Country diary: Frogspawn returns to the pond I built with my father | Claire Stares

Langstone, Hampshire: A glistening raft of jelly is a promising sign of a frog resurgence after newts dominated for a decade

I register the arrival of spring through small, dependable signs in my garden: queen buff-tailed bumblebees wobbling through purple crocuses in search of nectar; the pungent scent of wild garlic; bluetits prospecting the nest box below my bedroom window; and the wren’s cascading song heralding the start of the breeding season.

Frogspawn used to be one of these markers, but not for many years. Then, 10 days ago, glancing more from habit than expectation, I saw it – a glistening raft moored against the water forget-me-nots. After such a long absence, it felt quietly momentous.

My father and I dug this pond 28 years ago. Within weeks, common frogs had claimed it. Each spring brought the same transformation – clear jelly thick with black beads, then the slow unravelling of tadpoles, forming dark, shifting shoals in the shallows before dispersing into deeper water.

Then came the smooth newt years. Their numbers built steadily until the balance tipped in their favour. Some nights, I counted into the 20s, my torchbeam catching their orange bellies as they surged up to ambush their prey. Frogspawn vanished almost as soon as it was laid; few tadpoles survived, and in time the frogs stopped breeding altogether. The newts’ impact intensified.

Damselfly larvae disappeared. Water boatmen grew scarce. Great pond snails, once abundant, were shaken from their shells, their soft bodies sucked up by the insatiable amphibians.

The pond has been dominated by these persistent predators for more than a decade, but in recent months, there have been promising signs of a frog resurgence: the occasional plop of something sizeable leaping into the water and several adults found sheltering in the damp shade of the flower border. The two species have a boom-and-bust relationship: when newts flourish, frog numbers decline, and with fewer frogspawn and tadpoles to sustain them, the newt population eventually dwindles.

This spring, I’ve only spotted a couple of small female newts, which so far seem to be steering clear of the frogspawn. The embryos are already developing distinct heads and tails; elongated, comma-shaped forms wiggling in their protective capsules, tiny lives stirring into motion. Time will tell whether they survive the next 14 weeks of metamorphosis.

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