Well, we’ve always thought of Valentine’s Day as the birds’ wedding day, but this year the bouquet goes to the garden frogs. Mrs Turnstone ran indoors to grab her phone and record the event. We shall have to watch the weather and protect the eggs from frost, if we get any. It is unusually warm. But we have had lying snow in February, half a lifetime ago.
At least we can do a bit for the climate by helping the frogs who choose our pool. That may include covering it to prevent the blackbirds from fishing.
Mrs T eventually got to trimming the ivy hedge that grows over our garden wall and helps keeps intruders out. It will never be a masterpiece of topiary, but it is held in check with annual or biannual trimmings.
The main reason for delaying the trim is shown below: the birds nest in it. This blackbird’s nest does not have its lining of mud. Was it abandoned unfinished for some reason, or was it impossible to find the right sort of mud in this driest of summers? For sure the blackbirds raised two broods in the hedge this year.
Here is a fledgling from a few years ago, quite convinced he is invisible.
We recommend respecting the neighbours, they will repay you with interest — plenty of interest as you watch them go about their business.
Let the hedge grow till August, when the last chicks are fledged. Make sure they can get to water for drinking and bathing; ours like the tiny pond opposite the hedge. It gets plenty of shade and is full of oxygenating plants, mostly self-invited. We wish we had more frogs, but our last cock blackbird had been watching the kingfishers, I think, because he had learnt to catch tadpoles to feed his offspring. This year it seemed as though more survived to grow legs and make for dry land. Let’s hope so.
Mrs T had been subdued, hardly mentioning the lack of frogspawn in our garden pond. It’s an annual worry: will they lay this year? Last summer neighbours cleared a neglected garden and disturbed many frogs in the ivy that was undermining the garden wall.
I said nothing; till today. As I let myself through the back gate I heard a croak, a full-throated, joyous croak. At least one frog was alive! Naturally I peered into the pond and there I saw two mounds of frogs’ eggs. Had a certain friend brought some from her garden which always has a surplus?
Not at all, these had been laid overnight. Coming later in the season they are less likely to be killed by frost, though we’ll have to be on hand to cover the pond overnight with bubble wrap. Let’s live in hope, and continue to provide places of refuge amid ground cover plants such as ivy, periwinkle or these violets.
Mrs T has been so busy with grandchildren that she has had no time to worry about the frogs that enjoy life in our pond enough to lay their eggs with us every year. And No Worries this year, because when she went out into the garden, between the showers today, she heard a croak, followed by a splash. Let’s hope he has an amphibious Valentine waiting to meet up with him.
An hour ago, Mrs T sent me on a message to Frog’s  next-door neighbour’s house. A glorious sunny September noontime, roses tumbling over the fence, bees buzzing, as well as motor mowers.
I turned to go, and distinctly heard a frog croaking from Mrs T’s friend’s bushes. Perhaps Frog’s resident frog has not wandered too far from her little pond.
Abel found two of this year’s froglets in our pond yesterday!
A second consecutive evening meal in the garden; at least two frogs calling, and the bats flitting across the table. The fat hawk moth on the ivy stayed low and safe.
Ratatouille with added French beans, since you enquired!
It was an evening to dine in the garden, a leisurely tete-a-tete meal with Mrs T. Mrs T has been fretting about the frogs who seem to have abandoned the pond this summer, but as we dug into the home-made blackberry ice-cream (thanks to Abel for the picking he did) there came a croak from the woodpile, a definite, assertive, bass note. A few seconds later, a tenor croak replied from under the holly bush.
Mrs T could go to bed happy. May the frogs be with her!
Mrs T had gone to work when I got in from town, leaving a note to say she had seen two frogs in the pond! (Her exclamation mark)
The heatwave seems to have led them to hide these last two weeks. Even the pond was – apparently – untenanted, though they might have been down in the depths of the pool, ‘where it was fine and cool.’ I heard one croaking one evening from deep in the undergrowth, but Mrs T did not, so that did not count.
The Butterflies’ teacher came round after school to bring the ex-frog spawn which was ready to leave school. (The Butterflies can look forward to another eleven or twelve years of it!)
Some of the former little black dots were now hopping on and off the big flint in the middle of their tank, and the rest had legs and were losing their tails. All of them seemed happy to dive into the pond where they were laid. I’m sure more survived into froghood than if they’d stayed in the pond. Mrs Turnstone cannot blame the goldfish for predation after she took ours to her pond at work.
Mr Blackbird discovered this source of protein last year and was keeping an eye this, till the duckweed covered the surface. Now the fish ate most of that, when we had fish. As well as the weed, the frogs of all sizes have logs and rocks to hide themselves away. But can you spot the frogs in the bottom picture?
A message just came from the Butterflies class, who have been observing and caring for some of the frogspawn in this picture.
There are five froglets and a few tadpoles with legs! Great excitement in the classroom, but the children know the froglets and their brothers and sisters will soon be coming back to their native pond. For certain sure, more of them have survived than if they had been in the pond at the mercy of Mr Blackbird.
Thank you Butterflies class and your marvellous teacher!
Will Turnstone 