THE ONLY WAY IS UP

A South American frog whose young erupt from the mother's back

- Nick Baker

I CAN HEAR A FAINT METRONOMIC TICKING, coming in pulses, like a clock on its last wind. Here, in the swampy rainforest of South America, this curious sound doesn't make sense. Maybe it is an insect - a cricket or cicada - but it seems to be coming from underwater. Standing at the edge of a clear forest pool, I kick some leaves around with the toe of my boot and detect movement. Is it a leaf or a scrap of bark? It's neither; it's a frog. Called (confusingly) the Surinam toad, it is the most un-frog-like frog you are ever likely to see, if you can see it at all.

The Surinam toad's body is a soft, flattened rectangle of flesh with a leg on each corner - those at the back are chunky and webbed for propulsion; those at the front are spindly with splayed fingers reaching out. The head is a shallow triangle, all mouth, coming to a small, pointed snout. The strange tiny eyes embedded on top of the head offer nothing familiar to fix upon. Besides, they are barely used in these dark and dingy flooded forests, where the frog's flattened form allows it to slip unseen between submerged leaf litter.