About four years ago I began to feed a toad that had found its way into
the conservatory. He sat daily in one place expecting his meal-worms,
and when he had snapped them up with his curious sticky tongue he would
retire to some hidden nook and be invisible until the next day. Each
winter he has hibernated as soon as cold weather began, and reappeared
with the spring sunshine. Sancho is now a very portly, and most amusing
pet.
Few people would guess how much character can be shown by even this
poor, despised reptile when treated with real kindness, regularly fed,
and never frightened or abused. I will describe what happens when Sancho
is "shown to the public."
Some meal-worms are thrown on the pavement near him. He sits for a time
gazing at them with his gold-rimmed eyes; then slowly creeps towards
them, fixes his eyes on one of the worms bends his head a little towards
it, then one hears a snap and the prey is taken. The act is so rapid
that one can never see the tongue that has picked up the
meal-worm--simply it is gone! The toad's eyes are tightly shut whilst he
swallows the morsel, and then he turns to pick up a second. Now is the
time to approach him from behind and begin to stroke his leathery, warty
skin. In a few seconds he is in a state of perfect ecstasy, his front
legs are stretched out, he leans first to one side, then to the other,
to guide the hand where he wishes to be stroked, and at last uplifts his
ponderous body until he is an inch or more from the ground, supported on
the tips of his toes. No description can do justice to the absurdity of
the attitude, and the rapture seems so intense that food is forgotten,
and so long as Sancho can get any one to stroke him, he is quite
oblivious to all around him, although at other times he will hop away as
soon as any stranger approaches.
Sancho will not, as yet, take anything from my hand, but I hope to bring
him to that state of tameness in course of time.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: ROMAN SNAILS.]