2021 is the year I discovered 35 new species of moth in our back garden

UPDATE: The Sprawler turned up in early November, bringing the total up to 36 new for the garden in 2021. No December moth yet, at the time of writing, sadly.

These Lepidoptera were all new for my back garden in Cottenham drawn to a 40 Watt ultraviolet “actinic” lamp on the night noted. Any of dubious ID I had confirmed from a photo by Sean Foote better known on Twitter as @MothIDUK to whom I am very grateful for the assistance and have put a tip in his tip jar.

The 35 species new for the garden in 2021 are as follows

7/3/21 – The Satellite
20/4/21 – Agonopterix purpurea* (To Myo lure)
10/5/21 – Esperia sulphurella
31/5/21 – Mottled Pug
2/6/21 – Brown Silver-line
4/6/21 – Hypena rostralis
4/6/21 – Buttoned Snout
6/6/21 – Aethes tesserana
6/6/21 – Red-belted Clearwing*
12/6/21 – Currant Clearwing*
13/6/21 – Yellow-legged Clearwing*
13/6/21 – Argyresthia curvella
14/6/21 – Red-tipped Clearwing*
16/6/21 – Orange-tailed Clearwing
24/6/21 – Hedya salicella
25/6/21 – Mompha ochraceella
4/7/21 – Aleimma loeflingiana
4/7/21 – Cnephasia agg.
11/7/21 – Plain Pug
15/7/21 – Dark Umber
19/7/21 – Raspberry Clearwing*
24/7/21 – Leek Moth
24/7/21 – Scarce Silver-lines
2/8/21 – Dewick’s Plusia (I’d only seen this moth previously in Greece)
4/8/21 – Helcystogramma rufescens
9/8/21 – Toadflax Brocade (Had larva in the garden in 2019)
19/8/21 – Yellow Belle
21/8/21 – Tawny-barred Angle
22/8/21 – Common Wave
23/8/21 – Udea lutealis
24/8/21 – Square-spot Rustic
1/9/21 – Aethes smeathmanniana
5/9/21 – Swammerdamia pyrella
19/9/21 – Beet Moth
10/10/21 – Acleris schalleriana
9/11/21 – The Sprawler

*Drawn to pheromone lure during the day, rather than actinic light at night. If non-target then pheromone is named

Numbers were very much down on my previous three seasons of trapping, never getting to more than a couple of hundred moths on any given lighting-up night and usually of 30-40 species on such nights. When I last counted (2/9/21) I’d seen about 4760 moths of 260 species. In 2019, I counted 12000 specimens and hadn’t lit up anywhere near as frequently in that year as I have during 2021. Early to mid-September got quite busy with a lot of Large Yellow Underwings and Setaceous Hebrew Characters etc.

The spring was cold and wet, summer was a bit of a washout too, but we had two or three warm spells in September.

Dewick’s Plusia
Common Wave
Scarce Silver-lines
Yellow-legged Clearwing

Birds spread their wings

A Cattle Egret (Bubulcus ibis) flew into Berry Fen when we visited a couple of days ago to settle among the eight Little Egrets feeding there. In so doing it spooked two of the six Glossy Ibis that were feeding on the edge of a flooded area and they flew off to join four others of that species.

Cattle Egret over Berry Fen near Earith, Cambridgeshire, October 2021. Sixteen of this species seen there, the following day (county record)

Apparently, there were fifteen additional Cattle Egret in a flock on the same patch the day after we visited, which is the largest recorded gathering of this species in Cambridgeshire. A county record, in other words. The bird is ostensibly an African species that has been extending its range over the last decade or two because of habitat opportunity and climate change.

UPDATE: There were a record 57 Cattle Egret at this site at the beginning of November. I have also now seen four at RSPB Ouse Fen on the Reedbed Trail side close to Over.

Spoonbill

UPDATE: Four Spoonbills at Kingfisher Bridge Nature Reserve during November 2021. 15 February 2022: Spoonbill at Smithy Fen.

Great White Egret, one of half a dozen seen at RSPB Fen Drayton, December 2020

Back in the early 1990s when we visited Botswana and Zimbabwe we saw lots of egrets and then were very surprised to see one or two on the North Norfolk coast in subsequent years. Little Egrets are, almost 30 years later rather commonplace. Similarly, the Great White Egret is seen in many parts now and a sighting is no longer considered particularly notable. I heard that part of the reason is that there is an abundance of red swamp crayfish in the lakes of northern France which have provided a food source and hopping off point for this species. The presence of at least a couple of dozen Glossy Ibis on our patch during the last year or so, may similarly be due to individuals spreading their wings from a known breeding colony in Southern Spain. The experts may know more, but I don’t think anyone knows for sure.

Glossy Ibis feeding on farmland adjacent to the River Cam at Chesterton, just outside Cambridge, Spring 2021

Ad libbed lyrics are just so easy come, easy go in some of my songs

Listen on BandCamp and SoundCloud

Having put together a song for Mrs Sciencebase that was about some of our shared experiences and made some kind of lyrical sense – The people we can be – I thought I’d go back to my usual unintelligible, stream-of-consciousness approach to lyric writing for my next song.

Basically, start a tune in demo form, ad lib some lyrics, burble a few of them incomprehensibly, write them down as best I can and then edit into a useable form for a proper recording. The only difference with this one is that I had a go at recording it using a Wikiloops instrumental backing track called Easy Come, Easy Go and the chorus morphed because of that to use that phrase rather than my allusion to repairing my head. In the end, I didn’t use the Wikiloops track and started from scratch with electric rather than acoustic guitar and built percussion and bass and then acoustic on top of my demo.

The title’s a bit of a cliche, but a little bit more understandable than the original and provides a stronger hook than what I’d thought of originally.

It’s on BandCamp and SoundCloud as usual.

Easy come, easy go

There’s a tension in the air
Always someone being so unkind
Never found the right time to make that repair
To my confounded state of mind

Didn’t see you out and about
You couldn’t bear to breathe the air
You’re clued up there is no doubt
But you missed your cue ’cause you just don’t care

And, I feel
That something is missing
The lonely aren’t kissing anyone
Just before the dawn, I will know
If it’s easy come, then it’s easy go

Did I mention it today?
They’re always looking for a fight?
Never found the peaceful way
To resolve the wrong from the right

And I feelThat someone is blessing
those second guessing everyone
Before the sunrise I will know
If it’s easy come, then it’s easy go

But, I feel
That we’re all missing
That we’re lonely and we’re messing with our heads
To think we really ought to know
That if it’s easy come, then it’s easy go

NB It was originally to be tacked on to my After the Lockdown album, but I’ve changed my mind about the three songs I’ve written since my mother’s death and they’re now part of a newly released Lifelines EP.

As usual, words and music by yours truly. Vocals, acoustic, electric, and bass guitars, percussion, production, mixing, and artwork too.

A song of courtship, love, memories, and a life together

Listen on SoundCloud or BandCamp

A lot of the lyrics to my songs come out ad lib when I have a go at recording a first-pass demo of a new tune. I usually then edit them into shape as the song evolves. But, sometimes they have a bit more of a story, and although the basics just emerge as I’m putting it together, they do get more craft occasionally. My latest conflates a couple of encounters Mrs Sciencebase and I have had with Paris over the years. The most recent encounter was from a high altitude, a few years ago we were flying back at night from a trip to Croatia and could see Paris from the airliner. The Eiffel Tower was illuminated and looked like a tiny golden dagger poking up from the cityscape.

The earlier encounter was a cold and snowy winter trip to the city back in the very early 1990s. We did all the usual sights including a trip to the top of the tower during the day. That evening we searched for a nice restaurant near our lodgings and stumbled upon a rather rustic place near the Bastille and shared a table with a couple of French gents. Neither of them spoke a lot of English and our French was Franglais at best, but we had a chat over a couple of carafes of red wine and ate some food. One of the things they were keen to know was what we thought of living in a monarchy…how we interpreted that conversation I don’t know, I think we lost the thread at one point, but basically, they wanted to know what we thought of The Queen. It was funny.

The airport race was our return from wintry Paris, we almost missed the flight, we hadn’t heard it called, and I think actually at the time they didn’t call flights at that airport. An airport attendant sought us out, mooching in the bucket seats, and chucked us on to the back of a luggage trailer and drove us like baggage to the aeroplane, threw us up the steps. The business travellers were might irritated that we’d delayed their flight home, but we thought it was funny and we didn’t miss our takeoff slot, so no harm done…and a story to tell.

I waited until we visited Greece the following year before I offered a proposal of marriage to Ms Sciencebase, who as you know accepted, long before Sciencebase was even a thing. Incidentally, the lock with T&D wasn’t ours, but it was clipped around a fence on a walk way in Dubrovnic we spotted on our visit to that beautiful city.

This song is for her, a rarity. Its tongue-in-cheek working title was Parisian Nights and then it became C’est la Vie but both phrases have been used a lot, so I’ve not settled on it being called People we can be.

You can listen on SoundCloud or BandCamp

People we can be

You remember how we flew home at night?
Head full of memories, I could tell
You shone when we caught sight of Paris
and smiled at the lights of La Tour Eiffel

It was so small, a golden dagger
In a playground of street life and bars
Full of the memories that make me stagger
A flashlight on streetlights and cars

Oh, how I wish I could find a way
To take us back to those nights, we’d see
The secret to happiness isn’t time or place
It’s the laissez faire of the c’est la vie
The secret to happiness isn’t time or place
It’s the finding the people we can be

The mighty drinkers in that old cafe
Who asked us all about The Queen
We shared their wine and spirit, I have to say
But we lost the thread, I felt so mean

We headed home along the banks of the Seine
I headed out on a limb
The easiest thing to do was to stake a claim
But, my mind was dulled and my eyes were dim

Oh, how I wish I could find a way
To take us back to those nights, we’d see
The secret to happiness isn’t time or place
It’s the laissez faire of the c’est la vie
The secret to happiness isn’t time or place
It’s finding the people we can be

We chased the plane in an airport race
Entangled in our own youth
Although I’d held back just to check out the place
What more did I need, in truth?

Just in from the critics: “Great song! Beautiful lyrics and melody, and it’s always good to hear that stripped-back acoustic guitar sound.”

Writing a song entitled “Blessed Release” was all I could do when my mother passed away

Blessed Release

You whispered to me just days in the past
It was the last time, now forever’s holding fast
I turn to music this moment cannot cease
But, I skipped a beat before the blessed release

The chords seemed faked, the melody obscure
There was give and take, but nothing too secure
Unchained, as they say, you’re free to find your peace
But for those left behind, there is no blessed release

Blessed release, it comes to us all
Obscure but unmoving
Our backs against the wall

Blessed release, the end of it all
No cure, no approval
You have to take the fall

I heard a sound, it was the sighing of the night
Cut through my breath, because the binding was so tight
There is a feeling, the growing mystery of that peace
I tried to write it down before the blessed release

For my late Mother

Listen on SoundCloud or BandCamp

All buzz and no sting

There was a bit of a buzz in our local Dissenter’s Cemetery here in Cottenham. Cemetery trustee James Blunt got in touch to tell me a bit about it. Turns out hundreds if not thousands of apian non-conformists had turned up and were partying at the rear of the graveyard.

I met up with James mid-afternoon and he directed me to the patch where Ivy Miner Bees (Colletes hederae) were actively mating and laying eggs. The bee is pretty much harmless, a solitary, as opposed to social, species that regularly adopts quiet patches of ground to “mine” hundreds of holes. The holes being the repository for new life among the granite and graves. The bees are noisy and fast-moving, but not an aggressive insect, all buzz and no bite, you might say.

The species is a recent arrival to The British Isles, having been first noted by entomologists in 2001, it having arrived from the continental mainland. It has been spreading its wings ever since and mining a home for its eggs on these quiet patches usually where a steady supply of autumnal blossom on ivy plants is nearby.

The Dissenters’ Cemetery as many residents might remember featured in an early episode of TV crime drama Silent Witness, which was originally set in and around Cambridge. Today, the cemetery’s gates, flanked famously by a huge pair of monkey puzzle trees welcomes all for long-term rest and respite. The site was established when Anglican burials of non-conformist parishioners was no longer possible. Back in the middle of the Victorian era. At the time, the Anglican priest was not allowed through the gates.

The Cemetery now welcomes mourners and other visitors who might in the spring and early summer notice the standing yellow spikes of mullein plants, the rare yellow-berried holly, and earlier still various species of snowdrops. At any time of year, they can puzzle over the meaning of life in the shadow of the trees and they might imagine the tragic tales of those who served in two World Wars who are buried here. Come the autumn, it is a small part of the apian world that might hold a visitor’s attention briefly. Life, as they say, will out…even among the graves.

Dumbing down is simple, but when you’re writing don’t try to dumb up

We all know the phrase “dumbing down”, it’s usually used as a rather dismissive phrase of content that has been written at a lower than expected intellectual level. TV, magazines, websites are said to be dumbing down if they over-simplify their message in an often vain attempt to attract or retain a bigger audience. It’s a miserable and cynical approach.

My approach to writing, and I’ve done a lot of it over the last three decades, has always been to write so that I can understand what I’ve written whether or not I’m writing for a specialist scientific or technical audience or a popular audience. So, when asked for a piece of writing advice recently on Twitter my first thought was to not do the opposite of dumbing down, which I’ve referred to there as dumbing up.

It would be just as cynical to make one’s writing overelaborate, more complicated, flouncy than it needs to be to get your point across. Moreover, there is a major pitfall in attempting to sound clever when you’re not – you end up looking stupid. You might use a word or phrase that you’ve heard for which you don’t know the actual definition and context in which it can be used, a reader who knows that word will know immediately that you’ve got it wrong and summarily dismiss your writing.

You need to know your audience, but perhaps more importantly, you need to know yourself, you need to be aware that your knowledge is limited and to not stretch your understanding beyond your capabilities. Of course, you can educate yourself on a subject and then, and only then, might you stretch your writing a little further, but always within the limits of that knowledge. Be aware of the known knowns, the unknown knowns, the unknown unknowns. Also be aware of bias arising from the very human ability to overestimate one’s abilities, The Dunning—Kruger effect. As they once told you – Keep it simple, stupid. Dumbing up is dumb.

At the height of summer you will find plenty of Lepidoptera at the almost legendary Fleam Dyke

Mrs Sciencebase and myself visited the July Racecourse end of Devil’s Dyke near Newmarket back in July and saw literally hundreds of Chalkhill Blue butterflies and dozens of Marbled White as well as a couple of Dark Green Fritillary.

It was tip-off from a couple I met by chance in a woodland who were “twitching” a White Letter Hairstreak at Overhall Grove (Nick & Stella). All of this was mentioned in my Woodwalton NNR blog post at the time. The same couple pointed me in the direction of the Cambs and Essex branch of Butterfly Conservation website, to which members add their sightings on a very timely basis.

Treble-bar

I’d missed seeing Clouded Yellow on the wildflower margin at Waresley Wood up the hill from Browns’ Piece this year, not surprising given the farmer had ploughed it for some reason and put a load of signs up warning off walkers from venturing anywhere near his land.

Chalkhill Blues courting

Anyway, the C&E branch had an update regarding another dyke, Fleam Dyke, near the one I mentioned earlier. Chalkhill Blues there and Clouded Yellow. So I took a trip there on the first sunny morning for a few weeks. I was perhaps too late for the Clouded Yellow. Although their season does extend into the autumn, they’re a rare migrant anyway, so you have to be lucky.

However, parking up at the Fulbourn Fen car park and walking from there to Fleam Dyke and to the far end of the ridge Mutlow Hill, I was rewarded with a fair few Lepidoptera – Common Blue, Brown Argus, Brimstone butterfly, Red Admiral, Painted Lady, Gatekeeper, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood, Small Tortoiseshell, European Peacock, Chalkhill Blue, Large and Small White. There were numerous moths around – Silver Y, Yponomeuta sp., Garden Carpet, Treble-bar.

I had planned to head to Devil’s Dyke after walking Fleam Dyke for more “Chalks”, but changed my mind as it clouded over. I learned later from the Cambs & Essex page that someone had spotted a solitary Adonis Blue there, which would’ve been a new species to me. Ah well.

Social sensitivities could make us cancel the Gypsy Moth

UPDATE: As of March 2022, American lepidopterists officially know Lymantria dispar as the Spongy Moth. It will be interesting to see whether this new vernacular name is adopted this side of The Atlantic too.

The proposed name comes from the common name used in France and French-speaking Canada, Spongieuse, and alludes to the spongy mass of eggs laid by the females.

In the US and elsewhere, there’s been a call to give many plants and animals new vernacular names because their well-known common names contain terms and words considered inappropriate. The Gypsy Moth, Lymantria dispar, is a case in point.

L. dispar was, according to the UK Moths website, “a common species in the East Anglian and southern fens” in the early 1800s, a century later it was extinct as a breeding species here. Meanwhile, having been introduced to North America in 1869 it has spread there and become a larval pest of deciduous trees. It is already more properly known as the LDD Moth in North America, for the extant sub-species there Lymantria dispar dispar.

Back in Old Blighty, the species had somewhat recovered in London by 1995 and has spread across its old stamping grounds. I saw my first male L. dispar to the actinic light on the night of the 5th August 2020, only my third season of mothing. On the almost balmy night of 22nd August 2021, there were three males in the garden. Incidentally, the females are larger and bulkier than the males and mostly white. The larvae are tiny and can disperse readily on a breath of wind.

The term “Gypsy” (more commonly Gipsy in English until recently) originated in the early 17th Century and derives from gypcian, a Middle English dialectic word meaning “Egyptian“. Of course, the Roma to whom the term has pejoratively and inappropriately been applied were of Indian ancestry rather than North African. The term is generally considered offensive when referring to itinerant ethnic groups and so there is a pressing need to find new names for a range of plants and animals – Gypsy Wort, Gypsy Ant, and, of course, the Gypsy Moth.

I wonder whether the entomologists would consider calling L. dispar the “Dusky Underwing”. I don’t think that name has been used for another member of the Lepidoptera. The male of the species has a passing resemblance to the Catocala species, such as the Red Underwing and the Dark Crimson Underwing at least while their hindwings are not exposed. And, there are many other unrelated “underwing” moths, such as the various and diverse yellow underwings, orange underwing, straw underwing and the black underwing (now usually known as the Old Lady and previously the Grave Brocade). #TeamMoth #MothsMatter

Forgive me, I thought I was writing a new blog article but when I looked at the one I did when I saw L. dispar in the garden for the first time in 2020, I seem to have repeated myself.