Sunday, March 1st, 2026

A visit to my pond after (still) more rain. I take a friend and her dog to meet the pond - they’ve been walking here for years yet had no idea that the pond existed until now. I realise how hidden it is; the footpath is just the other side of the pond. There is a sort of entrance to the woods framed by the trees, yet you can’t actually see the pond and its embankments unless you go looking. Most people (and they are probably just out walking their dog), if they do come into the wood, turn left and follow the well trodden track, which is fine by me.

It’s still pretty wintery looking. Light through the trees is soft, pale sun trying to emerge through a still grey sky. The remaining leaves hanging on the trees drip with rain. The ground is slippery with black decaying leaves and twigs blown down from the trees in the recent winds.

I wade into the pond, balancing precariously as mud sucks and sticks to my boots. Pressing my stick into the mud, the level is about 35cm, deeper than last time. I’m surprised that it hasn’t risen more given the days - month - of rain that has fallen.

I’m puzzled by strange clusters of brown pod shapes hanging in the water. Closer investigation and realisation - since my last visit, frogs have visited and been busy - these are large clumps of frogspawn, floating in the pond, some with a fine coating of brown mud. Spring is clearly here. At the moment they’re just black dots floating in jelly. It’s going to take about 3 weeks for the tadpoles to emerge; I’ll have to make regular trips to check on progress, and just hope that the birds don’t get them all.

I poke about for ages looking for the strip of paper I buried on my last visit. I thought I knew where I’d placed it….and am about to give up when I see a corner poking up amongst the dead leaves and muddy water on the bank. Carefully uncovering it, I photograph it in situ before carrying the strip out to film; the wet glistening colours and textures on it are fabulous.

Jane sends me her recording of the birds singing. An impressive number of species. We attempt, unsuccessfully, to spot them in the trees.

Taken from Merlin app

Another recording later scores even more to add to the list - a passing buzzard, a carrion crow, a Blackcap, a Coal Tit, and a Chaffinch.