Frogging and Togging 26th February 2026

It was blustery this morning, not particularly cold but the strength of the wind blowing down the narrow valley was enough to  make it feel colder than the recorded temperature suggested. Needless to say the sky was the colour of woodash and the sunshine of yesterday but a memory.

I find it barely credible that a year has passed since last I came here to these three inconsequential shallow  pools, lying well within the boundary of the city but here I am again admiring the frogs that have lain  dormant in holes, recesses or whatever dark hiding places  they have chosen throughout the winter and from which are now emerging to greet another Spring and begin the timeless ritual of courting and spawning. All will be achieved in a matter of a few days before they disperse once more to their hideaways, leaving the favoured pools to nurture their progeny and provide for another generation of frogs.

Today as I looked down from the boardwalk, the pools the frogs so faithfully return to each year looked devoid of any amphibious life but contrary ripples on the water's surface told otherwise, betraying frog activity below the surface.

I stood silent and motionless which is what you do if you wish to see the frogs, which with a multitude of predators take easy alarm, especially at a looming presence such as mine. I must look a  giant to them as they poke their blunt noses and gold rimmed goggle eyes above the water to survey their immediate surroundings.

Slowly and cautiously, around a dozen heads emerged above the water, the attached bodies lying prone below the cold water, supported by blades of riparian plantlife . Gaining confidence a few males begin jostling each other and moving across the water's surface with jerky movements before adopting their customary static pose as if waiting, which I suppose they are, for a female to  appear and hopefully to clamber onto her back and when the time comes fertilise the eggs as they pour in a jellied stream from her bloated body.

This morning a couple of males were already clinging onto their chosen female's backs (a behaviour called amplexus) but no spawn was yet evident, while other male frogs were still instinctively trying to clamber on each others backs, heedless and blundering in their all consuming drive to procreate. 

The above two images show a male and female frog in amplexus.Note the difference in colour
between the male (grey) and the female (brown)

A couple of frogs decided they wanted to move from one pool to another and in a series of giant hops proceeded across the intervening dead grass and moss. Each hop was followed by a long period of immobility as if the frog was seized by doubt about exposing itself away from its natural environment and was assessing whether it was safe to chance another hop and risk drawing attention to itself. 

A few gave brief voice,  a subdued and desultory purring, not unattractive in its gentle rhythmic pulsing the sound reminiscent of a distant running motor.Today it had to compete with the sound of the gusting wind and soon ceased as if the frogs were deterred by the weather and lack of competition.

My visit today was probably premature.There is surely more to come so I will return in a few days when hopefully the numbers will have increased. Last year the pools dried up in the long summer drought and I assume the tadpoles perished so maybe the numbers of adults will not be so plentiful this year. I can but hope for the best and will know soon enough.

I spent ninety minutes standing alone by the pools, the busy city if not visible certainly audible above and around this shallow valley that harbours one of the most endangered fenland habitats in Britain and contains a host of of rare native plants lovingly protected and tended by a band of dedicated volunteers 

Frogs, are themselves becoming endangered so are just as much a valued part of this sanctuary. Their annual return to the valley a welcome confirmation of the approaching Spring and another year of regeneration.