There is a commercial on the CBC that has been airing off and on since I was little. It portrays, documentary style, the life and times of the North American House Hippo.
The House Hippo, the documentary states, is a shy creature who resides in the back of messy closets. Though timid, it will defend itself if provoked! It makes nests for it's young out of soft things such as missing socks and dryer lint, as it sleeps for up to sixteen hours a day. It's favourite food is the crumbs of peanut butter on toast, and this knowledge is illustrated by a scene of a tiny hippo sneaking away from the kitchen, minute peanut buttery hippo foot prints following behind it.
The commercial warns you not to approach a House Hippo if you find one and portrays a small hippo bearing it's teeth. There is even a shot of a House Hippo family, complete with mouse-sized Hippo babies. I think that's my favourite scene.
All of this to prove....that you can't always believe what you watch on TV. That is the entire point of the commercial. It has been modified to include internet during it's latest incarnation. I love this commerical. It is in my own opinion truly brilliant. A classic.
So it is with the knowledge of the North American House Hippo that I arrive in El Salvador and discover the Central American House Toad.
This docile creature makes itself scarce during the heat of the day and so can come as quite a surprise to the unaware sleepy human travelling to the toilets in the middle of the night. The first time I met a House Toad, the introduction consisted of my big toe and the toad's squishy body. As we connected, the frightened toad scuttered away, fairly running for it's life.
Now, if the toad had hopped I would have been rather unaffected since I've never been afraid of frogs but because it scuttered, (which is a thing that only vicious insects, snakes, and the occasional tiny monster do), I completely freaked out.
From that night on I have carried a small light with me and diligently scan the floor during my evening sojourns.
Once when entering a bathroom I accidentally caught a toad in the door while closing it absently behind me. The toad squeeked a few times and then hid itself in the corner behind the toilet, nose pressed into the wall. It squeeked! Like a mouse! I panicked- I hadn't meant to harm the toad, which upset me, but the squeeking really unnerved me.
I spent at least 20 minutes in the bathroom, attempting to talk down the toad who was panting in fear. The toad kept its nose buried in the corner, firmly believing I'm sure that because it couldn't see me, there was a reasonable chance that I couldn't see it.
I finally realized that my presence and the attempted shoeing with various items (the waste basket, the bottle of hand soap, even foot stomping) were not going to work to herd the toad back out the door to freedom. I decided to leave the toad in peace and find a different bathroom.
A few nights later I found a larger toad in the same bathroom (or perhaps toads grow very quickly?). I was about five rums into my evening and decided I didn't mind sharing a bathroom with a toad at all. In fact, I felt rather comforted by it's presence. We had a lovely conversation, the toad and I. It turns out that Central American House Toads are very good listeners.
This toad seemed to be completely unperturbed by me, too. It was really a lovely exchange, woman and beast; House Toad and House Guest.
The other morning I was lying in bed wondering if I might end up showering with a toad that day, when a thought dawned on me. These resident scuttering creatures likely survive off of the multitude of small bugs that also call the main building of the Eldorado home. The toads probably have a veritable feast of bugs. Maybe that's why they grow so quickly?
This realization about the bugs immediately moved the toad's status in my mind from cute and intriguing to the enemy of my enemy, also known as my friend.
Bugs are my nemesis. Well- that is not entirely true. The word “bugs” brings to my mind images of slow plump catapillars, pretty butterflies, the delightful lightening bugs that flutter about at night around the hotel gardens with their built in Petzls. These fun little creatures are “bugs”.
What I fear are insects. Insects constitute the type of evil that gets off on snacking on me. The ones that suck my blood like sneaky winged vampires. The mini demons that hide when I have the light in my room switched on, then (I just know they do this) crawl slowly, menacingly, towards my bed when it's dark.
I lay awake some nights petrified of these insects that want to eat me. The spiders as big as my face that plan to smother the air from my lungs and then nibble on my eyes. The mosquitoes who carry West Nile that want to suckle from my blood stream. The scorpion whose entire “M.O.” is to poison me with his nasty little stinger.
Realizing that the toad was on my side, literally eating my enemy for breakfast, moved the whole species from adorable to hero very quickly in my mind. I now wanted to defend the toad against all harm. I wanted to help the toad, tell it of my gratitude.
So now I exercise the utmost care. I always check around and behind doors before I carelessly swing them open or shut. I search behind toilets and in shower stalls every time I use a bathroom (even if I am only washing my hands) as I do not want to startle a napping toad. Under sinks, beneath shelves. I am very diligent.
On my way to the bathroom in the wee hours of morning or late at night I have developed a shuffle-walk technique which I believe to be proving effective. At least, I haven't kicked any toads lately.
It has come to me that the toad likely is more fond of snacking on the little bugs in my room- the ones I am not so fearful of, and perhaps is less into munching the insects I am afraid of. The toad is probably afraid of those insects too, seeing as how those insects are larger than most of the toads I have seen.
Maybe that is why the larger toads are so serene. They have conquered the great insects and won, chomp, chomp....they have nothing to fear from a mere mortal human!
Never the less, I am much happier believing that the average toad nightly slays my foe. We all like to look to a hero, after all. Mine is the Central American House Toad.
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