FROG: pond study leads me to take a sudden unwelcome dip

EACH spring, lakes and ponds across the country are decorated with that glutenous, jelly-like substance known as frogspawn - the starting point for a biological transformation that has fascinated kids for generations.

Before long, the unpromising black dots within each jelly mass swell and hatch to produce hundreds of frenetically wriggling tadpoles, which themselves slowly metamorphose into perfectly formed, fingernail-sized frogs.

Meanwhile, spawn laid in strings and sited in deeper water - less commonly seen - will result in offspring for the frog's cousin, the much scalier, less athletic toad.

The whole process seems to hold a special appeal for children. I myself studied and prodded frogspawn on countless occasions as a youngster, waiting for buckets of the translucent stuff laid at the edge of our large village pond to burst into life.

It seemed to take forever.

When armies of tadpoles did eventually emerge, I lay on my stomach on the bank with a hand and arm submerged up to the shoulder.

Nothing in the world seemed as thrilling at that moment as slowly paddling through dense clouds of the slippery creatures.

Occasionally, I would catch a few, studying their glistening bodies for a few seconds before releasing them back into the anonimity of their seething tadpole brethren.

I was doing this one year when I actually overbalanced and fell in.

The water was quite shallow but for a moment it was hard to get my bearings, and I struggled to find a foothold.

Fortunately, someone was fishing close by and rushed over.

I was soon dumped back on the bank, a spluttering, half-drowned wreck. Oddly, the experience never put me off tadpoles.

If anything, it only made me keener on the little darlings.

April and May see tadpoles completing their development into frogs, deserting their ponds over June and July to hunt for food.

Most will end up being eaten themselves by a variety of predators.

Even blackbirds take their fair share as junior frogs desperately seek cover in grass and hedges.

By November, young and old frogs have started to hibernate, the males burrowing themselves into mud at the bottom of the pond.

These bottom dwelling frogs would obviously drown were it not for their amazing ability to breathe through their skin as the rest of the body shuts down.

Yet they might still suffocate to death if the pond freezes and stays frozen for any length of time.

You can prevent this happening yourself by breaking the ice.

Take care, though, as violent shockwaves can kill fish as well as frogs. Better to site a kettle or pan filled with boiling hot water on top to gently melt the ice - not forgetting to attach a string, of course, if you want your pot back.

A female relative of mine has a phobia about frogs and will go into shock herself if one so much as hops into view.

As her garden has a long-established pond which attracts several frogs, she suffers regular shocks.

Despite the efforts of her husband to keep the pond clear of both spawn and frogs, the air is often rent by a scream as another marauding amphibian pops up unannounced.

Frogs, like many creatures, can be surprisingly single-minded come the mating season.

A living, writhing 'ball' of frogs stacked one upon the other underwater are often so preoccupied by their Roman orgy that onlookers can get amazingly close, a fact which presents a convenient smorgasbord opportunity to any hungry heron or pike.

Goldfish are sometimes even killed by amorous male frogs which fail to find a mate and end up clamping their forelegs around the fish's gills, suffocating the poor wretch as they try to get their wicked way.

Nature can be cruel.