A myriad of tree frogs serenade us in the evenings, but we rarely see any. This fingernail-size critter was impossible to miss against a brown plastic trash can:
It sat tucked nose-up inside the handle until I loomed overhead, whereupon the edge seemed better. It eventually jumped to the ground, dozens of body lengths below, and hopped off into the leaf litter behind the cans.
We wished it well and expect to hear from it during the rest of the season.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 
We have a few. Much more aesthetically pleasing than toads.
All those lady toads would like a word with you …