I ran over my first cane toad late on Tuesday night. I know, it must seem kind of belated - I’ve been here for 14 months, how is this the first? It was the first with me behind the wheel. I occasionally see them hopping around downtown, I’ve spotted a couple of corpses in the park and Jack and I bonded one moonlit night over squashing together the Grand High Witch of toads, but this was all me. I was driving Traycy the Ute, which makes me feel powerful, when I spotted him sitting on the road and I knew it was my chance. I lined him up and drove right over him, feeling the bump beneath my tire. He didn’t know what hit him.
Then, because I wanted to inspect my handiwork, I backed up and jumped out of the car to have a squiz. It was about 11pm and I hoped the neighbors weren’t watching me, lit up in the headlights of the car, squatting down to inspect my very own roadkill. He looked okay - they’re hardy little fucks. I couldn’t really tell if he was dead or not, so I drove over him again, this time hearing a definite crunch ‘n’ bump.
I don’t generally think of myself as a bloodthirsty person: I like animals and I feel sick at the thought of even going fishing. But cane toads are something else. They’re continuing their westward expansion relentlessly and I feel we owe it to the country to crush as many as we can. The government here defunded Frog Watch so now it’s up to Territorians to play their part. I have an NT drivers license now so I figure that makes me licensed to kill.
The next day, the toad’s body was gone. Did something eat it? I’ll never know.