Sonoran Sue’s Desert Survival Tips: CATCH & RELEASE

Dear Sonoran Sue,

The rains last night were glorious—but this morning, I found what looked like a greased-up baked potato with eyelids giving me the stink-eye from my patio. A neighbor said it’s a Sonoran Desert toad and warned me not to let my dog near it. Later, I saw at least a dozen of them out on the golf course during my moonlight stroll (yes, I still do those). What do I do if one gets onto my patio?

Hopelessly Freaked Out

Dear Freaked, Defender of Desert Patios Everywhere,

Ah yes… the Sonoran Desert Toad—the chubby, glistening swamp nugget you never asked for, but now must cohabitate with like your freshman-year roommate who stole your snacks and practiced the ukulele at midnight. They’re North America’s largest native toad, weighing nearly 2 pounds and looking like they just crawled out of the devil’s crock pot—fat, moist, and slightly judgmental.

So what do you do when one plops into your garage, patio, or (heaven forbid) your pool?

TOAD RELOCATION: Because Eviction Notices Don’t Work on Amphibians

Choose Your Equipment.

Forget fancy gear—you already own everything you need. Dustpan, spatula, oversized souvenir margarita glass from Cabo 2003—the one that came with a side of regret and a blurry tattoo. Just don’t use your bare hands unless you enjoy tingling palms and the lingering scent of reptilian remorse.

Channel Your Inner Toad Uber.

Pick it up gently (think: grand baby, not sack of potatoes) and relocate it at least 50 feet from your home. But where you drop it off matters.

Toad drop zones I recommend:

– The Natural Wash (aka Desert Toad Club Med)

– Behind the HOA Office (but only if you’re feeling petty)

– Under Your Ex’s Mesquite Tree (for poetic justice)

– Anywhere shady and damp

Avoid storm drains, mailboxes, and your neighbor’s Flower beds—unless you’re still trying to escalate the “trash can lid” incident from last month.

Transportation Options.

Your golf cart is an ideal toad transporter—but please, secure the passenger. Last week, one jumped off mid-ride and caused a three-cart pile-up by the pickleball courts. If you’re cruising under 6 MPH with a toad in tow, that’s not a commute—that’s a senior safari. Some residents have tried Tupperware with air holes, old shoeboxes, or even the salad spinner. That’s a hard no from me. There’s just too much temptation to test Newton’s Laws with a two-pound amphibian and a spin cycle. Whatever you use, label it clearly so your husband doesn’t mistake it for leftovers. Again.

Create a Ceremonial Send-Off.

Once you’ve placed your toad back in the wild, feel free to offer a short cautionary poem.

Something like:

Beware, dear toad, if you choose to return To my senior domicile, it will cause you concern.

One slip near the pool, and it’s curtains, I’m afraid—You’ll frog-kick your way to a chlorinated grave.

So hop far away, ye moist little chap—Or wind up the star of a cautionary claptrap.

If you’ve got incense, a kazoo, or leftover Fourth of July sparklers, go ahead and make it

an event. We’re in a retirement community. This counts as entertainment.

REMEMBER:

– These toads are not attacking—they’re just large, glistening introverts with boundary

issues.

– They’re toxic to pets, so keep your dog from licking anything that resembles a slime-

covered couch cushion.

– And if you play softball, don’t practice your swing on them. Launching a toad is not “catch

and release.” It’s splat and disinfect.

Stay dry, stay calm, and choose your footwear wisely when sneaking up on a two-pound

toad. They can smell fear—and those useless inserts from your podiatrist at fifty paces.

Good luck,

Sonoran Sue, Toad Whisperer

—Still roaming my flower garden with a disposable salad spinner and a prayer.

♣♠♥

Susan Kravitz is the creator of the Comedy Klatch performing troop in SaddleBrooke. Her crew will be performing several skits in Fall of 2025. Click here for the website.