“Monster” Toads Invade Queensland, New South Wales

“Monster” Toads Invade Queensland, New South Wales

Insight into one of Australia's most invasive species.
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Considered one of the most successful invasive species in all of Australia, The Cane Toad (rhinella marina) has gained a notorious reputation for spreading its species around Queensland and NSW like wildfire. Sources such as Cane Toads in OZ believe that the cane toad population can spread at an alarming rate of 40 to 60 km a year, the fastest rate of any toad or frog species in the world.

These ‘Monster’ toads lack a predator in Australia and will consume virtually anything that can fit into its mouth. They grow to about 6 inches, weigh as many as 4 pounds, and have two poisonous glands over their shoulders. Mates sexually reproduce through Amplexus, when the male clings on to the female as tight as he can and begins injecting the sperm into the eggs, usually done in water. Females can produce up to 30,000 eggs in a year; and with no predator, the chances of the tadpoles surviving to adulthood are astoundingly high. The males sexual drive is very strong. A moment in “Cane Toads: An Unnatural History” showed a male in Amplexus... with a road-killed female. A film interviewer quoted of how “Strange that the male should be so intent as to fail to notice the female's condition”.

The Cane Toad was introduced to Australia from Hawaii by a group of scientists in 1935 with hopes to control the beetle grub population on the cane fields of NSW and Northeast Queensland. This was a very important economic problem. Sugar Cane is Australia’s most valuable and largest exporting crop in the country (and Continent *wink wink*) and a solution needed to be found very quickly. Since DDT at the time was not invented, the Cane Toad seemed to be the right move for many scientists, except for one person.

An entomologist by the name of W.W Frogatt believed that the invasive species would be a menace to the people and the wildlife of Australia, and almost halted the process of introducing the Cane Toad into Australia. Little did the region know that the “monster” would reign. The 3,000 cane toads introduced into the wild exponentially grew into the millions.Cane toads were everywhere. They were found on streets, in homes, around parks, city sidewalks and any possible pond you can think of in Northeast Australia.

The Cane Toads, ironically, couldn’t eat the grubs on the cane. The habitat was useless to the toads and their inability to climb the stalks of a cane for food would not help it survive. Many people have argued whether the Cane Toad should be a “Pet” or “Pest”. Some residents of the Area take a liking to the Cane Toad. One woman in “Cane Toad: An Unnatural History” spoke about keeping her pet toads safe and if anyone had tried to hurt them, she warned that “there’d be a lot of noise and they’d realize I wasn’t a lady”. One Resident is actually addicted to the cane toad poison and smokes it daily… yes, he SMOKES CANE TOAD. Others have done everything in their power to get rid of them. Whether it was government spending in order to dispose of them, or just simply running them over on the road. All in all, the Cane Toad issue may never be solved.

It’s very difficult to eradicate a species that covers 60,000 km of the Northeast Coast. However, more and more people are now aware of the dangers of invasive species and will conduct further research on how to stop invasive animals like the “Monster” Cane Toad and protect the habitats of other wildlife.

Cover Image Credit: theesazmataz on Instagram

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The Potomac Urges Me To Keep Going

A simple story about how and why the Potomac River brings me emotional clarity.

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It's easy to take the simple things for granted. We tell ourselves that life is moving too fast to give them another thought. We are always thinking about what comes next. We can't appreciate what's directly in front of us because we are focused on what's in our future. Sometimes you need to snap back to present and just savor the fact that you are alive. That's what the Potomac River does for me.

I took the Potomac River for granted at one point. I rode by the river every day and never gave it a second glance. I was always distracted, never in the present. But that changed one day.

A tangle of thoughts was running rampant inside my head.

I have a lot of self-destructive tendencies. I find it's not that hard to convince yourself that life isn't worth living if nothing is there to put it in perspective.

My mind constantly conjures up different scenarios and follows them to their ultimate conclusion: anguish. I needed something to pull myself out of my mental quagmire.

All I had to do was turn my head and look. And I mean really look. Not a passing glance but rather a gaze of intent. That's when it hit me. It only lasted a minute or so but I made that moment feel like an eternity.

My distractions of the day, no matter how significant they seemed moments ago, faded away. A feeling of evanescence washed over me, almost as if the water itself had cleansed me.

I've developed a routine now. Whenever I get on the bus, I orient myself to get the best view of the river. If I'm going to Foggy Bottom, I'll sit on the right. If I'm going back to the Mount Vernon Campus, I'll sit on the left. I'll try to sit in a seat that allows me to prop my arm against the window, and rest my cheek against my palm.

I've observed the Potomac in its many displays.

I've observed it during a clear day when the sky is devoid of clouds, and the sun radiates a far-reaching glow upon the shimmering ripples below. I can't help but envy the gulls as they glide along the surface.

I've observed it during the rain when I have to wipe the fogged glass to get a better view. I squint through the gloom, watching the rain pummel the surface, and then the river rises along the bank as if in defiance of the harsh storm. As it fades from view, I let my eyes trace the water droplets trickling down the window.

I've observed it during snowfall when the sheets of white obscure my view to the point where I can only make out a faint outline.

I've observed it during twilight when the sky is ablaze with streaks of orange, yellow, and pink as the blue begins to fade to grey.

Last of all, I've observed it during the night, when the moon is swathed in a grey veil. The row of lights running along the edge of the bridge provides a faint gleam to the obsidian water below.

It's hard to tear away my eyes from the river now. It's become a place of solace. The moment it comes into view, I'll pause whatever I'm doing. I turn up the music and let my eyes drift across the waterfront. A smile always creeps across my face. I gain a renewed sense of life.

Even on my runs, I set aside time to take in the river. I'll run across the bridge toward Arlington and then walk back, giving myself time to look out over either side of the bridge. I don't feel in a rush for once. I just let the cool air brush against my face. Sometimes my eyes begin to water. Let's just say it's not always because of the wind.

I chase surreal moments. The kind of moments you can't possibly plan for or predict. Moments where you don't want to be anywhere else. The ones that ground your sense of being. They make life truly exceptional.

Though I crave these moments, they are hard to come by. You can't force them. Their very nature does not allow it. But when I'm near the river, these moments just seem to come naturally.

I remember biking around DC when I caught sight of the Potomac. Naturally, I couldn't resist trying to get a better view. I pulled up along the river bank, startling a lone gull before dismounting. I took a few steps until I reached the edge of the water. The sun shone brilliantly in the center of the horizon.

A beam of light stretched across the water toward me, almost like a pathway to the other side of the river. I felt an urge to walk forward. I let one-foot dangle over the water, lowering it slowly to reach the glittering water below. I debated briefly whether I could walk on water. Though it sounds ridiculous, anything felt possible. Snapping back to reality, I brought my foot back up and scanned the vast blue expanse before me.

Eventually, the wind began to buffet against my left cheek, as if directing me to look right. I turned my head. A couple was walking along the bike path. They paused beneath a tree for a moment and locked eyes. Smiling, the man leaned in and whispered something in the woman's ear. As she giggled, they began to kiss softly.

While I looked on with a smile of my own, I couldn't help but wonder if there was someone else out there in the world willing to share this moment with me.

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5 Places To Hike Near Syracuse This Fall

A short list of some of the prettiest places to hike in Upstate New York to get all the fall, Instagramable views.

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One of the best things of Upstate New York is undoubtedly the fall foliage and totally Instagram worthy views. If you're looking to get away from campus for a little and enjoy all that the beautiful state of New York has to offer, look no further for a brief list of some of the most photogenic hikes and views.

1. Watkins Glen State Park

Located just a little over an hour and a half from Syracuse, Watkins Glen has picturesque waterfalls and moderate hiking trails that allow you to relish in all the beauty fall has to offer.

2. Buttermilk Falls State Park

Buttermilk Falls, located in the cute town of Ithaca, is one of the many beautiful waterfalls in the Ithaca region. A relatively easy hike, you could complete this in a day and go check out Ithaca or some of the other waterfalls nearby!

3. Bald Mountain

Located in the Adirondacks, Bald Mountain is an easy and popular hike. It gets pretty crowded during this time of year, so make sure to get there earlier if you want a peaceful hike away from lots of people.

4. Letchworth State Park

Known as the "Grand Canyon of the East," Letchworth State Park follows the Genesee River. Although the park itself is around 17 miles, there are shorter trails throughout and the views are gorgeous.

5. Fillmore Glen State Park

Within the Finger Lakes region, Fillmore Glen State Park is like a slightly smaller Watkins Glen. The waterfall is the first sight, and then you have choices of multiple different hiking trails.

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