The Amphibian Avenger

Big lesbian toads and frog magic in Brazil

  

Ipanema beach - not a lot of frogs here

The first frog I find in Brazil is wearing a wizard’s hat. He belongs to the bar maid in my favourite Sunday afternoon samba spot in Santa Teresa, Rio. She’s had him for several years and he lives on her leg.   

 

The toad looked more shocked than me

Now I love frogs, but even I'd think twice about branding myself permanently with a big fat magical toad. I'm thinking this lady must love them even more than me. And she sort of does. It turns out that her tattoo is a political statement. Sapatao, meaning big toad, is a derisive term for lesbians in Brazil. The bar maid's quite rightly proud of her sexuality and so in order to reclaim the insult she wears a giant toad on her leg as a badge of honour, which I think is very cool. 

I'm tempted to make a joke here about big gay toads in big hats. But I won't. 

Proud to be a big Bufo - the super cool bar maid at my fave samba spot.

I have to come clean. Even though Brazil has the greatest number of amphibian types on the planet – a whopping 811 recorded species - my decision to visit this country has very little to do with frogs and everything to do with samba, surf and caipirinhia’s. I’ve been invited to spend Christmas in Rio with my friend Bindu, who has the world’s most enviable life. A few year's back she wisely swapped her two up two down in Brixton, South London for what I can only describe as a rock star’s mansion in the bohemian hillside suburb of Santa Teresa. She likes to joke that I've visited her more now she lives in Rio than when she lived in SW9. But who can blame me. No-one likes South London. 

It’s unlikely that my frog hunting will go much beyond the beach, Bindu’s pool and the bar’s and samba halls of Santa. But Bindu is keen to help and enters into the spirit by asking her staff (yes, her enviable life also includes staff) whether they have seen any frogs on the property. But they haven't, so I am especially pleased to meet the lesbian toad on the bar maids leg. This will have to be my big Brazilian Bufo break. 

Gratuitous photo of an amazing Brazilian frog that I didn't find during my trip - the tiny and deadly Brazil nut poison dart frog, so-called because it deposits its tadpoles in empty water-logged Brazil nut shells on the forest floor.

But maybe the wizard toad has cast some sort of spell on me, as now the frogs are seeking me out. A few nights later I get a frantic phone call from Bindu telling me to come home immediately. A tiny weeny frog has just hopped into her kitchen and into a plastic lolly-mold that just happens to be on the floor, as if he wants to be caught. Bindu is blown away by this bizarre coincidence and when I get back she’s babbling about how I must have some special magical powers to attract frogs. 

Dramatic reconstruction of Bindu calling me with captured frog in hand.  

Things are about to get even more surreal. A journalist I meet at a party asks if she can interview me about my frog mission for Globo, the national newspaper. In a city that has more murders per hour than almost any other on the planet it’s hard to imagine my frog quest being newsworthy. But perhaps I’m the equivalent of the quirky kitten-stuck-up-the-tree-end-of-the-news story. Whatever, it’s a great opportunity to warn Brazilians about Chytrid (which has been detected in wild populations here) so I happily agree. 

Disclaimer - they made me do that cheesy pose. Honest. The photo shoot was embarrassing to say the least - featuring me pouring with sweat whilst trying to look cool in 40 degree heat. I gave up and let go of all dignity in the end and just did as they told me. Hence the pose, but at least the frogs look good. 

The copy inevitably starts off with jokes about me searching for my frog prince but at least they didn't call me a big toad. Anyway, the frogs get a big plug so I feel satisfied that my trip to Brazil has been worthwhile, and I didn't even have to leave the pool. Next stop, the jungles of Peru where my frog hunting will continue in earnest. 

Frog's legs anyone?

Saint Barrack sins by tucking into frog flesh 

I’m driving through rural Uruguay in a beat-up car with two virtual strangers looking for a frog farm, which may or may not exist. It doesn’t get more random than this. I’ve left a gorgeous sunny day on a beautiful beach behind me, and voluntarily travelled 4 hours by bus back to stinking hot Montevideo to meet up with a couple of herpetologists so that we can spend the afternoon visiting what can best be described as a concentration camp for frogs. I think this is the moment where my amphibian obsession has truly taken control of my senses.

  

Grenouilles-in-waiting, minus garlic. 

Frog farming is big business here in South America with millions of live frogs exported every year to feed a growing global market. The French are obviously a major customer, and since they have literally eaten all their native frogs, they rely on imports to satisfy their desire to graze upon tiny garlicky thighs. But they’re not alone in their taste for frog flesh - the US, South America and China are also major fans. And the Japanese like to wrap their lips around frog sashimi, as this rather disturbing video shows.

(One can only dream of a parallel universe where frogs rule the earth and a bunch of Japanese business frogs are served the odious presenter of this show’s bald head on ice as a lunch-time appetiser)

Although Brazil leads the way in industrial frog farming, 15 years ago small farms started to pop up here in Uruguay, a country with a long and illustrious history in the meat processing game. For 120 years their economy flourished on the production of anonymous canned meat products and the border town of Fray Bentos became the corned beef capital of the world. 

Fray Bentos, thankfully the factory closed before they could branch into processed frog meat. 

The town of Fray Bentos is very proud of its place in pie history and is now home to what must be the world’s only processed meat museum (now there’s a fun afternoon for all the family – watch out Disney). Hopping on the frog farm bandwagon must have been a natural step for a country with a knack for producing alien foodstuffs and harbouring Nazi war criminals.

 
Pickled two-headed cow on display at the Fray Bentos processed meat museum - presumably to showcase something even less appetising than one of their pies.

I’m keen to see one of these frog farms with my own eyes. So I’ve arranged to meet two local herpetologists I found online in the hope that they can take me. It’s not the kind of request you get every day – a foreign woman writing to you and asking to be taken to a frog farm but Claudio and Francisco, whilst visibly nervous are also very obliging. 

The only trouble is most of the farms didn’t survive the 2002 financial crash. There is only one left and we don’t know exactly where it is or who owns it. But Uruguay is a small place and after asking around we eventually find ourselves at Washington, the caretaker’s house. He thinks there’s nothing strange about our desire to see his work-place and jumps on his bicycle and takes us on a guided tour of the farm.

Me, Claudio and Washington at the start of our guided tour 

My main reason for wanting to see one of these farms is that they are known to be a major factor in the global spread of Chytrid, the deadly fungus that is contributing to the amphibian extinction crisis. The problem is that American bullfrogs (the frog of choice for frog farming) can carry the fungus without succumbing to its fatal grasp. Studies have revealed that most of the South American farms test positive for Chytrid. The farmed frogs then carry the fungus with them to any market or town they’re exported to, thereby spreading the fungus both nationally and internationally.

 
 Swimming in dead tadpole soup. Nice.

As soon as I walk in the door I realise that this is one of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for moments. The first thing that hits you is the fetid stench. Then the constant drip-drip of water. There are dead animals everywhere. Floating listlessly in the water amongst the live tadpoles and frogs. 

 

Altogether it’s an utterly depressing place - dank and smelling of death. It would be an uncomfortable experience for anyone let along three frog-lovers. I feel guilty for dragging Claudio and Francisco into this gruesome situation. It’s doubly awkward as we’re essentially strangers. None of us really knows how to react (particularly me) so we all smile benignly through the horror. 

 
Nervous smiles all round as we commemorate the happy occasion with a photo 

The farm is in two sections. There’s the main production area with big concrete tanks full of frogs in various stages of metamorphosis. Then there is the romance room where a select group of adults get down to production. It’s slightly more deluxe, compared to the barren concrete vats next door, but it’s not exactly what you’d call romantic.

 

The swingers room at the frog farm, take your partner by the hand and lead her to...a slimy white bucket

In the middle of the room there is a shallow concrete tank where the frogs hang out when they’re not copulating – a sort of getting-to-know-each-other jacuzzi area. The white troughs stationed around the edge are where the action happens. It seems the frogs like a bit of privacy and so each couple has the dignity of their own dirty white plastic bucket to do it in. 

 
The stud, father of millions of fungus carrying frogs

This farm has tested positive for Chytrid in the past and it’s a creepy sensation to know that these frogs are all infected. I ask Washington about escapees and he tells me not to worry - if he hears a bullfrog calling in the nearby woods, he chases after it and shoots it with his rifle. Wow, this place really is an amphibian Abu Graib. But even with the escapees killed I’m still very concerned about humans walking in and out of the farm spreading Chytrid on their boots wherever they go. Claudio and Francisco have already detected the fungus in selected wild frogs populations in Uruguay and you’ve got to wonder whether farms like this one could have been the original source. 

In search of the supermodel toad

Melanophryniscus montevidensis - the Naomi Campbell of the amphibian world. This dark, venomous beauty hangs out with Argentinian billionaires in the sand dunes of Uruguay 

I'm leaving Argentina and heading to Punta del Este in Uruguay, also known as the St Tropez of South America. Admittedly this is not the most obvious place to be looking for frogs (of the amphibian kind) but I've been invited by a friend of a friend, Miguel Reynal, who just happens to be a very well respected conservationist so I'd be silly to say no. 

Shopping Punta style

Punta is super glitzy - high rises, high prices and plenty of plastic surgery. There's not a lot of subtlety here - as demonstrated by the shop names. This is where the South American super rich come to play, jetting in for the weekend and staying in beachfront villas that cost up to $30,000 a week to rent in high season. The small towns and windswept deserted beaches just to the north are super chic and frequented by the likes of Giselle and Naomi Campbell. 

Montevideo Red-bellied toad, relaxing on the beach and sporting this season's must-have red and yellow bikini 

The sand dunes here are also home to Melanophryniscus montevidensis, alias the Montevideo red-bellied toad, which has more than a few things in common with Miss Campbell. This incredibly rare black toad may be beautiful but is, in fact, highly toxic. It's skin secretes alkaloids - poisonous chemicals which it sequesters from its diet of termites and ants. This black beauty signals its venomous nature by flashing the dramatic red underside of its hands, feet and belly when frightened, warning potential predators not to mess with it. 

Naomi Campbell displaying the underside of her hands as a warning sign and if further provoked will attack with a mobile phone.

The sad reality is that I have more chance of spotting a supermodel on these sand dunes than I do a red-bellied toad. Their numbers are in steep decline. It seems they don't like to share their sand dunes with luxury penthouses, bronzed beach bunnies and cavorting Argentinean playboys looking for wife number 7. High-end tourism and red-bellied toads don't mix.

However I am pleased to discover that inland this part of the world is frog heaven. Away from the beach, the fields and ponds are alive with the chirrupy sing song of amorous amphibians. During a heavy rainstorm on the first night I run into another toad, Rhinella dorbignyi. He is literally sitting on my doorstep waiting to meet me. 

Rhinella are the family of so-called beaked toads and have ossified snouts, not unlike the late Michael Jackson's

He may be common, but he's a gorgeous lime green burrowing toad who normally spends all day in his dug-out home waiting for something tasty to walk past but has been lured out by the rain and is looking for a mate. He is my first frog prince in Uruguay and I am delighted to meet him, although I'm not sure the feeling is reciprocated. 

 The happy couple - it was love at first sight

The little shop of horrors

Goodbye Chile and hello Argentina - the border at 10,000 feet.

I thought the words 'enjoy' and 'bus ride' didn't belong together. Like Peter and Katie, or Simon Cowell and lovely chap. But I was wrong. The Andes Mar Express from Santiago to Mendoza is an incredible journey and certainly knocks the hell out of the 55 from Hackney to Oxford street. The scenery is epic, passing over the Andes and past some of the highest peaks on the continent. 

I'm excited. A new country means new frogs. Given that Argentina boasts the highest diversity of ecosystems of any country in the world – over 30 separate environments from deserts plains to steaming jungles - there have got to be some awesome amphibians out there. 

The Argentine horned toad alias the Rottweiler of the herp world. Makes a great pet apparently. Or bodyguard.

Top of my wish list is the Argentine horned toad. Fondly known in herp circles as the Pacman frog as it's basically just a giant walking mouth that will happily swallow anything in sight including animals significantly further up the food chain. Check out this video of one making a meal out of a live mouse. 

I'm not sure what's more disturbing about that video. The sight of a frog wrestling a mouse to death in a tupperware colosseum or the gleeful cheers from the Pac-man's owners like throwing a mouse to the frogs is some acceptable form of gladiatorial event. Youtube is full of videos like this and I'm sad to say that the Argentine horned toad has become a popular pet freak show, with websites devoted to it. Just don't let it near the chihuahua. Anyway, I'm on a quest to find an Argentine horned toad in its native land and survive to type the tale with my fingers still intact.

Gethin and his family giving advise on how to greet a hungry horned toad. Bear costume optional, but highly recommended.

I’m staying in Argentina with my friends Gethin and Megan in the sleepy city of Mendoza. This is wine country and most of the tourists that come here are middle-class wine buffs looking to get gently sloshed on a vineyard tour. But I'm here to look for frogs which certainly flummoxes the local tourist bureau. I ask around and no one can help me with my mission and then someone suggests I pay a visit to the local grocery store belonging to Joaquin Lopez. 

Joaquin is an amateur taxidermist and likes to display his creations in his shop, next to the butchers counter. Nice. I’m guessing the health and safety restrictions here in Mendoza are not as strict as in the UK but anyway it certainly makes you think twice about buying his sausages. It's hard to capture the place in a photo - so I made this short video to give you a better idea of quite how unsettling the whole arrangement is. 

Amongst the cornucopia of slightly misshapen animals are two types of toad - including what looks like an Argentine horned toad, complete with plastic staring eyes. Bingo. Mission accomplished.

On special this week - stuffed toads, buy one get one free

Preserved horned toad - at least this one doesn't bite

My thrill of finding frogs is eclipsed by my incredulity at Joaquin’s fetish for mixing dead animals (not for sale by the way) with food purchasing. I’m keen to meet the man and expect some sort of super freak but Joaquin is a pretty normal chap, just with a very strange and very public hobby. 

Joaquin and one of his dramatic pieces - toad versus spider

Now I’m no expert in stuffing animals but it strikes me that he isn’t the most accomplished of taxidermists. Most of the animals are a little lumpy to say the least. In fact, Dr Frankenstein could have done a better job. This is explained when Joaquin tells me that he's self taught. Ever since he was a boy he wanted to preserve animals. He started out by stuffing them with meat before discovering that sawdust and wires offered more longevity. And less smell.

 A fantastically frozen Mr Fox

Thanks to the shop he's developed something of a reputation and people send him dead animals from far and wide. He showed me inside his tardis-like fridge which contained an entire zoo of frozen species waiting to be preserved Joaquin-style. 

One of his proudest creations is a stuffed poodle which was literally frightened to death. Apparently it had just been in the poodle parlour, having its hair done when it encountered a large angry dog outside, had a heart attack and died on the spot. At least its hair looked good though. 

In death the poodle shows no fear

Joaquin is not a hunter and does not condone killing animals. In fact it's a lifelong love of nature and its diversity that has led him to this curious pastime. It's his desire to preserve endangered species so that they can be remembered when they have disappeared. With a collection that spans over 30 years he is sure to have already preserved extinct species making him the strangest conservationist I have ever met.