“Pickled Toads? No, Just Scientists”
By Charles S. Kroter
Published in “Scientific American”, pages 13-14. December 16, 2002.

There is a question on the collective mind of the scientific community. It is: how many beers can the average scientist drink and still perform basic research?

In the spirit of increasing knowledge, my colleagues and I sat down with a couple of six-packs and started counting. When we couldn’t remember if seven was followed by green or holly-jolly, we knew we were sloppier than soup sandwiches.

We then addressed the question that would be on the aforementioned mind if it wasn’t so saturated with alcohol: can toads hear? Actually, none of us really cared at that point. There were still unopened cans on the table. Whichever of us was still speaking intelligibly moved that our experiment be cheap, fast, and easy. Someone else suggested we study women instead of toads, but he passed out, so the motion was ignored.

Anyway, someone found three test subjects. The first was an Eastern American Toad, Bufo americanus americanus. It was two-and-a-half inches long, mottled brown in color.

The second was Toad, Royal Mushroom Retainer, friend of the Nintendo hero Mario. He was two-and-a-half feet tall and wore a strange white hat with red spots.

The last test subject is also known as Toad, given name Todd Tolenski. He was kind of dirty, smelled like a swamp, and is a sworn enemy of the Marvel Comics hero team, the X-Men.

The three subjects were randomly assigned the code letter A, B, or C, and placed in curtained cubicles. They were then shown a set of automated questions presented in a variety of formats. Responses were recorded by a blind observer, who for some reason was still fairly sober.

First question: on TV screens, the three subjects were shown a photograph of a mosquito. Touch pads on their desks then showed the same picture along with a photograph of a banana. A: touches the mosquito; B: touches the mosquito; C: touches the mosquito (a strange green slime drips from beneath the curtain).

Second question: the screen showed “Touch the toad.” The pad presented a photograph of a toad, and a photograph of a human. A: no response; B: touches the human; C: no response (a laugh is heard).

Third question: a recorded voice said, “Touch the tree.” The pad presented a photograph of an oak tree, and a photograph of the head scientist’s youngest child lying on a bear rug, completely na-

Sorry. There was an error in the test. The study team estimates that this mix-up did not affect the final results. A: touches the tree (a shout of “Okay!” is heard); B: touches the tree, touches the unintended picture a fraction of a second later; C: touches the tree (“Yo, are we done yet? When do I get paid?”).

Final results: Subject A produced two correct responses, and one no response. Subject B gave one correct response, one incorrect response, and one noncommittal response. Subject C produced two correct responses, one no response, and some really gross slime.

The subjects performed best on the picture test, and worst on the written command. All responded correctly (on the first try, at least) to the spoken prompt. This indicates that toads cannot read, but can see and hear.

Of the three subjects, B was the most cooperative, responding to every question. This subject was revealed to be the Eastern American Toad. It had no comment after the experiment. Subject A, the Royal Mushroom Retainer, accepted the twenty dollars promised in the newspaper ad, and gave the receptionist a glowing yellow star with eyes. We are still investigating the significance of this strange token. Subject C, Mr. Tolenski, took his payment, said something about buying a present for ‘Wanda’, and hopped out the door.

Results of the bigger experiment were inconclusive, as we could not agree on the actual number of beers consumed by any one individual.

Mr. Kroter:

Your experiment is stupid. Your results are stupid. Your intelligence is stupid. You have proven nothing, except maybe those rumors that you bribed your way through college.

First, your subjects are ill-chosen. Some video game character who randomly hands out useful items, and a teenager with lame super-powers and bad hygiene are no basis for a scientific experiment.

Second, you have not allowed for random chance. Three subjects answering three questions in one trial means absolutely nothing. You asked only one question in each format, and your survey of toads has yet to be duplicated by respectable researchers. I think your so-called investigation was no more than a study in what kind of pseudo-scientific nonsense the government will fund.

I would, however, like to further study that photograph of your daughter, and any similar pictures you may happen to have lying about. Perhaps we could meet for a few drinks, and take your co-worker’s suggestion.

I showed the essay to my psychiatrist, who added another response to the original article.

January 16, 2003

Dear Dr. Kroter:

I found your article in last month’s "Scientific American" quite misleading and an insult to our large and distinguished membership. The great state of Georgia provides an ideal habitat to no fewer than 40 species of toad, each with a distinct vocal pattern. Any imbecile would realize that the ability of one species, e.g. Hyla gratiosa, to respond to the uttering of another, say, a Bufo terrestris would be no more likely than a second-rate scientist like yourself comprehending Mandarin.

Clearly you know nothing about toad vocalizations and have nothing to contribute. For your edification, I refer you to our website, http://wwknapp.home.mindspring.com/GAFrog.Toad.html so that you may begin to educate yourself about sonographic patterns in our region.

It is appalling that a fine journal such as SA would publish such slime.

Yours truly,

Mrs. Rana Capito
President emeritus
Georgia Toad Society
 

Back