Armchair Naturalist - Nature notes from a Wiltshire garden

Something has eaten the frog spawn in my pond! The usual suspects are the sharp-suited heron, the gorgeous glossy crows, and the very curious but cautious magpies.

I’m glad to report, however, it was none of them - the frogspawn has all hatched! Am I the only person who frets about their frogspawn?

Every year during February, I think: am I going to get any spawn; it’s late this year (I always start looking too early); can it survive the frost? I hate my friend Karma - she’s got spawn and haven’t; I love Karma - I have more than her now.

Now I can relax. There are hundreds of wiggly wrigglers.

The garden is full of the sound of singing birds, cooing wood pigeons and buzzing insects. The babbling waterfall is very relaxing, but it’s eclipsed by the sweet bubbling notes of the robin. His crystal clear voice can be heard above all the others for such long periods and is joyful to my heart. Just to sit and listen – bliss.

With this beautiful, warm weather comes a surge of insect activity. The forget-me-nots are alive with lots of different types of bees – honey (I think) and small, mainly black bumblebees and hoverflies. There have also been quite a few really big bumblebees looking for nest sites in various nooks and crannies. I rescued, what I believe to be, a carder bee from the greenhouse.

Is anyone else getting a lot of bee flies? I keep having to rescue them from my kitchen. They are very attractive little fellas although their larva is parasitoids of other insects. Funnily enough, my brother says they’ve got lots in their garden in Kent.

I’ve seen Peacock, Brimstone, Fritillary, and white butterflies – I need to pay better attention to identify which whites. They were feeding on the flowers of Brussels sprouts.

The daffodils have, sadly, faded now, but for a short time, their jolly colours are replaced by the glowing marsh marigolds. As I type, it’s early evening and the low sun is shining through them, and clouds of tiny insects are circling above the pond.

Written by Eileen Preston - Haith's Community