Toads

A few years ago the fence between my front and side garden collapsed. Gradually I created a burglar resistant replacement barrier from thorny hawthorn and rose prunings, densely leaved shrubs and other large pieces of plant material. In due course, ivy and honeysuckle rambled over the 8 ft pile to give it the semblance of a living hedge.
Last week, for reasons that I cannot now recollect, I decided to exchange this somewhat unorthodox garden feature with two 6' x 4' garden sheds set sideways on, united by a section of conventional fencing. In the process of removing the old material to a bonfire site I found an abandoned robin's nest, five foot above ground level built into a discarded Christmas tree. Inside, I discovered a large toad.
Since the start of a six year frog plague, at last I hope over, my garden has become home to an increasing number of flat toads, all closely resembling chunks of black mudstone.
I have always thought of toads as solitary creatures but recently when I lifted a brick pressed into the soil,I uncovered a cluster five toads, two full grown and three very small. I would have taken them for a family if I didn't know that toads desert their offspring once the males have fertilised the spawn. This ununusual sociability was probably a sympom of overcrowding. The toad I found in the nest probably couldn't find privacy at ground level.