I had passed the municipal election poster so many times. But the morning after Marina Ovshannikova walked into the live broadcast of Russian state television with a banner, those three words took on a new meaning. “Every vote counts.” Monday night, at the time of her bold anti-war protest, I was at the cinema. Silence of the tides – no lame voice-over, no distracting commentary. The best nature movie in ages. Precisely because of the lack of votes, I thought. But I was wrong. The screeching of the black-headed gulls, the alarm call of the avocet, the chattering of young spoonbills: each sound told its own story. I was just used to listening. Nature has become background music in the Netherlands. Muzak for the open air.
Tuesday I was on my bike at 07:00. Ovshannikova had been arrested, her fate uncertain. I saw the text on the election poster; I heard birds I couldn’t name. Half an hour later I was standing with two mating toads in my hand.
On a whim I signed up to join the toad working group in Overveen. Now the five of us in fluorescent vests walked along the fence of the Koningshof estate, to assist the toads with their spring migration. Every twenty meters we stopped at a dug-in bucket to see if there were toads in it.
‘They don’t really pair up,’ said volunteer Els as she handed me the intimately entwined duo. “The male only rides on the back of the female until they reach the water where they reproduce. Then an egg string emerges from her abdomen and he splashes sperm over it.” I looked at the pair of toads, clutching her tightly with his front paws. “You shouldn’t think about it,” sighed Gertie, another volunteer. “Walking all that distance with a lazy man on your back.”
The spring toad migration is not without danger. Hiking routes often cross highways. That is why in February and March volunteers are active throughout the Netherlands to transfer toads. Tineke, coordinator of the Tuesday shift, pointed out the fine mesh along the fence: “If they walk past it, looking for a crossing, they automatically fall into a bucket. We put those toads over the road, behind the fence of the Elswout estate. There is the water where they will mate.” Safwan, from Syria, pointed to his gardening gloves. “To protect the toads.” Toads are especially susceptible to viruses and bacteria because of their porous skin.
A motorcycle with a banging exhaust passed by. The birdsong in the woods fell silent. I was thinking of the nature images Silence of the tides, intersected with footage of a military exercise on Vlieland. Screaming soldiers, exploding tanks. Man who violently drowns out nature.
Then, at the last bucket, came a happy cry from Safwan. “Number 39!” Tineke: “Our record this year!” We cheered. For the first time in weeks I was hopeful again.
Gemma Venhuizen is a biology editor at NRC and writes a column here every Wednesday.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC on the morning of March 16, 2022
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