Inches from the pond's edge, a tiny black toadlet struggles over a mat of algae. It pumps its little legs until it reaches dry land for the very first time. Other toadlets on the moss-coated bank still have the stumps of tails which they will absorb and gain nourishment from over the next few days until they begin to catch insects. One has already shed the dark covering of the newly emerged and is green with a yellow stripe down its spine - a perfect miniature of an adult natterjack toad. My licence from English Nature authorises me to monitor this rare amphibian in the ponds of the RSPB's heathland nature reserve. Eight weeks ago, I counted the spawn from which these minute creatures hatched. The females walk back and forwards as they lay their eggs, so the strings of spawn often float in the water like spaghetti. A female broad-bodied chaser dragonfly hovers, her metallic gold body gleaming in the sunlight, then dips the tip of her abdomen repeatedly into the water to lay her eggs. A female emperor dragonfly now zooms over the water, wings thrumming against each other. She is extraordinarily agile, jinking to snatch an insect out of the air then gliding to the opposite bank, where she perches on a heather bush to eat it. Her long abdomen, split by a vertical black line, is blueish-green. As this hot day continues, it will turn blue. Wings outstretched, she is still but for her great jaws, slicing up the hapless ladybird that flew a fraction too close.