Vertically elliptical during the daylight hours, the pupils of the Great Basin spadefoot are almost round on dark nights.
It has always amazed me how some relatively common—or even abundant—species can evade all efforts to find them. Or at least they evade almost all efforts. I encountered such difficulty when I was trying to photo the Great Basin spadefoot, Spea intermontana. Of course the fact that I lived in Florida, a couple of thousand miles east of the range of this taxon added significantly to the difficulty I had in encountering it.

Without going into a lot of the painful details, I’ll just say that on my first 3 attempts (about 13,000 miles of travel), I failed. Then on another trip, after Gary and I returned to the mainland from the Channel Islands (CA), I decided I REALLY wanted to succeed in finding this anuran. Gary knew a couple of locals only a couple of hundred miles away, so we got in the car, drove to the areas—and failed--again! Then Gary mentioned that he knew of a place in Washington, very near the Canadian border, where these critters would be calling—guaranteed. Lets see now. We were south of Los Angeles and the toads were east of Seattle—that was only about 1500 miles. So off we went. The good part for Gary was that he lived in Seattle. The bad part for me was that from Seattle I would have to drive another 3,000 miles diagonally across the USA. Awwww, what the heck. It was only gasoline, time---and as Patti later reminded me, money.

But as it turned out the spadefoots were out and calling in a vast sandy area that was still holding many pools of rainwater. And I finally—after 14,500 miles of trying—actually photographed them. But now I can’t remember why it was so very important to me(LOL).