Category: Lepidoptera

A quick blog post as I approached my fifth anniversary of garden mothing. That’s six summers of lighting up! You’ll recall how it started.

I have recorded 487 different species of moth in my garden as of 24th October 2023. I have photographs of most of those species, with the exception of the marvellous Hornet Clearwing moth which I saw (drawn to a pheromone lure) but didn’t net. I have also seen and recorded 44 other species on campsites, nature reserves and in holiday house gardens (New Forest, Dorset, Anglesey, and at Chippenham Fen and Les King Wood).

My first season began late, 24th July 2018 and I didn’t keep full logs, but saw roughly 127 species of moth, most of which I’d never even noticed nor photographed before.

In 2019 I ran 272 sessions with a 40W Robinson trap and recorded 12373 moths of 315 species 125 of those were new to me. That represents 45 s/s avg, specimens trapped (and released) per session on average.

In 2020, COVID-19 lockdown year, I ran 294 sessions and had 8529 moths of 309 species, 30 of those species were new to me, and that’s a per session average of 30 s/s avg. Way down on 2019.

2021 – 288 sessions, 7608 moths of 278 species – 38 NFM – 38 s/s avg

In 2022 – 244 sessions, 7900 moths of 321 species – 64 NFM – 32 s/s avg last NFM of the year was the much hoped for December Moth, which arrived at the end of October.

UPDATE 24th October 2023

197 sessions, counted 8086 moths of 334 species so far – 44 NFG as of 24th Oct – 45 s/s avg. I switched to a Skinner trap with a 20W Wemlite from my old 40W Robinson trap, in early June 2023.

If I just select out the peak season 1st of May to 30 September, things are slightly different in terms of per-session averages

2023 – 7551 specimens over 116 sessions – 65 s/s – 330 species

2022 – 7253 specimens over 130 sessions – 56 s/s – 321 species

2021 – 7194 specimens over 141 sessions – 51 s/s – 278 species

2020 – 8002 specimens over 137 sessions – 58 s/s – 309 species

2019 – 10966 over 128 sessions – 86 s/s – 315 species

Obviously, 2019 was an interesting year, my first full season and I seemed to get large numbers of moths and quite good diversity appearing in the trap during almost every lighting-up session. Things were not so good the next summer, with a drop from almost 90 per session to just under 60, but we’d had a warm and early spring with cold snaps at night. 2021 was not like 2020 in terms of how the seasons panned out and I saw another drop in per session average to just over 50. 2022 was half way back up between the 2020 and 2021 averages. 2023 has been quite bizarre, numbers seemed to be way down early in the season, but diversity and numbers picked up. I was also more aware of various micro moths and so my new-for-garden (NFG) was 44, with a few new macros, like Leopard Moth, but not the NFG numbers of my earlier years, obviously.

I expect to see similar total numbers and diversity next year, but perhaps with fewer NFGs, but who knows, it’s rather unpredictable.

UPDATE: They’re still at it, night of 23 Jul, three Holly Blue, two  Red Admiral, and a Gatekeeper roosting in the ivy.

A few days ago, I noticed a Holly Blue on a plant stem on the lawn at dusk. Actually, there have been hundreds of this species in the garden this year. But, this one was settled, it was at roost, in its nocturnal torpor state.

Asleep, in other words.

I put a metal basket over the top of it so that nobody would tread on it if they were mothing around the garden (me) or counting frogs (son). Once it got properly dark, I took a short stroll around the garden (the only thing possible with a short garden) and shone a torch up at the overhanging ivy, ostensibly I was looking for moths, but there was another Holly Blue roosting under an ivy leaf. Down below roosting on some apple mint, a Green-veined White.

Inspired, I plodded around the rest of the garden peering under bushes and around the potting shed expectantly and was rewards with a Small Tortoiseshell, a Red Admiral, and a European Peacock, all asleep in different spots in the garden.

It was an odd revelation, I’ve been mothing for six summers now and have seen lots of moths flying around the garden, nectaring on the wildflowers and the (un)cultivated flowers, and of course, a lot drawn to the UV light…but I’d never noticed roosting butterflies before.

Has something changed or is it just my level of observation? Last year was particularly hot and dry, it’s likely that lots of gardens, hedgerows, and bushes and wild plants out in the nearby countryside died. Of course, there’s also the issue of the two new housing estates being built not half a mile from us on old farmland. That could have removed their usual nocturnal roosting spots forcing the ones that survived the upheaval to spend the night in our garden.

I usually do a couple of Big Butterfly Counts for the UK’s conservation agency, along with millions of other people, hashtag #CitizenScience. When it was sunny earlier in the week, I counted 30 Holly Blues during the 15-minute recording period as well as loads of Large and Small Whites. The Comma, Marbled Brown, Gatekeeper, Red Admiral, Small Tortoiseshell, and European Peacock, all stayed away until just after the time was up! I’ve not seen a Marbled White in the garden this year, yet, nor Common Blue, they less commonly seen around here, but they the former has been on the outskirts of the village in numbers. There are dozens of Red Admirals around at the moment.

Anyway, I will survey the garden again and see what other strange bedfellows are sleeping among the campion and toadflax.

I asked the question on one of the mothing groups and one respondent suggested that butterflies roosting in one’s garden is perfectly normal. I’m sure it is, just not seen it before in our small garden.

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?