It seems that toads have not yet come to terms with the modern world. In late February and March, they follow their natural inclination to return to their breeding areas, usually en masse, and often via a roadway. . .
As you drive to your cosy abode,
Keep an eye out for me. I’m a toad
With an urge to respond
To the call of my pond
On the opposite side of the road.
Every year, on a cold, damp, dark night,
We expatriate toads all take flight
As, all danger unheeding,
We rush to get breeding.
It’s our nature – we’re not very bright.
In the past, many brave toads have died,
For the road we must cross is so wide;
And with sex on our mind
We are quite traffic-blind
As we hop to that far-distant side.
Perhaps we should set up a school
To teach toads this one golden rule:
“If you’re not a fast hopper
You’ll soon come a cropper,
For life on the road can be cruel”.