The Seventeenth-Foot Toad
Workers digging a cistern in Tacoma discover a living toad buried seventeen feet deep in hardpan.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
Henry Henderson and his sister, who reside in the St. Angelo addition, believe they have a toad that is many thousand years old. A hole for a cistern, seventeen feet deep, is being dug near their house. Yesterday at the depth of seventeen feet the diggers came upon a toad, the color of hardpan and about the size of an egg. It seemed puffed up and dormant. In about five minutes it began to move about and soon became quite lively. It opened its eyes sleepily for a time and then began to realize that there were plenty of flies, but failed to catch any. However, when a fly was put into the bottle in which the toad was placed, it at once snapped for the fly and ate it. The workmen are positive the toad could not have dropped down into the hole where they were digging. The toad's feet are unlike the feet of an ordinary toad. They are long and slender, and the nails are very much of the shape and form of cat's claws.
“The toad's feet are unlike the feet of an ordinary toad. They are long and slender, and the nails are very much of the shape and form of cat's claws.”
This 'toad in the hole' story was a popular genre of folklore in 19th-century newspapers, often reflecting the period's wonder at geological time and the mysterious depths beneath the surface of growing cities. While geologically impossible, it captures a moment of curiosity in the expansion of Tacoma's St. Angelo addition.
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