29 '* ^"'^^ ^'"^ ^"^® 



who have come forth from somewhere to celebrate their 

 pervigihum veneris. The yoimg are not quite so scarce 

 dming a few months after they are hatched, but I count 

 myself very lucky to have found my specimen by accident 

 near a well-watered trench around some shrubs a few feet 

 away from my door. For one thing this proves — and even 

 this has not been recorded in the almost nonexistent scien- 

 tific literature about the Sonoran spadefoot — that at least 

 the very young toadlets do not always dig in immediately. 

 For another thing, I have been able to observe his be- 

 havior during the months when his fellows seem to have 

 disappeared from the earth. And that, it appears, has sel- 

 dom been done. 



I feel certain that I know almost to a day how old he is. 

 One late afternoon last July we had our first real thunder- 

 shower and I said to myself, "Tonight the spadefoots will 

 sing." And of course they did. Next day I searched the 

 area where I had seen them, hoping to find at least one 

 rain puddle which had lasted long enough to hatch the 

 eggs. I knew from previous experience that they are often 

 laid in such puddles and require only about twenty-four 

 hours to hatch. Less lucky than I had been on my first 

 summer, I found none. But some there must have been, 

 because here is the young toad apparently very comfort- 

 able indeed in the jar on my desk. After that July night 

 there were at least three heavier showers, but the spade- 

 foots, having had their night, put in no second appearance. 



Except for his age I do not know much about my speci- 

 men. Neither, apparently, does anyone else know either 

 how he has spent his time between the days when the 

 tadpole transformed itself with remarkable celerity into a 

 toad and the time when I took charge, or how, had he 



