Can moths fly in the rain?

TL:DR – Can moths fly in the rain? Some definitely can. I suspect many would prefer not to.


9th August 2018 was the first proper day of rain in VC29 (Vice county Cambridgeshire) since May, there were a few spots and a bit of storminess earlier in the month, but a proper drizzle turned to a downpour yesterday. I was not holding out much hope of a night of mothing. So, I asked the members of the Moths UK Flying Tonight Facebook group thought about “lighting up” on a wet night.

First response was not a positive one: “Don’t bother if it’s raining, nothing much will be flying.” But, subsequent responders said that they “had some great moths on rainy nights!” And suggested it might be worth lighting up, after all.

“Some of my best catches have been on wet nights especially if it is drizzly and not too heavy…I have trapped on many a rainy night and had some of my best catches on them, I don’t usually bother if its heavy rain but drizzle to light rain is still worth it as long as not too windy I find…Moths don’t mind the rain. I’ve had some of my best nights during drizzle, even steady rain. As long as you waterproof everything you will be fine…It’s the wind, not the rain, that I find is dire for mothing..cold wet and windy being fatal.”

Another useful reply was to set up the trap under a white patio umbrella is you have one. “The moths came happily and perched under the umbrella as well as going into the trap.”

So after all that I let the moths make their choice and was rewarded with a few: Broad-bordered Yellow Underwing, Mother of Pearl, 3-4 Setaceous Hebrew Characters, a Turnip, 1 a Silver Y, and 4-5 unidentified micro moths. That was it. It was worth a try but I think the rain got heavier in the night and the wind picked up. I reckon I will set up on the garden table next time if it’s raining and put some white sheeting under our patio umbrella…

The Perseid Meteor Shower

UPDATE: Actually… You will see them anywhere in the sky, just watch for light trails.

Find somewhere dark on a clear night this weekend, away from light pollution, if you can, after 11pm or thereabouts. Look North East…find the constellation of Perseus (it’s just below the constellation that looks like a big stretched out letter W, Cassiopeia). The Perseids, as their name suggests will radiate from Perseus. At the peak, night of 12th August, you could be lucky and see them at a rate of one every minute for several hours.

VirtualAstro just got in touch to alert me to the fact that the Perseid Meteor Shower will peak this weekend. He has the skinny on when and how to watch. “I want to make things easy for people who haven’t done meteor spotting before,” he told me. “This year, I want people to easily understand how to meteor watch and spend more time looking up rather than down at their phones etc. Meteor showers are perfect for introducing people to stargazing and hopefully it will inspire more people to do it more regularly and get more and more people interested in science, nature and the night sky.”

There is a caveat though…it’s raining here right now after the longest hot and dry spell for many years, let’s hope the skies are clear again this weekend.

The Perseids are a prolific meteor shower associated with fragments from the comet Swift—Tuttle. They get their name from the radiant point at which they appear to emerge, which is seen in the constellation Perseus.

Elephant Hawk-moth – Deilephila elpenor

Having scored high on the first morning with the trap in its owner Rob’s garden – Poplar Hawk Moth, Blood-vein, Buff Ermine, Burnished Brass – and then the next morning in our garden – Ruby Tiger, Canary-shouldered Thorn, Jersey Tiger – I had high hopes for the last couple of weeks.

Indeed, the moth-ing has been rewarding so startling and stunning creatures have turned up – Setaceous Hebrew Character, The Spectacle, Pale Prominent, Willow Beauty, Mother of Pearl, Angle Shades etc etc…about 50 different species I have identified with some assistance from Brian Stone, Rob Ellis, Leonard Cooper, and others, as well as Ian Kimber’s excellent and comprehensive UK Moths site.

However, this morning’s haul looked less hopeful, especially when opening the trap at least three or four large-ish moths (Yellow Underwing and another not identified) escaped into the shrubbery in a flash (of yellow under their wings). Extracting the cardboard egg trays gingerly nevertheless and observing some of the familiar species  Brimstone, Silver Y, Turnip, Least Carpet – I turned over the last of the four and there was the beauty of this blog post title – Elephant Hawk-moth – with its olive-green and, almost-lurid pink colouration.

The Elephant sat a spell for a few closeups and then tentatively clambered about a proffered twig and began its quivering to warm up in the early morning sun. I could see it quivering and feel the vibration through the twig. It then hopped on to a leaf of our apple tree for a few final poses before disembarking and heading for the ivy-clad fence and upwards and onwards towards our neighbour’s garden and freedom in their hedge. To fly another day…or, rather, night.

Incidentally, its common name comes from the fact its larvae (caterpillars) look like an elephant’s trunk. Intriguingly, and as you might expect for such a colourful moth, the Elephant Hawk-moth has very sensitive eyes and was one of the first animals in which nocturnal colour vision was reported by science. Chemists have used gas chromatography and mass spectrometry to identify the female sex pheromones as  (11E)-11-hexadecenal and (10E,12E)-10,12-hexadecadienal [(E,E)-bombykal] – https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007%2FBF01920249.

The Elephant Hawk-moth is not uncommon in the UK, especially across the lowlands of southern England. Usually a night-flyer May to July, so quite lucky to catch one more than a week into August as their season tails off. The weather had changed somewhat yesterday from the persistent heat and dry windless days and nights to a smattering of raindrops and a bit of wind and a modest decline in temperature.

Angle Shades – Phlogophora meticulosa

I think the name of this moth, Angle Shades, would make a great name for a progressive rock band, their first album would, of course, be Phlogophora meticulosa. The species gets its common name from its characteristic forewing markings. The base colour is buff, brown towards the edge of the wing most distant from the body, the termen.

Angle Shades is marked with a bold V-shaped pink and green marking. Overall, the colouration and angular markings create a disruptive camouflage. To my eye seeing this moth for the first time in the trap on the morning of 2018-08-06 it looked very much like a small autumnal leaf, at least it did until I donned my reading glasses.

Angle Shades is a member of the Noctuidae, also known as the owlet moths. It is found across Europe all the way to the Ural Mountains, but is also seen in The Azores, Algeria, and in Asia Minor, Armenia, and Syria. It is a strongly migratory.

Focus-stacked sideview of Angle Shades taken on a Canon R7 with a Tamron 90mm 1:1 macro lens
Focus-stacked sideview of Angle Shades taken on a Canon R7 with a Tamron 90mm 1:1 macro lens – April 2024

And, speaking of which my friend Bea Perks once wrote about the Silver Y (Autographa gamma) and the fact that to be able to migrate, this moth, and presumably many others, have to fly at an altitude of about 1 kilometre otherwise they don’t survive long enough to reach their destinations.

This is the Silver Y:

Carpentry with a Scalloped Oak

It sounds like a woodworking term, Scalloped Oak, but it is in fact a moth: Crocallis elinguaria. Here is one specimen that was in the trap this morning, it was a dewy night, there was very little else in the trap, a few Turnips, a Setaceous Hebrew Character, a Yellow Underwing and various micro moths. I believe this is a female, it is paler than the other C. elinguaria I’ve seen in the trap over the last week. They vary a lot in colouration and shading, however. The adults are night-flyers and attracted to light.

The Scalloped Oak, so-named for the brown band across its wings that looks like a piece of oak that has been, well, scalloped. Its scientific name is a little more intriguing. The Crocalis is from Latin and alludes to yellow colouration. elinguaria means “without a tongue”. These moths do not feed, all their feeding was done when they were at the larval stage and the adults are simply sex machines. We could perhaps call it the the yellow, tongueless, sex machine moth.

X-ray moth

It was dark outside, but very few moths seemed to be around last night (31 July 2018), a Brimstone, a few micro-moths, a couple of Underwings and a Setaceous Hebrew Character. Other moth followers are reporting the same this morning, almost nothing in their traps. Given that this time last week we had a bumper haul of all sorts in the Rob Ellis trap, perhaps autumn is upon us.

Anyway, this Riband Wave (Idaea aversata f.remutata) alighted on one of the trap’s flight baffles not long after dark. I illuminated it from behind with a phone torch and snapped it from the other side with camera on a tripod…looks like a soft tissue X-ray or something…ish.

Airy discs and keeping it sharp

In optics (and thence photography, microscopy, and telescopy), the Airy disc is the optimally focused spot of light that a perfect lens with a circular aperture can make. It is the diffraction limit. It’s named after George Biddell Airy who wrote a detailed description although astronomer John Herschel had described the phenomenon when observing a bright star through his telescope.

Rubinar-1000 plus 2x K-1 telekonv Airy disk 1The Airy disk is a bright spot of light surrounded by concentric diffraction rings, all together they are referred to as an Airy pattern. The wavelength of the light and aperture size of the lens is critical to the size of the resulting pattern.

Airy disk D65

The old pinhole camera is at the diffraction limit, almost a point-like circular aperture. Due to this diffraction effect, the smallest point to which light can be focused with lens (or mirror) is the size of the Airy disk. Of course, lenses are not perfect and apertures are rarely circular, in a lens for an SLR and other types of camera they are usually made up of an array of six overlapping fins, (sometimes more, sometimes less. More means more circular and so better, and TV and cinematic film cameras often have 8 fins and so produce octagonal, rather than hexagonal bokeh. 8-finned cameras seem to have a much-improved image quality over more those with a more conventional 6-finned aperture.

Anyway, if Airy discs, light’s wavelength, and the lens aperture conspire to produce a diffraction limit, then it is pixel size in your camera’s sensor that “sees” this limit. It’s possible to calculate the diffraction limit. So, if your lens can be set to an aperture of f/2 (that’s the biggest aperture), the diffraction limit for green light with that aperture is about 2.7 micrometres. Dave Haynie discusses this in more detail here.

Now, f/2 is a low f-stop for most lenses. The Sigma 150-600mm with which I have photographed birds recently using my Canon 6D, can be set to f/5 when it’s at 150mm focal length, but only as low as f/6.3 at 600mm. That’s the biggest apertures it can manage. A larger aperture means more light in and exposure balanced against shutter speed and ISO number. My 90mm Tamron macro lens with which I have been photographing moths, has its biggest aperture at f/2.3.

Larger aperture means a smaller depth of field. The parts of the image that are closer or further away than the point at which you have focused the camera will be out of focus with a larger aperture (smaller f-stop). If you want a larger depth of field, then you need a smaller aperture, which means less light and critically from the perspective of sharpness, you begin to approach the diffraction limit. This occurs because of the Airy disc effect and how that coincides with the pixels on your camera’s sensor. To get a sharp image, you need the Airy Disc to be smaller than a pixel, realistically smaller than 2-3 pixels, explains Haynie. If you make the aperture bigger the Airy disc becomes bigger and so each perfect point of light will inevitably traverse a larger number of pixels, which is not what you want. Rather, you want each pinpoint of light from the object you are photographing to impinge on a single pixel.

This is where balance and compromise must come into play. A smaller aperture gives a larger depth of field, which is more important when doing close-up macro photography of small objects such as moths. So, you push the f-stop to a higher number to get a greater depth of field. Now, with small aperture, you are approaching that Airy problem. If you have a point-and-shoot camera, the sensor is only a few millimetres across, a two-thirds sensor (common on consumer-level dSLRs) is a lot bigger, although still smaller than the full-frame (35mm) sensor of professional dSLRs, and of course even that is a whole lot smaller than a medium-format digital back. (All of this feeds into why the highest quality photography, even in terms of film cameras) is often most associated with medium and large format.

Okay. So smaller aperture means a larger depth of field, but that means a bigger Airy disc, which means you need larger pixels (and the same number) to overcome the diffraction limit and get a sharper, better quality image.

Haynie has a Canon 60D, which he says has 4.3 micrometre pixels size. The Airy problem doesn’t arise at f/2.0, which such a camera. However, the pixels in older Smart Phone cameras are a lot smaller, perhaps 1 micrometre on a tiny sensor chip in order to cram as many as the market demands on such a small area. This means sharpness can be very limiting in older phones and many modern ones too. HTC and Apple have actually increased the size of the pixels on their sensors rather than increasing the megapixel count to overcome the Airy problem to some effect. Megapixel count always was marketing BS, anyway, because of all of the above and many other factors. Cheaper cameras (point and shot and/or phone) don’t have an aperture control or if they do it’s f/2 to a minimum aperture size of about f/4. You won’t be able to push it to f/8 or anywhere useful for depth of field. The size of the sensor and the pixels crammed in always mean passing the Airy border.

For that Canon 60D, stopping down to f/8 approaches the boundary as the Airy disc is about 10.7 micrometres at this aperture, stop to f/11 and it is 14.3 micrometres which is definitely larger than the width of 3 pixels on this camera. Contrast this with my Canon 6D, which has a full-frame (35mm) sensor. The pixels are a little over 6.5 micrometres and so I will be safe from Airy up to f/11. Take it to f/16 and it crosses the boundary. I reckon f/8 or f/9.5 would be the sweet spot for my moth macro setup. Assuming there’s sufficient light to keep the ISO low to avoid noise and the shutter speed short enough to avoid camera shake. I could use a tripod and remote shutter release with mirror lockup but that’s quite cumbersome when chasing small moving targets like moths. I do have the option of using Tamron’s onboard image stabilisation, which is worth two stops of shutter speed, so I can keep shutter long enough to let sufficient light in to avoid high ISO without introducing too much camera shake.

Your mileage will vary depending on what camera you are using. The Cambridge in Colour site has a more detailed explanation of Airy discs and a table to help you work out the optimal f-stop for your camera model. When you fill the form in it also simulates an Airy Pattern on your sensor, so you can see whether you’re at the limit with your camera for a given f-stop. f/8 is often considered a sweet spot, balancing reasonably large depth of field with minimal aberration due to Airy disc effect. The diagram below generated on the Cambridge site shows why this is the case.

More and more moths

I am gradually adding moth species to my lepidoptera gallery on Imaging Storm. There are some 2600 different species in the UK alone (160000 worldwide). I’ve photographed and released about 50 so far since enlisting the help of a light trap.

As of 21 Sep 2018, less than two months in, I had doubled that number.

Still hoping for more Hawk-moths (only seen a Poplar and an Elephant in Cottenham so far, and a pair of Privet last year). The Jersey Tiger is the most unusual and unlikely, I’ve seen, although it never entered the trap just hung around in the dark and ultimately rested on the outside of the box. There is some hint that this native of the Channel Islands has spread north but some enthusiasts are propagating them in more far-flung places; they shouldn’t be doing that.

The slowly increasing list of species I have photographed and identified can be found at the foot of my Lepidoptera – Moths and Butterflies page on Imaging Storm. I reached 100+ species in my first two months of mothing. A year after I started I had logged more than 250 species, still just about 10 percent of all the species native to the British Isles!

Moth of the moment – The Setaceous Hebrew character

The Setaceous Hebrew Character (Xestia c-nigrum) is a moth of the Noctuidae family of moths, also known as the owlets. It is relatively common in Europe, Asia, and is also found in North America. Its wingspan ranges from 35 to 45 millimetres. This species flies for two seasons each year – May to June and then again in greater numbers from August to September. They are attracted to light and enjoy the flowers of buddleia bushes, ivy, and ragwort. If you’re a moth-trapper, you will have seen dozens if not hundreds in your trap in late summer.

So far so standard. But, it’s that name that intrigues me. Moths, of which there are some 2600 different species in the UK alone have some rather fascinating names – Map-winged Swift, Variegated Golden Tortrix, Oak Processionary, Blood-vein, and the rather mundane sounding, Least Carpet – to name but a few.

The word “Setaceous”, simply means bristly. But, the “Hebrew Character” part of this moth’s name refers to the markings on its wings. The forewings of this species are reddish-brown and bear a dark, almost black, mark that resembles the Hebrew letter nun, with a pale cream-coloured area adjacent to this mark.

Not to be confused with a second moth in the Noctuidae, the Hebrew Character, Orthosia gothica, that also bears a Hebrew nun on each forewing, although the two species are not particularly closely related despite appearances. It’s interesting to note (per Matthew Oates in his book In Pursuit of Butterflies) that The Setaceous Hebrew Character was the nickname of lepidopterist, entomologist, birdwatcher, and chemist Baron Charles de Worms (1904-1980), a balding and eccentric character of Austrian-Jewish heritage who worked at Porton Down and was a cancer specialist.

 

Rooks, rooks, croaks, and crooks

I always assumed that the chess piece we know as a “rook”, which resembles a castle was named for the bird, there being some link with ravens in towers and turrets, perhaps.

 

But, it’s nothing of the sort…
 
The word was coined around 1300 and comes from Old French “roc”, which in turn comes from the Arabic “rukhkh”, and that from a Persian word “rukh”, which may in turn come from the Indian name for the piece, “rut”, from the Hindi “rath” meaning “chariot.”
Of course, if I’d known my chess history, I’d have known about the mediaeval game “shatranj” where the rook symbolizes a chariot. But, it might also represent a siege tower after that. The original Indian game had chaturanga meaning also meaning chariot, but the modern version of that game calls those pieces “elephant”. Some people call the rook a castle and “castling” is a chess manoeuvre involving two pieces (king and rook) swapping relative positions in a single move. Does any of that have anything to do with the name of the old coaching inn, “The Elephant and Castle”, for which the area of South London is named? Probably not. Although the E&C statue is of an elephant carrying what looks very much like a chess rook on its back and that is an early gaming piece in chess evolution.
Anyway, he name of the bird, on the other hand, the Rook, comes from Old English hroc, and is perhaps onomatopoeic of the bird’s raucous call, which is something of a croak, a word that comes from the Sanskrit “kruc” meaning to cry out. Moreover, a rook is a 16th century word for someone who cheats at cards or dice. The word “crook” itself, which you might think is somehow related, was originally a word specifically for a devilishly dishonest trick.
Of course, a word that was bandied about a lot during the US presidential elections was “crooked”, a term pertaining to someone cheating, but also simply meaning bent as in a shepherd’s crook. But, the word bent also means crooked in both senses, but someone hell-bent is determined to get what they want, perhaps by hook or by crook.
Don’t you just love etymology?