Frog morphology crops up a lot in our descriptions of nature. Babington’s orache (please read on) has frog’s head seeds, toadflax flowers are said to resemble the gape of a toad. In our ditches the clear water supports a delicate white flower called frogbit, home to, among several insects, the chinamark moth. What is it about a slimy, noisy creature with a big mouth and no discernible ears, so replicated in nature, that is so fascinating?
Recent political events might suggest the answer. Wrapped up in the short reign of chaos came a challenge to the new orthodoxy of environmental land management (ELMs), the long-awaited greening of British farming. Environmentalists and farmers alike are incredulous and horrified. According to the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), since 1970, Earth’s wildlife populations have declined by an average of 70%. The frogs (sorry, politicians) will soon gather to discuss this at Cop 15, and its wider context at the Cop 27 conference on climate change. So why this laggardliness on the ‘home front’?
“Though a frog’s ears have no outer organ, there is something called a tympanum which receives all incoming sound most effectively”
