume them in huge numbers. It’s
a wonder any survive to serenade me through the next rainy
season.
Why were the captured toads having an unseasonal orgy in a
Delta shopping bag? According to Don, when a large
number of toads are gathered together the excitement triggers
the appropriate hormones and mass breeding takes place, barometric
pressure notwithstanding. And they were probably that
interesting mustard colour because they were too hot, he added
accusingly as if it was all my fault.
Toads play a critical role in Bali’s food chain, helping
to control many pests in the rice fields. The pesticides
used in the rice and vegetable fields kill off the toad’s
natural prey. In conditions when there are not enough
insects the females don’t develop eggs, so the toad
populations are declining in Bali and elsewhere.
It’s been a couple of weeks now since we released the
toads in the garden. It seems that tonight the temperature
and barometric pressure are perfect for toad love. The
darkness is raucous with a mounting chorus of amorous amphibians.
In my little corner of Bali at least, the show will go on.
