A breakfast-time orgy

I know, it's enough to make you choke on your cornflakes... But it's true; the garden has been a writhing mass of copulating couples all weekend, albeit of the amphibian variety and in the pond. I went out yesterday morning after a mild, drizzly night, intent on opening the greenhouse door and windows to let some fresh air blow through, but got distracted by a frog – the first of the 'spring' – hopping across the grass right in front of me and making a bee-line for the nearest of our two ponds. I was gobsmacked by the sight that awaited me there. 

Overnight, masses of glistening clumps of fresh frogspawn had been laid in the pond and the water-surface was literally alive with dozens of bonking frogs. As I approached, they did a gold medal-winning synchronised dive, before gradually popping back up to carry on the sexual frenzy; males clasping gravid females in a tight embrace, with other males clambering over one-another hoping to be next in the queue and still others croaking in unison aiming to lure new females to the rut. The variety of sizes, colouration and markings was astonishing and I counted a minimum of 150 individuals.

After more heavy rain on Saturday night the frogs were still there this morning and while the numbers may not have been quite so high, the area of spawn had further increased. As every year, local Buzzards are all-too-happy to take advantage of the temporary abundance of frogs – a fact I first realised several years ago when I found lumps of spawn halfway up an oak tree; the grisly remains of a predated female. If frogs' legs are good enough for haute cuisine, they're good enough for Buzzards, which swoop down to the pond to seize unwary individuals sitting out in the open. So it's a potentially dangerous time for the frogs, but they'll be gone within a day or two and living a far more solitary – and indeed chaste – existence for another year. Incidentally, this is the earliest and biggest spawning season of our 14 springs here.