The quiet hours of the night offer a completely different perspective on the Eastern Plains. Last Sunday, while out on the late-night print distribution route through Peyton, the roads were predictably empty. But when you are delivering newspapers under the cover of darkness, you quickly learn that the graveyard shift belongs to the local wildlife.

While navigating a dark stretch of asphalt, the delivery crew—Jazmine, Willow, Quinn, and myself—spotted a small, unmoving silhouette illuminated by the headlights. We brought the vehicle to a halt to investigate, ensuring whatever it was didn’t end up as an accidental casualty of the news cycle. Sitting perfectly still on the warm road was a classic Colorado resident: the Woodhouse’s Toad (Anaxyrus woodhousii).

Getting a closer look at our roadblock, the identification was unmistakable. The toad sported the signature light-colored stripe running straight down the center of its back, contrasting sharply with its mottled, grayish-brown, and heavily warty skin. While higher alpine regions in the state boast the Boreal Toad, which also features a similar dorsal stripe, Peyton sits at roughly 6,800 feet in elevation. This is prime territory for the Woodhouse’s Toad, which thrives in the shortgrass prairies and agricultural zones below the 7,000-foot mark.

Finding a toad sitting on the pavement in the dead of night is actually textbook behavior for this species during the warmer months. After the sun goes down, asphalt retains heat much longer than the surrounding soil. Because toads are ectothermic, or cold-blooded, sitting on the road is an easy way for them to regulate and warm their bodies.

Additionally, Woodhouse’s Toads are nocturnal hunters. Open roads, especially those near any sort of ambient light, create a perfect clearing to spot and ambush passing insects, beetles, and moths. During the heat of the day, these amphibians are rarely seen, as they use the loose, sandy soils of the plains to burrow underground to conserve moisture and wait out the harsh sun.

After taking a moment to appreciate our nocturnal neighbor and snapping a quick video for the archives, we safely bypassed the toad and continued on the route. It was a great reminder that while most of the county is asleep, the local ecosystem is wide awake and hard at work.