For five weeks over summer 2026, I was a diligent and attentive surrogate father to 60 very special dependants. These precious wards are members of a rare UK insect species called the large marsh grasshopper.

Citizen Zoo, with consent from Natural England and the support of several Wildlife Trusts, including Norfolk Wildlife Trust, launched its Large Marsh Grasshopper project in 2018. Affectionately known as 'A Hop of Hope', this involves volunteers (many with no previous wildlife conservation experience) raising endangered grasshoppers from eggs to winged adults, in the comfort of their own homes! This is followed by the satisfaction of releasing them into the wild at one of several carefully selected, habitat-suitable locations.

The large marsh grasshopper is the UK's biggest grasshopper which, not surprisingly, prefers damp marshy ground, with plenty of tall vegetation. However, insect decline, particularly in larger species, has reached worrying levels and the large marsh grasshopper is now restricted to a few locations in Southern England, with the core population centred around the New Forest. The species was last recorded in the Broads in 1938, with it disappearing entirely from Norfolk in the mid-1960s. As with the decline of other large insects, the reasons are complex, and the loss of the large marsh grasshopper could indicate a general degradation of the habitat that supports them.

Its demise in Norfolk was particularly sad, as the large marsh grasshopper is such an attractive creature. As is often the case with insects, the female is noticeably larger than the male. Both are a bright olive-green colour, flanked with yellow bands, with distinctive red hind thighs and black knees. As with birds, grasshoppers can be identified by their 'song', and for me, nothing in British nature - with the exception of butterflies - indicated the school summer holidays more than the chirping of grasshoppers in the long grass.

Male grasshoppers create this familiar sound by stridulation (rubbing their legs and wing cases together). Unfortunately, an old soldier's inadequate ears now deny me the pleasure of listening to grasshoppers sing, but I can hear the large marsh grasshopper's 'clicks'. These are made by it flicking its back legs against the tip of its forewings. The sound has been described as bubbles popping, although the suggestion that its call is like the clicking of a live electric fence is, for me, spot on.

In 2018, wild large marsh grasshoppers were caught for captive breeding across several sites in the New Forest. To ensure this was safe to do, the population was surveyed and only one in 10 grasshoppers that were caught was kept. The following year, Citizen Zoo recruited and trained its first group of dedicated 'Citizen Keepers', who spent eight weeks looking after two grasshopper cohorts. This proved highly successful, with far more grasshoppers reaching adulthood in captivity than would have survived in the wild. Since then, thousands of adult grasshoppers have been released at sites in the Broads, North Norfolk and Cambridgeshire.

I became a Citizen Keeper for the first time this summer, and it has been a fascinating and exceptionally rewarding experience. In June, I visited Great Cambourne to collect the equipment and egg pods, and receive instructions on how to successfully raise large marsh grasshoppers. Dr Stuart Green, the project lead, explained the grasshopper life cycle and the best methods for feeding and handling them. We were given a vivarium (the kind of locust house you would have found in a school biology lab), 40- and 60-watt bulbs, a pooter for capturing strays and escapees, a thermometer, and a tray of damp sand containing up to 10 egg pods. Each pod contains eight to 10 eggs, so this could potentially result in 100 grasshoppers.

On arriving home, I set up my vivarium but initially struggled to get the temperature up to the desired 30 degrees. Despite this, the first hatching was three days later, with the final nymphs emerging five days from the initial set up. I made a rough estimate of 70 tiny grasshoppers, although it was impossible to count them properly as they hopped among the freshly picked grass.

The orange hatchlings, which are about half a centimetre long, turn brown as their exoskeleton hardens. Because this hard shell cannot stretch, grasshoppers must periodically shed their exoskeleton to grow. The large marsh grasshopper typically passes through four nymphal instars before developing into a winged adult, but they can take up to five, or even get 'stuck' in a juvenile instar stage.

My initial worries concerning temperature were dispelled by the heatwave that hit us in mid-June. The advice from Stuart's regular Facebook updates was to change to a 40-watt bulb, and even consider turning the light off altogether in the middle of the day.

The helpful Keepers' Manual suggested that the best food for them is cock's-foot grass, although they will eat most grass species, including reed. In the continuing drought, finding a suitable supply was difficult for some but, luckily, my garden ponds were complimented by reed, sweet-grass and plenty of cock's-foot. Each day, I squeezed the stems of a fresh clump of cut grass into a jam jar of water, with the long floppy leaves draping over the sides like a bad hair day. Shaking the grasshoppers off the previous day's grass often resulted in escapees, and the pooter needed to be at hand.

The release date was set for 12 July, approximately 30 days after the last hatching. Once the grasshoppers are released, an important part of the project is measuring success. Adult grasshoppers, prior to release, are all marked with a paint spot of varying colours, depending on place and release date. Re-catching them and checking the spot allows monitoring of their subsequent dispersal.

On release day, I marked each grasshopper with a small dab of red oil paint behind its head. This isn't an easy operation! Having let the vivarium cool down overnight, I had to catch each, supposably more sluggish, grasshopper by hand. With a firm grip between my finger and thumb, a dab of red was then applied with a cocktail stick. Grasshoppers, of course, jump! And one or two did struggle free. After the odd tussle, all adults, of which there were 18 males and 16 females, were successfully marked and placed in their net bag for transport.

The release site, a wetland site in the Yare Valley, was perfect grasshopper habitat, with plenty of food and patches of damp ground for egg laying. Now in the wild, my hand-reared grasshoppers looked slightly ridiculous with their red paint dots. But as they disappeared, I'm guessing with some bewilderment, into their new Norfolk home, I had a 'moment', for this simple act of release carried a much larger hope; a hope that other damaged habitats can recover, grow and support thriving wildlife.

For a few weeks, my kitchen had become part nursery, part conservation station, and although my role was a modest one, I felt connected to something genuinely important. If these grasshoppers continue to flourish, their clicking calls may once again become part of Norfolk's summer soundscape. A sign that the marshes, fens and wet grasslands they depend on are becoming healthier.