I was severely traumatised during the removal of the compost from the strawberry area. As I drew out my fork, I found I had impaled a toad on one of the prongs. The poor thing was still alive. It was horribly distressing. The last thing I want to be is a toad murderer, as they are so useful for keeping the slug population under control. Also I consider them to be personally sacred, as the frog is one of the animals on my medicine wheel, and they are related species.
I had to steel myself, and with a gloved hand I gently removed the poor creature from the jaws of doom. I chose a dignified resting place, by the entrance to the small plot next to a cyclamen in bloom. It reminded me of how ancient people used to sacrifice creatures, and sometimes humans, and bury them at the threshold for psychic protection. Their spirit would always be there in the astral world, guarding the doorway.
I expected the body of the toad to be consumed in the night, but the next day it was still there, and continued to remain there for as long as it took for its body to be reclaimed by the earth.
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