Author: David Bradley

The rate at which I’m seeing new moth species in the garden has been somewhat slow this year. Obviously, in my first couple of years mothing, I saw dozens and dozens I’d never seen before. In fact, most of the moths I saw early on were all new to me. I think the garden list got to about 350 species after the first three years. In subsequent, years, I’d see double figures of new moths, at least 127 NFM in 2018, 125+ NFM in 2019, and so on. 2022 was a good year, 64 NFM with the last new one of the year being at the end of October, December Moth!

So far in 2023, I’ve seen 22 new species.

Interestingly, as I fill in my records and add photos of the moths to my galleries on Imaging Storm, I also note as part of the scientific name, the scientists who gave the species its official name. Most of these were done in the 18th and 19th centuries by Linnaeus, Hufnagel, Denis & Schiffermüller, Scopoli, Forster, and others. But, a new moth for me this morning was Anarsia innoxiella. This tiny micro moth was new to science in 2017, according to the UK Moths site. The species is, the site says, well-established but only in local spots in Southern England.

According to the site, “it is thought that most specimens of previously identified A. lineatella that have been light-trapped are likely to be innoxiella.” The site adds, “The long black streak in the centre of the forewing is said to be diagnostic of innoxiella, supported by the more contrasting pattern overall. A. lineatella has a less-contrasting, duller pattern and the central black streak is shorter and more elliptical.”

I helped out at my first public moth event and bioblitz on 1st July at the wonderfully serene Coton Orchard, a couple of clicks west of central Cambridge.

It’s a mature and well-established early twentieth century orchard with great soil and a lot of biodiversity, Anna Gazeley told me at the event. Plenty of wild blackthorn growing on patches that no longer host apple trees and several areas of rewilding and meadow creation underway. There were dozens of Marbled White, Small Skipper, Meadow Brown, and Small Heath butterflies enjoying the meadows while Buzzards circled the thermals overhead.

Coton Orchard is, unfortunately threatened by what can only be described as a wholly inappropriate, costly, and ten-years out-of-date transport-infrastructure project for Cambridge. All in the name of sustaining Cambridge’s purported 15-minute city ethos. It looks like a very misguided busway idea to me and many others, despite what the developers and some members of the council claim. Indeed, the 2020 biological survey of the site suggests that the development would have a very detrimental effect on the ecosystem and the wildlife. Purported offsetting of the harm by planting new trees elsewhere does not and never can compensate for destroying established systems. It’s greenwashing at its worst.

Anyway, there was a good crowd of people of all ages who turned up quite early on a Saturday morning to see the grand unveiling of the moth traps. There were a lot of species, Privet Hawk-moth, Elephant Hawk-moth, Lunar-spotted Pinion, Dark Umber, Heart & Dart, Heart & Club, Dark Umber, Marbled Orchard Tortrix, Small Emerald, Silver Y, Bordered Straw, lots of micros, and many, many more from three actinic and one mercury vapour bulb trap. Those big moths delighted young and old alike!

I, and the proper moth experts there (Adrian Matthews, Ben Greig, Jim Cox, Lois Clarke, and others), talked to members of the public who were curious about various aspects of the moths, especially the names of different species.

I kept an eye on what was being revealed in each trap and was quite surprised, but encouraged, to see that I recognised a lot of the species from my own garden mothing over the last five years. There were dozens of species and hundreds of moths all enjoying their life in and around the orchard, I’m sure. Some were more rare than others, like Small Emerald and Dark Umber, and there may well be rarities at the orchard too that didn’t find the traps but were among the trees and in the undergrowth. Of course, there were lots of Apple Ermine moths. The team there is hoping and waiting to see the super-rare Black Hairstreak butterfly on the wild blackthorn on this site.

Also, there was entomologist Claire Wallace who pointed out that she could see that a sample had been taken for genetic testing from one of the beetles (a Sexton Beetle) found in one of the traps.

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UPDATE: I helped out at a public moth event and bioblitz this morning at the wonderfully serene Coton Orchard, 2-3km west of central Cambridge. It’s a century-old orchard with great soil and a lot of biodiversity, Anna Gazeley told me at the event. It is, unfortunately threatened by what can only be described as a wholly inappropriate, costly, and ten-years out-of-date transport-infrastructure project for Cambridge. All in the name of sustaining Cambridge’s purported 15-minute city ethos.

Anyway, there was a good crowd of people of all ages who turned up quite early on a Saturday morning to see the grand unveiling of the moth traps. There were a lot of species, Privet Hawk-moth, Elephant Hawk-moth, Lunar-spotted Pinion, Dark Umber, Heart & Dart, Heart & Club, Dark Umber, Marbled Orchard Tortrix, Small Emerald, Silver Y, Bordered Straw, lots of micros, and many, many more from three actinic and one mercury vapour bulb trap.

I, and the proper moth experts there (Adrian Matthews, Ben Greig, Jim Cox, Lois Clarke, and others), talked to members of the public who were curious about various aspects of the moths, especially the names of different species.

I kept an eye on what was being revealed in each trap and was quite surprised, but encouraged, to see that I recognised a lot of the species from my own garden mothing over the last five years. There were dozens of species and hundreds of moths all enjoying their life in and around the orchard, I’m sure. Some were more rare than others, like Small Emerald and Dark Umber, and there may well be rarities at the orchard too that didn’t find the traps but were among the trees and in the undergrowth. Of course, there were lots of Apple Ermine moths. The team there is hoping and waiting to see the super-rare Black Hairstreak butterfly on the wild blackthorn on this site.

Also, there was bee expert Claire Wallace who pointed out that a sample had been taken for genetic testing from one of the beetles (a Sexton Beetle) found in one of the traps.

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If you’ve been visiting Sciencebase for a while, you will know that in July 2018, I acquired a moth trap, became quickly fixated on this other world of nocturnal Lepidoptera, and have logged and photographed the species that turn up in my garden and that I see elsewhere ever since. Almost fanatically, Mrs Sciencebase would say…

I did an audit of my logs at the end of June ahead of my five-year anniversary as a moth-er on 24th July. So, I’m writing this post on the 30th June and will update as July gets underway.

At the time of writing, I have recorded 448 moths in my South Cambridgeshire garden, mainly drawn to a 40W actinic light over the years, but occasionally and regularly for a month or so to a (cheaper-to-run) 20W Wemlite, an even-cheaper-to-run LepiLED, or to various pheromone lures. There has been the occasional moth that turned up without my having done anything, The Vapourer and the Lilac Beauty, for instance. The former on our bedroom window one afternoon (spotted by Mrs Sciencebase), the latter perched at the front door (spotted by me).

I have also recorded 34 species elsewhere, either random sightings on nature reserves, in woodlands, or in holiday house gardens. I have also photographed 38 species of British butterfly (butterflies are moths) and ten species outside the UK. So, in total, well over 500 species of Lepidoptera.

It’s the garden moth list that I focus on, however, I was hoping to reach 500 species of moth in the garden for my fifth anniversary, that seems unlikely unless there’s a big change in conditions and wind and weather in the next three weeks that brings some newbies in.

In my first year (2018), I saw approximately 127 species new to me. I had obviously seen a few moths in my life before that. In 2019, the NFM list was 125, in 2020, when we had a run of very warm days and cold March nights, I only ticked 30 new species in the garden. For 2021, that number was 38. Things picked up considerably in 2022 and despite that fact that I was basically seeing mostly the same moths year after year, I recorded more diligently the micro moths and the macros too and had 64 new species, with Convolvulus Hawk-moth (attracted to my Nicotiana flowers) and the wonderful December Moth (also in late September) being the highlights of that season.

At the time of writing, I’ve recorded 19 new species in the garden and one elsewhere, Brindled Twist, which was in the local Les King Wood sitting next to a fairly rare Pyramidal Orchid.

So, as of 30th June, 482 (non-butterfly) moths and just 34 of those not in the garden. Incidentally, I have ticked only one new butterfly species so far this year, Dingy Skipper at Devil’s Dyke. In the previous two years, I’ve seen 6 new species each year. I am hoping to add one or two more to that short list in 2023, but it may not happen.

As I approach my fifth anniversary as a mother, my tally shows that I have recorded and photographed almost 500 species. The most recent was new to my garden – The Leopard Moth, Zeuzera pyrina.

There are several things of interest about this moth aside from the fact that it’s fairly large and white with spots of black (almost metallic blue, in some cases). First is that the adults, the flying creatures, as opposed to the larvae (caterpillars) have no working mouth parts and so cannot eat. There are several other species, such as the Emperor, which are in a similar predicament, as it were. They are to all intents and purposes flying sex machines and nothing else, to be frank.

A second point of interest to me, is that with a quick glance you can see that the males have feathered sensory antennae, they resemble those of the Willow Beauty males. But there is an important difference in structure. Where the Willow Beauty antennae resembles a feather along its length, the Leopard’s antennae are feathered half-way along their length and seem to end in a bare spine.

Now, the really interesting thing about the Leopard Moth, as pointed out to me by uber-mother Leonard Cooper, is its lifecycle. Once mated, the female lays clutches of eggs in damaged areas of bark in the larval foodplants (deciduous trees). The larvae hatch from the eggs and begin burrowing deeper into the wood, they tunnel out feeding galleries, eating wood (they’re xyophagous) and leaving frass (poo) in their wake. If the adults are flying sex machines, then the larvae are burrowing food machines.

Once they’ve had their fill and by some conditional trigger, the larvae burrow through the wood and then pupate just under the bark. Presumably, they find a damaged patch so that once they have completed their metamorphosis within the pupal form and are ready to emerge as adults, they can spread their wings and fly off to find a mate. To do so they will use up the food reserves built up during the time they were very hungry caterpillars. In the UK, you might see adults in flight from June to July.

Oh, when I said “very hungry caterpillars, they can spend two or three years feeding in the galleries they create within the stems and branches of the tree before pupating. Now, several moths overwinter as larvae or pupa. The Leopard is not quite exceptional in that it lives so long as a larvae, perhaps up to four years rather than just 2-3 years, the Goat Moth, too spends a long period within the trees, I am sure there are others.

As to my mothing for five years, do you seriously think I am looking for a new pastime? Do Leopards ever change their spots?