Category: Lepidoptera

A beautiful immigrant from Southern Europe turned up in our garden last night, attracted to the 40-Watt ultraviolet light of the scientific moth trap. At first glance, I thought it was a confusing aberration of the Silver Y, but it wasn’t quite right, the Y/gamma didn’t have the Y-shape and the other markings and overall shape were wrong. It turns out it is quite a rare vagrant visitor to the British Isles – Dewick’s Plusia, Macdunnoughia confusa (Stephens, 1850).

In the 20th Century it was recorded only a few dozen times, and is generally seen on the south and east coasts when it does hit our shores, most commonly in August but can appear any time between July and October. However, records are close to 500 now.

Anyway, it’s the middle of September and we are miles from the coast. The Cambridgeshire County Moth Recorder tells me that they’re regular but not common in the county, there have been 3-4 recorded for the last three years or so.

The moth was named for A. J. Dewick who is from Bradwell-on-Sea in Essex. It is found across continental Europe to Siberia and down to Lebanon and Israel, and even Japan.

UPDATE: I’ve been mothing for five years as of July 2023. Always love to see Burnished Brass when it appears. Here’s the latest, although there were two that morning.

One of the more eye-catching of the moths I’ve seen during more than a year of mothing goes by the name of Burnished Brass (Diachrysia chrysitis). This is also an owlet moth, one of the noctuids, the noctuidae. It rests with its wings folded into a tent shape as many of them do, but what makes it stand out is that, as its name would suggest, it looks metallic. It shimmers in the sunlight and as it begins to warm it set its wings aquiver to speed up the process, revving its engines, as it were, before it can fly away into the garden shrubbery to vanish from sight. But, not before a quick photoshoot, of course.

For materials scientists, such shimmering is very much of interest. The scales on the wings of the moths and butterflies, the Lepidoptera (which simply means scaly, or tiled, wings) are inspirational for those looking to mimic the reflective, iridescent, and photonic properties of natural materials. I wrote about Burnished Brass for the magazine section of the journal Materials Today not long after I spotted my first one in the scientific trap in July 2018.

As of 9th September 2019, I have tallied more than 10000 moth specimens of approximately 300 different species via the scientific trap. I started trapping this year on 20th February and there have been a few short breaks for holidays in between lighting-up sessions. And then there was the outage when I smashed the UV light…

These numbers represent a tiny fraction of the total number of moths that will have passed through our garden in that time and the species count is barely 12 percent of the total number of species in the British Isles.

The red barchart shows the peaks and troughs of total numbers counted after each trapping session. Going from blanks some mornings to a handful in the winter months and into spring and then peaking with several hundred of a few dozen different species at various times during July and then late August (when we had a very hot spell with Cambridge breaking temperature records).

The blue of the chart shows the species count for each session. This peaked on 10th July with 60 different species, and perhaps more micro moths that I am too inexpert to have tallied on the day. There were 276 specimens in and around the trap come the morning of that day. The biggest tally was 27th August with 421 moths of some 43 different species.

For a complete listing of all species with vernacular and scientific names and, of course, record shots of each, check out my Mothematics Gallery on Imaging Storm. I’ve logged 321 moths species (most of them during the period July 2018 to September 2019 and most of those using the garden trap. A dozen or so in the gallery were photographed elsewhere.

I wrote about why scientific moth trapping is an important endeavour earlier in the year and how the modern amateur approach involves releasing the moths alive once tallied/photographed. Someone claimed that there are hundreds of thousands of people mothing. There aren’t. But, given that a single pipistrelle bat eats around 300 flying insects every night it is easy to see that in a country village where there might be three or four people trapping regularly, the bats are taking far more moths out of circulation than moth-ers.

As you can see from this small selection of my photos, moths are anything but grey and beige. Many fly during the day, many are brightly coloured, some are just sex machines (they don’t have mouthparts and don’t eat), all of them from the humblest micro to the biggest we have in the UK, the Privet Hawk-moth are astonishing examples of biological diversity in the invertebrate world.

The Large Yellow Underwing is the kind of moth we used to call a logger when I was a bairn; Northern dialect word, short for loggerhead. On a warm summer’s evening there would almost always be a logger that would be attracted to a kitchen light and come in through an open window. I must confess I don’t ever remember seeing this species, Noctua pronuba (Linnaeus, 1758), specifically, and certainly don’t recall ever noticing any big moths that revealed brightly coloured hindwings when they were startled or fly. Like most people, until they learn, it’s assumed butterflies are colourful and moths are all brown, grey and dowdy. Simply not true.

Anyway, I’ve more than made up for any childhood failings in terms of moth observation over the last year or so. This summer alone I have caught and released more than 1000 moths of just this one species in my scientific trap, the peak was 148 specimens on the night of 26th August 2019. I’ve recorded their numbers and occasionally photographed them along with more than 300 other species of Lepidoptera (the word means scaly winged and also applies to the butterflies, which are really just a type of moth, anyway, there’s only any real distinction made in British English, because of the bipolar nature of our language with its Germanic and Latinate roots).

Anyway, I wanted to know the etymology of logger/loggerhead. Obviously, there’s the whaling term referring to a large post at the prow of a whaling vessel around which the harpoon rope would be slung to hold fast the catch. There are loggerhead turtles and the word is sometimes used to refer to a foolish person, someone thick as two short planks, and apparently, tadpoles.

Bill Griffith in his Dictionary of North East Dialect (Northumbria University Press, 2nd edn 2005). Refers to a logger as being a coloured butterfly. And mentions that it might also be used to refer to moths. He quotes its usage:

A've been doon the born coppin loggerheads

A literal translation from the Geordie would be: I have been to the burn looking at coloured butterflies/moths. But, figuratively it is a way of responding to the question “Wheor hev yee been?” (Where have you been?) with a curt “Mind your own business!”.

I’ve mention Peter Marren’s book on Lepidoptera nomenclature before – Emperors, Admirals, and Chimney Sweepers. It’s a fascinating read, especially if you love words and lepidoptera. But, if you enjoy either one of those things you’ll enjoy his book. Anyway, this morning, I had need to refer to it and put my various moth pots from the scientific trap next to it…ooh, I thought as I did so: photo opportunity. There are seven actual moths posing on my copy of the book in the photo immediately below. Can you spot them?

On the upper picture there is an Angle Shades, a Canary-shouldered Thorn, an Orange Swift, a Green Carpet, a Ringed China-mark, a Coronet, and a Garden Carpet. Did you spot them all?

I’ve simplified my Imaging Storm “Mothematics” photo galleries. We now have – Butterflies, Hawk-moths, Macro Moths, and Micro Moths instead of dividing the macros between geometers, owlets, erebidae, notodontidae, lasiocampidae, drepanidae, and everything else.

Peppered Moth – one of the geometers

You can take a look at my detailed mothing records for 2019 here.

The mercury had been rising for a few days, nudging up the little iron shims on the garden’s max-min thermometer by mid-afternoon. Three days on the trot it has peaked at a little over 30 Celsius in the shade despite it having been a Bank Holiday Weekend. Nights have been sultry, as they say in a certain kind of pulp fiction. Humid, and the mercury not nudging the iron bars below about 16 Celsius.

Of course, these are not extremes, these are puny temperatures when compared to much of the rest of the world. But, this is England and our weather is tempered by the Gulf Stream and admonished of late by global warming. It’s been good for the night-flying creatures you know I love. Both the bats and the moths.

The moths far outnumber the bats of course. In the scientific trap, drawn to the 40 Watt actinic, UV light, there were at least 421 leps of more than 43 species (highest density but not diversity so far for me in my garden in 2019).

I keep a detailed record, but some of the micro-moths, the grass veneers, for instance, don’t always get segregated in my logs, so where I say Satin Grass-veneer or Chrysoteuchia culmella, it is possible that I’ve overlooked a distinct species of the 2000 or so micro moths of the British Isles.

For the macro moths, I’m 99.9% certain I’m naming them and logging all of those correctly, albeit with an occasional escapee before it is ticked. There are around 500 macro moths in this country. Worldwide there are some 170,000 species of moths. #MothsMatter. I lodge rarities, interesting migrants, and vagrants that turn up with iRecord and the Cambridgeshire County Moth Recorder. Amazingly, of this morning’s haul not one of the specimens was new to the garden nor even new for the year, I’ve seen and photographed all of the species listed below several times.

Oh, by the way, in case you didn’t know, Lepidoptera means “scaly winged” and butterflies are essentially a sub-group of moths, they all having a common moth ancestor way back in evolutionary history. All leps are descended from a common ancestor with the caddisflies (of which many often turn up in the trap too).

We like to take at least a couple of camping trips during the summer. It used to be that we would do three or four when the children were still coming along with us but that’s almost ancient history now. Anyway, there are several very important things to remember when camping:

Once you arrive, first things first:

1. Unpack the tent, get it erected
2. Make sure the pre-chilled beer gets stowed somewhere cool if not cold and crack one open as a reward for being so efficient with putting the tent up.
3. Then, it’s time to check the toilet blocks. Not for imminent ablutions after a long drive to the site, but to see if there are any local Lepidoptera in attendance.

Arriving at this week’s site on the more Easterly coast of North Norfolk coast where there are seals to be seen on the beach, we spotted quite a haul of toilet block moths. A Silver Y and a Flounced Rustic in the gents, but on the wall outside the Ladies, a Red Underwing and a Treble-bar (Aplocera plagiata, Linnaeus, 1758), which unlike the Red Underwing the others was new to me, although it was initially vaguely familiar as I’d seen it post by fellow moth-ers on at least one Facebook group prior to our trip.

The campsite was quite special, it had at least four toilet and one shower block and almost all of them had various ‘veneers’ in most of the buildings. With Mrs Sciencebase in tow as a chaperone also pot in hand we identified Small Emerald, Light Emerald, another much larger ’emerald’, and new for us a Magpie!

We will head for the beach when the campers are quiet and hopefully see the seals out of the water. There were half a dozen swimming near the shore but not landing as too many people and too many dogs. Despite appearances, seals are not evolved from dogs nor cats, rather they have a shared ancestor with otters. Whatever their heritage they would be unlikely to want to approach a domestic dog either way. Although that said, the ones we saw early in the trip were all very curious to see who these landlubbers are. There were also lots of Little Terns diving and quartering up an down the shore. Later that evening a Beautiful Plume, moth, a Straw Underwing and a Flounced Rustic in the red toilet block.

Next morning I got up at 6:30am and headed to the beach with zoom lens and rewarded by the sight of a single female Harbour Seal on the shoreline and a first winter Wheatear too. I was at least 30 metres away when I took this shot. The “authorities” suggest you stay at least 10 metres away.

On the back to the tent with breakfast in mind, the toilet blocks again, but there were Silver Y, Straw Underwing, and a Canary-shouldered Thorn.

Mrs Sciencebase found a Sharp-angled Peacock and another Treble-bar in the green ladies’ block. Incidentally, the campsite was home to a decent-sized flock of Starling and lots of Pied Wagtail, and a few summer visiting Swallows and House Martins. We also heard a Nightingale on the first night somewhere beyond one of the site’s corners. And on subsequent nights Tawny Owl, and at least one other species of owl.

A new camper turned up one evening with a tent perched on the top of his builder’s white van. Took him an age to set it all up with many trips in between the job where he headed off to the other side of the campsite and refitted somebody else’s caravan and then I heard him giving a quote to a dog walker in the dunes for a castle built on sand, typical builder.

Later: Blood-vein in green toilet block that night.

Next day was a chilly morning but with another Magpie in the Yellow toilet block. Also, Brimstone and Yellow-tail in the red block. The stars the next night were magnificent and the moths forgotten for a while as we gazed in awe at the Milky Way and discussed the meaning of life and the decline in Earth’s total biomass in some regions of Europe. We also played spot the satellite of which there were many heading to and fro across the night sky. Final morning, no new moths in the giant moth trap that is the array of toilet blocks on this site other than a Swallow Prominent high up on the outside wall of the green toilet block.

I also just about caught the sunrise over the North Sea at a little before 6am. Horrible phone photo though

 

 

My very good friend Ladybird Farmer, she of the multiple smallholding emoji, was impressed with the last moth blog post and suggested I do a count down of the Top Ten for the year. Well, while I’m holding out for a Merveille du Jour in September and perhaps a December Moth in November, I could have a go at picking out my favourites so far that perhaps highlight the incredible diversity of the 2600 or so Lepidoptera that we see across the British Isles.

Of course, all the ones that I’ve photographed were in our small back garden in a rural, but urbanised village north of Cambridge, so it’s quite a limited range. Nevertheless, there are some stunning moths to see here that highlight very well the fact that the leps really aren’t all drab brown and grey flittery things.

I must confess it’s difficult to choose, they’re all wonderful in their own way, all of the Hawk-moth I’ve seen this year are large and quite stunning, the Oak Eggar was a particular highlight almost glowing in the UV, the gentle and ghostly fluttering of Swallow-tailed Moths was a treat as was the likes of the Chocolate-tip turning up, the Iron Prominents, Marbled Beauty, and The Vapourer, which once again Mrs Sciencebase spotted before me. Some of the micros are quite stunning like Pyrausta aurata, Small Magpie, the Small China-mark, Pearl Grass-veneer, Orange=spotted Shoot, and the Bird-cherry Ermine. Even the greys and browns have their own intrigue from the Cabbage to the Turnip, the Pale Mottled Willow to the Mottled Rustic.

You can find my Mothematical Galleries on my Imaging Storm website. If you’re after the raw data, I’ve got the logs online going back to when I started lighting up again this year in late February. They’re here.

It was a slow build from just before the spring to the peak moth count and diversity where I was seeing almost 300 moths of 60 or so species in the scientific trap. At this point in the year there are many fewer moths arriving, just a few dozen this morning of 20 or so species. Still picking up an occasional NFM (new for me) and some NFY (new for year).

Among the recent highlights Oak Eggar, White-spotted Pinion, Red Underwing. But long gone are the days of several Hawk-moths to tally each morning and a range of beauties such as the Peppered Moth, Swallow-tailed Moth, Old Lady, Buff-tip, Buff Arches, and Buff-footman.

I’ve not seen any “Tigers” other than the Ruby Tiger, and even the grey and beige brigade numbers have fallen off significantly, just one or two Dark Arches from a high of more than 60 of that species one morning. It’s to be expected, although there are still migrants around and the autumnal moths are yet to arrive (Rosy Rustic aside).

There is always a chance of a Merveille du Jour, which never arrived last year, but there are other oak eaters that have come to the light during the summer, so who knows. Mervs usually fly in September and the December  Moth another one to look out for often comes in November. We’ll see.

Favourite moth of the year so far? Hard to pin it down. Eyed Hawk-moth, Lime Hawk-moth, Privet Hawk-moth, Oak Eggar, Swallow-tailed, Buff Arches, Buff-tip, all beautiful, Peppered Moth is astonishing especially its industrial evolution, but I think the one that gave me the biggest surprise seeing it just perched roosting on the outside of the trap on the morning of the 15th May this year was the enormous Puss Moth with its beautiful markings.

Some of the micros deserve a mention too though like the Brassy Long-horn Moths I saw on the Field Scabious along the Cottenham Lode, the Common Yellow Conch, Small China-mark, Small Magpie, Mother of Pearl, Orange Pine Twist, and the Orange Spotted Shoot. And, of course, there was also the Red Underwing