In February 1945, as World War II was nearing its conclusion, a German V2 rocket struck Walthamstow Marshes in East London, creating a significant crater in the marshland. Over time, this wartime impact site transformed into a vibrant pond, gradually filling with water, sediment, and wildlife.
Luke Boyle, a ranger with the Lee Valley Regional Park Authority, reflects on the pond’s surprising ecological importance. “Though it’s small, it has a substantial impact,” he states as he observes the early spring growth of aquatic plants at the pond’s edge. “We aren’t able to manage the water levels here, so it plays a crucial role in the ecosystem, supporting various plants, insects, and amphibians—more than one might anticipate,” he adds.
The Bomb Crater Pond, nestled within a protected area of the marshes, serves as a special site of scientific interest. Its clear waters provide a habitat for wildlife throughout the year, contrasting sharply with the highly managed urban environment surrounding it. Each year, over a million visitors come to Walthamstow Marshes, many unaware that the unassuming pond by the fence originated from a destructive force.
Unlike many wetlands, this pond lacks sluice gates and maintained water levels. Its natural depth ensures it retains water consistently, remaining clean and reliable. Cattle also utilize the pond, and their movements around the edges create diverse habitats that support various species.
Among the notable species found in this habitat is the creeping marshwort, one of Britain’s rarest aquatic plants, recorded at only two locations in the country. Although it’s too early in the season to see it, Boyle is aware of its presence beneath the surface. “We monitor it closely,” he explains, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a balance between open water and encroaching vegetation. Under a countryside stewardship agreement with Natural England, he must preserve at least 80% of the pond as open water, manually removing reedmace when necessary.
Boyle regards this pond as his favorite place within the marshes. As he speaks, a Stansted Express train zooms past on the nearby elevated tracks, while a grey heron circles above, seemingly seeking a place to land.
Ecologists have long undervalued small ponds as crucial components of the ecosystem. “Historically, their small size has led to them being overlooked,” remarks Prof. Jeremy Biggs, CEO of Freshwater Habitats Trust. “However, the evidence indicates that they actually support a greater diversity of freshwater plants and animals, including more rare and protected species, compared to larger freshwater habitats like rivers and lakes.”
The paradox lies in the challenges faced by larger bodies of water. Rivers often collect diffuse pollution from their surrounding areas, while lakes are affected by runoff from extensive catchments. In contrast, ponds are small enough to avoid the detrimental influences that affect larger water bodies. “Sewage outlets are seldom directed into ponds since they can’t dilute pollutants,” Biggs explains.
“Darwin famously suggested that life began in a ‘warm little pond,’ and freshwater species have evolved for millions of years to inhabit these small, still waters,” Biggs states. “While it can take decades or even centuries for most habitats to establish, wildlife can quickly arrive at new ponds, allowing them to develop rich ecosystems within just a few years.”
Examples from bomb craters illustrate this point vividly. Biggs mentions that in Tommelen, Belgium, 144 ponds—many unintentionally formed by World War II bombings—have become a nature reserve home to seven species of amphibians, including great crested newts and tree frogs. Similarly, in the New Forest, craters from bouncing bomb tests, including one caused by a massive 10,000 kg bomb, have filled with water, creating a network of ponds in heathland. These cases showcase how rapidly ponds can become populated. If situated correctly and remaining clean, they can develop into rich habitats for a variety of species.
In stark contrast, 1,500 miles (2,400 km) east of Walthamstow, the landscape tells a different tale. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the extent of destruction visible in the land is staggering. Satellite imagery has revealed over 600,000 craters in just two southern regions (Mykolaiv and Kherson), with estimates suggesting the total number of craters across the country could reach millions.
The human toll has been catastrophic, with tens of thousands killed, millions displaced, and entire cities obliterated. For Anastasiia Splodytel, a Ukrainian soil scientist working in the ravaged areas, each crater signifies a moment of violence.
Understanding the aftermath of this destruction is complex, she notes. “It all hinges on who stands at the edge: their professional expertise, their perceptions, and a variety of natural factors such as soil type, landscape-geochemical structure, and the type of weapon used.”
