TL:DR – I’ve been mothing since July 2018. In 2022, I recorded almost 50 new species in my garden. It was just 37 in 2021, and 30 in 2020.
As the year rolls by, the number of new moth species a novice moth-er with 3-4 years experience is likely to see on any given night declines with the arrival of autumn. All the moths I saw in my first season were pretty much new-for-me (NFM), about 127 species. In 2019, lighting up for a longer period, I recorded 125 NFM. 2020 wasn’t a great year not many moths at all after an unseasonably warm and sunny pre-Spring and I recorded just 30 NFM. Similarly, 37 NFM in 2021. However, despite odd weather again in 2022, I’ve recorded 49 NFM in the garden and a dozen with the LepiLED in the New Forest.
Among those NFM species was the fabulous and rather rare Convolvulus Hawk-moth. Several (perhaps 5) have turned up in our garden, perhaps drawn to the nectar of the tobacco plants we grew especially for them.
There are, of course, plenty of autumnal moths and maybe a clutch of those have not been ticked. Then, there are the recent additions to the British List, such as Clancy’s Rustic. Clancy’s Rustic Caradrina kadenii
(Freyer, [1836]) which was first reported by Sean Clancy in Kent in 2002.
One turned up in the garden last night, looking quite fresh. I thought I’d seen one before in 2020 but when I double-checked my records it turned out to have been the rather similar-looking Pale Mottled Willow, which is quite common in my garden. So, at last I can tick one of the rarest of the rare moths, Clancy’s Rustic as NFM.
There are so many “hairstreak” butterflies around the world, members of the Theclinae, with lots of tribes. Indeed, nobody knows for sure how many of these delightful little creatures adorn our world. In the UK, we have just five of them as native species, and they’re quite rare and tend to live and breed only in small pockets.
In 2021, I saw my first Green, Purple, and White-letter Hairstreaks with a little bit of guidance from some butterflyers I’ve mentioned before. In 2022, I made a concerted effort to try and find at least one of the two others that are not too far to drive from home – the Black Hairstreak. I may have glimpsed it in 2021, but I definitely saw and photographed it in a place called Monks Wood one of its rare habitats.
The fifth the Brown Hairstreak has a flying season August-September and we tried to spot it on our final day on the edge of the New Forest where there was plenty of fresh blackthorn (the larval foodplant) but with no luck. A possible trip to nearer Suffolk might have been productive, but it’s probably too late in the year for it now, so Brown HS is going to be a target there for me in 2023 instead.
In the meantime, you can catch up with some of the 50 butterflies and 460 moths I’ve photographed and videoed for Reels on the Sciencebase Instagram
UPDATE: A rather battered Connie turned up on the night of 8th September. That’s three nights we’ve seen the species in the garden, it’s possible there were two on the first occasion (27 August), but just one on 2nd September, and just one last night. Although there’s no way of knowing for sure, there may have been others on those nights and other nights, all may well have been attracted by the scent of the garden tobacco plants we grew specifically to attract this species. All were subsequently drawn to the UV lure.
Usually, one relies on Attenborough and his marvellous army of photographers and researchers to bring the dramatic natural world closer to home. At a push Spring Watch and its ilk can give you a slightly less educational fix with their low-level narrative and low-level cameras. But, nature impinges on even the most urbane of urban gardens at times.
Indeed, we see various butterflies in the garden on warm and sunny summer days – Comma, Painted Lady, Red Admiral, Peacock, Whites (Large and Small), Holly Blue, very occasionally Common Blue and Small Copper, even (once) Marbled White. Hummingbird Hawk-moths turn up during the day and with a little luring, Emperor Moth and various Clearwings. I’ve listed the birds elsewhere on Sciencebase.com, we’ve ticked 30 species in the garden or over it. At night, there are hedgehogs and the Common Frogs are active in and around the pond. Speaking of which various dragonflies and damselflies around the pond and their larvae in it. Also at night, Pipistrelle bats circulating, hunting for moths…oh…moths.
As regular readers will know, surely…I light up with an ultraviolet “lemp” to attract moths and record and photograph them. 459 species so far in four years of mothing. One of the most intriguing and, I feel, exciting visitors was the Convolvulus Hawk-moth. It nectared on Nicotiana (garden tobacco plants) planted specifically to give it something to eat should it turn up. As you know, it did and then again this evening. It’s a huge beast, three or four inches across, it makes a lot of noise whirring and whirling around the garden and clacking into walls and plant pots in between bouts of unfurling its enormous proboscis to feed.
A second, possibly third, one appeared to nectar and then was distracted by the lemp. I got some video of the Convolvulus Hawk-moth just before it dived into the trap. But, I couldn’t leave it there to fester overnight so I lifted the lid to let it out. It soured away into the night sky, like a whirring wraith in a pink and black stripey mohair rollneck. Who needs Sir David, when you’ve got plain David? Hah!
TL:DR – There was a sudden influx of more than 100 Common Buzzards (Buteo buteo) on farmland after the hay was cut and baled. This species is a type of hawk, not a vulture.
When you get wind of something unusual in the birding world, the temptation is often to head for the site as quickly as possible binoculars slung around your neck and camera in the rucksack on your back. It’s often not the best strategy, birds fly and even if you think you’re being quick off the mark, often the update you saw may be out of date within minutes or hours of it being posted.
Common Buzzard zoomed through the heathaze
So, when I heard there was a large number of Common Buzzard* (Buteo buteo) gathered in a field not 20 minutes’ drive from home, I didn’t jump into the car and slam the pedal to the metal. I waiting until the next update to see how things might be changing over the hours from the first sighting to the next.
The initial report had said there were some 56 Buzzards in a field where the farmer was moving hay bales. The rodent population would have been on the run and it was presumably this that drew the avian crowd, which was apparently joined by a Marsh Harrier, Kestrel, and several Grey Herons. There were several more Buzzards in the adjacent field, apparently. This is an unprecedented number of this species in Cambridgeshire, a county record. Usually, they seem quite solitary and might gather in thermal-circling groups of three or four.
Four of at least 100 Common Buzzards on local farmland
Most I’ve ever seen in one place was directly above our house when there were six riding ever upwards on the thermals. More than sixty in one place seemed bizarre…something you might see in some remote Eastern European valley or flying over Gibraltar Point, perhaps.
Anyway, I still didn’t dash. I was dithering. Worrying about the spiralling cost of diesel, for one thing, but also with the thought that by the time I get to this distant field, Sod’s law would dictate that they would have all departed. The next report came in and said there were perhaps eighty, the one after that told of at least 100 and maybe more in the trees and the fields beyond. So, with a rather pessimistic hat on and in no great rush, I made a coffee in a travel mug, grabbed my camera and binoculars, and headed for the fens.
I pulled up in a layby at the grid reference where all the reports said the Buzzards were to be seen. Pulling on the handbrake I glanced across the fields, they look bare but for grass slowly recovering after successive heatwaves. But for a Kestrel faffing with a vole and a couple of Black-headed Gulls, there seemed not to be much in what had temporarily been Buzzard country…
Not wanting to give in to the disappointment, I got out of the car and focused the binoculars into the middle distance, about 150 to 200 metres, I’d say. First one, then two, three, four Buzzards popped into existence, scattered randomly across the field. As my eyes shifted gear from fenland driving mode to birding mode, I scanned the field and started a more singular count…I got to 26. 26 Common Buzzards, more than I’d ever seen in one place before.
Not bad, a nice number. It was at this point that I trained the bins a little farther into the agricultural distance and realised the field behind and the one to the side had a lot more Buzzards than the nearest. I counted seventy for sure before a flock of them took to the air from the overhead wires, the trees and the hedgerows making a definitive total harder to count. It’s hard to know for sure, one report had indeed said there were 100+, I suspect I saw that many, maybe more this morning. On the other side of the road behind me the fields there had just two or three more Buzzards, another Kestrel, or perhaps the same one relocated, and a Red Kite overhead.
The Common Buzzard is, despite its name, is not particularly common, a few tens of thousands of breeding pairs in the UK. Much maligned and persecuted through ignorance like so many raptors (birds of prey) through the years, there was a time in recent history when you might live a country life and not see one. It’s a protected species now and no longer considered to be under any great threat from those that might have trapped and killed it in years past. The biggest threats today for the bird and pretty much every other species on earth is habitat loss, desertification, and climate change.
Anyway, I was glad a made the effort and used a splash of diesel to see this spectacle. I won’t reveal the location here for obvious reasons, but feel free to email me if you want to see them and wish the birds no harm. I cannot guarantee they’ll still be there by the time you read this, but you never know.
*American readers will be familiar with Buteo species but know them as hawks rather than buzzards. The term buzzard in American English is a colloquial term that oftens refers to the Turkey Vulture, Cathartes aura, which is related to the South American Condor rather than the vultures of Africa, or to the Black Vulture, Coragyps atratus.
Having written about one of the bigger moths we see in the UK, Connie, the migrant Convolvulus Hawk-moth, it only seems fair to give a mention to a micro, as opposed to macro moth. So, here’s the Garden Rose Tortrix.
Garden Rose Tortrix
Now, the macro versus micro label may well have been historically about size. The larger moths being macro, the smaller moths being micro, as you might imagine, but there are so many enormous micro moths and so many tiny macro moths in the world that this really doesn’t hold. In fact, the division is one of evolutionary history, the micro moths being a much older grouping.
The micro grouping includes all of the butterflies, which are essentially just a family of micro moths. The only physiological difference between what British English thinks of as butterflies and moths is that the butterflies cannot unhook their forewings from their hindwings. That’s it. Asking what’s the difference between a butterfly and a moth is like asking what’s the difference between a ladybird and a beetle, or a dog and a mammal…
Anyway, back to today’s micro. This tiny two-toned moth is known as a Garden Rose Tortrix, Acleris variegana. It is one of about 11000 worldwide moths that are members of the tortrix family, the Tortricidae. They’re so-called because their larvae roll themselves up in a leaf to pupate and metamorphose into the winged, adult. The word tortrix has the same etymology as the word torque, the word for a twisting force – torquere, meaning to twist.
As regular Sciencebase readers will know by now, this once workaholic science writer is now a highly dedicated mother. As in I am an enthusiastic amateur Lepidopterist. A moth-er, like a bird-er, birder, someone keen to see, observe, understand, and perhaps photograph the subject. This year and last, I’ve also been a bit more focused on being a butterflyer too.
Toadflax Brocade larva with one of its foodplants, Purple Toadflax
Anyway, part of being a mother usually involves finding ways to see moths. Commonly that involves some kind of lure – a pheromone bung or an ultraviolet (or other) light. And, again, as you will know, I’ve got several lures for enticing moths for observation and the inevitable photoshoot. At the time of writing, I’ve lured and photographed about 450 moths of the 2600 species found in the UK.
Adult Toadflax Brocade moth
The standard approach to nocturnal mothing is to have a box above which a bright light or bright UV source is suspended, often above a funnel or vent. Moths are drawn to the lamp, like moths to a flame but without the fire risk. They might circulate a while and will often spiral or dive into the funnel opening or the vent and then find it rather difficult to navigate their way out again. A good mother will have pre-filled the trap with lots of empty cardboard egg trays. The trapped moths will settle down in the nooks and crannies of these trays for the night ready to be logged and photographed in the morning.
Moth-trap lamps do not only attract moths, beetles, flies, wasps, hornets, worms, snails, slugs, all kinds of creatures will be drawn. But, it also seems so will the larvae of moths, the caterpillars. A few mornings back, while logging the night’s moth haul (before release into undergrowth away from the garden) I found in one of the egg trays, a couple of caterpillars, larvae of the Toadflax Brocade moth. They must have wriggled all the way from the other side of the garden, about 12 metres where there is a patch of Purple Toadflax or perhaps 15 metres from the Common Toadflax (Butter-and-Eggs) patch to the patio whereupon the moth trap sits on lighting-up nights.
Toadflax Brocade in its cardboard cocoon
The two larvae were pupating and using tiny fragments of the cardboard egg tray to make their protective cocoon. One had made a good start and was almost completely enclosed ready for its metamorphosis, the other had a long way to go and so was still very exposed and so obviously a Toadflax Brocade larva. I’ve relocated the egg tray to an under-cover bench outside the garden shed where hopefully the two will finish their transformation and emerge at some point in 2023 as adult moths. I’ll keep you informed as to their progress if anything changes in the meantime.
TL:DR – The Convolvulus Hawk-moth is an infrequent visitor to British gardens, but they do occasionally turn up, having crossed the channel, and there is evidence of breeding here, but not over-wintering yet. Several were attracted to Nicotiana I grew especially for them.
UPDATE: 8 Sep 2024 Finally, annother Connie, no Nicotiana, just turned up, hung around the wisteria, flew off.
UPDATE: 1 Sep 2022 Another arrived in the garden tonight less than a week after the first, it nectared on the still blooming Nicotiana before diving into the actinic moth trap. I lifted the lid to let it out and it soured away into the night sky, like a whirring wraith in a pink and black stripey mohair rollneck.
The Convolvulus Hawk-moth, named for its larval food plant convolvulus (bindweed) and its hawk-like appearance, is a relatively rare visitor to the UK from mainland Europe.
Convolvulus Hawk-moth, Agrius convolvuli
The books usually say it migrates rarely and will be seen only in the South West of England if it does, but it has appeared elsewhere, often carried in on the same weather as other migrants, such as the Hummingbird Hawk-moth. There’s also the likelihood of the offspring of Spring migrants appearing as adults in the late summer.
The species’ wingspan can be 85 to 120 millimetres, as big as the British Privet Hawk-moth and with those pink and black stripes it’s almost like a close cousin.
The Convolvulus Hawk-moth likes to nectar on tobacco plants and ginger lilies among other flowers and I have been growing the former in our back garden since I started mothing in the hope of seeing a Convolvulus. After our trip to the New Forest with the LepiLED,* I reverted to my trusty 40W actinic trap next to the tobacco plants for the first evening lighting up back home. Within 20 minutes or so I could hear a whirring, humming insect near the plants and with a torch caught site of it with its huge compound eyes glowing like embers in the air. It did not stay long and flew off over neighbouring gardens. I mused on it being another migrant, perhaps a Striped Hawk-moth of which there had been many recent reports across East Anglia and the southern counties, but this moth was bigger, a lot bigger.
I could confirm the Convolvulus ID when it (presumably the same insect) made another appearance in the garden five minutes later. There have been several reports of Convolvulus in the county this year already, so this wasn’t the first.
The one in our garden, sucked a little nectar from the flowers of the garden tobacco plants before heading for the UV lamp and diving into the trap. I quickly took the trap indoors and got setup for a photoshoot. I snapped a few closeups of this beautiful moth before releasing it back to the night air.
As you can see from my photos it has some of the character of the Privet Hawk-moth, another member of the Sphingidae (what the Americans call Sphinx moths as opposed to Hawk-moths). Wingspan can be between 85 and 120mm, this one, I estimated was about 110mm across.
Convolvulus Hawk-moth, with 50mm battery for scale
Convolvulus often appears alongside other migrants. It has been a particularly good summer for the distant, much smaller cousin, the Hummingbird Hawk-moth, as I’ve mentioned here and on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. The Striped Hawk-moth has been reported widely, and I am still hoping that one will turn up here, it would be a grand end to our holiday period if it were to join the Convolvulus in making a late Summer appearance.
*The holiday mothing was limited to lighting up with the LepiLED and logging the Lepidoptera in the morning, most of our adventures were out and about in the local countryside and on the coast. The more general photos from our trip will appear in good time, but right now I am focused on the Convolvulus.
FINAL UPDATE: Back home, checked through the records. 12 species I’d not seen before, at least two of which are usually confined to the South coast and hinterland.
Lesser Swallow Prominent
The list of moths I’d not photographed before our New Forest 2022 trip is as follows: Black Arches, Chequered Fruit-tree Tortrix, Cydia amplana, Dusky Thorn, Hedge Rustic, Lesser Swallow Prominent, Lesser Treble Bar, Light Crimson Underwing, Plain Wave, Dark-barred Twin-spot Carpet, Rosy Footman, Six-striped Rustic.
Dusky Thorn
Records now dispatched to Hampshire County Moth Recorder, Mike Wall.
UPDATE: Seventh Night: A warm and dry night, 60 or so moths of 26 species, including one final new for me: Small Square-spot.
UPDATE: Sixth Night. Started off rather dry and balmy, I’d lit up before we left the holiday house for the pub and there was quite a lot of European Hornets hanging around when we got back well after dark. I also caught sight of a Rosy Footman (new for me), a Light Emerald, and a few veneers. But, it started raining heavily during the night.
Light Crimson Underwing, Catocala promissa
By Thursday morning there was quite a lot of water in the trap and the egg cartons were soaked, there were still 40 moths of 23 species, with two or three escapees that eluded identification. Once again a few clipped wings present suggesting that the local Robins had been dining at the trap after dawn too.
Rosy Footman
I managed to fish out the Rosy Footman and another new for me, Light Crimson Underwing (this completes the set of Catocala underwings I’ve photographed). There’s a short video clip of the LCUW on the Sciencebase Instagram, with Going to the Chapel as the background music for good reason given the scientific names of these large underwing moths.
Lesser Treble Bar, possibly just Treble Bar, but for the inner angulare marking, didn’t check male’s claspers
UPDATE: Fifth night. Cool, but not wet. About six moths of 23 species. Some new for the week, like Yellow Shell, Straw Underwing, Mother of Pearl, and Canary-shouldered Thorn. Also, new for me Dark-barred Twin-spot Carpet (very worn, most likely Dark-barred than Red though) and Hedge Rustic. Numerous clipped wings in the trap and bird droppings on the top from avian activity.
Hedge Rustic
UPDATE: Fourth night. Drizzly night, around 70 moths of 30 species. Probably overlooked a couple but also had my first Dusky Thorn and Lesser Swallow Prominent, numerous Small Bloo-vein, lots of Flounced Rustic and Agriphila tristella again, and at least a dozen Red-legged Shield Bug.
UPDATE: Third night numbers were down a lot, but there was still a Buff Footman, another Jersey Tiger, Oak Hook-tip, and a Plain Wave (NFM) and various others (mainly Agriphila tristella and Flounced Rustic). Added some video of the Jersey Tiger to my Instagram with a snippet of appropriate ABBA.
Plain Wave
UPDATE: Second night of lighting up, quite a lot more moths around 40-50, including Black Arches (3, NFM), Jersey Tiger (2), Light Emerald (6), Maiden’s Blush, also a European Hornet.
Two of three male Black Arches to the LepiLED, second night
First night off-site with the LepiLED and a portable Robinson-type moth trap was in North Poulner in the New Forest. We ate fairly late but there were Pipistrelle bats circling the trees in the garden overlooking the valley long before dusk felel.
Chequered Fruit-tree Tortrix
I lit up with the trap right under an oak tree, I had high hopes. Numbers weren’t huge, but there were a couple of species I had not seen before – Six-striped Rustic (Xestia sexstrigata, one of the many noctuid, or owlet moths) and Chequered Fruit-tree Tortrix (Pandemis corylana). The latter is also known as the Hazel Tortrix Moth, the Filbert Tortricid or the Barred Fruit-tree moth and sits within the Tortricidae family.
Six-striped Rustic
Full list for the first lit-up night was: Brimstone, Chequered Fruit-tree Tortrix (NFM), Chrysoteuchia culmella (6), Flame Shoulder, Lesser Broad-bordered Yellow Underwing (2), Light Emerald (3), Maiden’s Blush, Rosie Rustic, Six-striped Rustic (2, NFM).
Lin Brook valley from North Poulner
Just to note, when I got up in the middle of the night and took a breath of fresh air, as it were, there was a fox trotting slowly past the moth trap in the relative dark, I don’t think it even saw me standing there, certainly didn’t seem perturbed.
I didn’t have my usual macro kit and “studio” with me, so just basic record shots of the new moths taken with my phone camera or non-macro SLR lens. Note to self: take macro lens and tripod and LED staging kit and flashgun on next trip or regret it!
UPDATE: 2 Sep 2022 We (I) took the LepiLED with a portable trap to the New Forest in August and added 12 or so moths to the list, when we returned from our trip, first night lighting up we saw a Convolvulus Hawk-moth turn up to nectar on the Nicotiana (garden tobacco plants) before diving into the home garden moth trap. Another turned up later that evening and another on night of 1st September.
One of 2 or 3 seen in the garden this year for the first time – Convolvulus Hawk-moth
It was four years in July 2022 that I had been mothing in our back garden with a 40W actinic/UV trap. In that time I’ve photographed well over 400 species of macro and micro moth. I keep logs for the County Moth Recorder, so it’s not only a photographic venture it’s citizen science too.
The Blackneck at Devil’s Dyke, Cambs
By 2020/2021 I felt like I had probably seen most of the species of moth that are in this area, but there are always surprises that turn up and in those years there were 31 and 37 species that turned up that I hadn’t seen before. It’s the middle of August and so far in 2022, I have logged well over 300 species in the garden (and elsewhere as noted) this year, with 45 of them being species new to me.
Pine Beauty
Arches, Black (Lymantria monacha, Linnaeus, 1758) NF*
Beauty, Pine (Panolis flammea, Denis & Schiffermüller, 1775)
Bell, Crescent (Epinotia bilunana, Haworth, 1811)
Bell Pale Lettuce (Eucosma conterminana, or could be E. fulvana)
You can find photos of all these species in my Lepidoptera galleries over on my Imaging Storm website. Photos of 47 species of butterfly and 460 moths as of 1st September 2022.
I have put in a bit of effort to see more butterfly species over the last couple of years. Not travelling much farther than local nature reserves but homing in on ancient woodlands and sites where a few target species are known to thrive. So here are my lifers, six this year, six last year, several others in the year or two before that I’ve not listed.
Adonis Blue (Devil’s Dyke 2022)
Black Hairstreak (Monks Wood 2022)
Chalkhill Blue (Devil’s Dyke 2021)
Dark Green Fritillary (Devil’s Dyke 2021)
Green Hairstreak (Les King Wood 2021)
Grizzled Skipper (Woodwalton Marsh 2022)
Purple Emperor (Woodwalton Fen NNR 2021)
Purple Hairstreak (2021)
Small Blue (Trumpington Meadows 2022)
Wall (Seahouses 2022)
White Admiral (Brampton Wood 2022)
White-letter Hairstreak (Overhall Grove 2021)
I should perhaps add that I was first to log two new butterfly colonies – White-letter Hairstreak in Manor Farm Wood, Rampton and not far from there a colony of Purple Hairstreak on an ash tree close to the Cottenham Lode. I was also first to log a large number of Clouded Yellow (perhaps as many as two dozen) on a wildflower meadow along the Earith Bridleway just as you step off RSPB Ouse Fen close to the River Great Ouse.
My butterfly photo gallery is available on my Imaging Storm website where you can see my photos of all of the species mentioned above and more. Follow me on Instagram for more Lepidoptera as they emerge.
