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I’ve had to hack my moth trap, or more specifically, I’ve had to hack my two moth traps.
The white, plastic vanes are broken on my original moth trap (the collapsible wooden one bought from an ex-mother and cabinet maker friend mentioned here years ago). The UV U-tube also failed in the night a week or so ago, So, having previously also acquired a spare moth trap from yet another friend in the village who is also an ex-mother, I have now hybridised the original box and funnel with the vanes and UV tube from the second trap. The U-tubes were 40 Watts, the linear bulb is just 20 Watts, so will be half the electricity cost on lighting-up sessions (although not as cheap to run as the 1 Watt LepiLED, good success with that on a couple of field trips).
As you can see, the Perspex shoulders of the box have clouded over a lot since I acquired the original trap and I ought to replace those. The point of having a transparent upper is so that plenty of light from the lamp gets into the box so that the moths don’t simply head for the exit hole once they’re in the box. As regular readers will know, the box is filled with egg trays to give the moths somewhere to roost overnight until they’re logged, photographed and safely released the next day.
There are at least seven mothers in our village, although only four of us are currently active, I believe. Three are definitely ex-mothers. I have the old traps of two of them and the third disposed of her trap for ethical reasons, although I think having people trap for scientific purposes is more ethical than not knowing anything about the local moths. We are a big village, very long, flanked by farmland and some trees. So, for the County Moth Recorder, it is useful to have records from across the patch and the area is big enough that individual trapping is very unlikely to disturb moth populations and biology in any significant way.
Anyway, it’s mid-October and last night was wet but brought in a fair number of moths, more than the previous session with the now-defunct 40W kit: Beaded Chestnut 3, Black Rustic 2, Box-tree Moth 1, Light Brown Apple Moth 4, Lesser Yellow Underwing 1, Large Yellow Underwing 3,
Red-line Quaker 2, Shuttle-shaped Dart 1, Strawberry Tortrix 2, Vine’s Rustic 1, White-point 1.
UPDATE: 29th October 2022 – Finally added December Moth to the list of Lepidoptera I’ve logged and photographed. This was my 463rd moth species, and 64th new species logged in 2022.
One might ostensibly refer to mid-October as the point in the year at which the mothing season is beginning to draw to a close. There are still plenty of autumnal moths to be seen, (various Sallows, Merveille du Jour, Red-line and Yellow-line Quakers, Bricks etc, and then winter moths (Winter Moth, November Moth, December Moth etc) around and a chance of rare migrants but from now on, a cold lighting-up night might give you a blank from here on until mid to late February…it can be a gloomy time for moth-ers, although perhaps not quite as gloomy as it is for the moth-ers we know as butterfliers.
Anyway, I’ve done sone totting up from my records. Just in case you’re interested in the details of this year’s mothing here in Cottenham and with a couple of off-site sessions. I have counted about 7500 moths of some 318 species in 200 lighting-up sessions so far this year. I’ve been mothing since July 2018 and have recorded 460 species in that time. 60 of those species were new to me this year alone.
In the previous three seasons, the new-for-me numbers were in the 30s. However, a mothing session in the New Forest, one in Dorset, and success with garden tobacco plants here, bumped up the NFMs, that and my being more diligent in logging micro moths. If I remember rightly, I did far fewer sessions in 2019, but had some nights with several hundred moths and my total that year was 12500 moths of almost 300 species.
TL:DR – The Bearded Reedling, Panurus biarmicus, was formerly known as the Bearded Tit. It is not a type of tit, although it has a passing resemblance to the Long-tailed Tit. It is the only species in the genus Panurus.
THE best photo I ever got of a Bearded Reedling (formerly known as the Bearded Tit) was from a hide WWT Welney. That was about a month after I’d bought the Sigma 150-600mm zoom for my old Canon 6D camera (March ’17). I’ve been chasing a better shot ever since.
Now there are record numbers of Beardies at RSPB Ouse Fen (I saw more than a couple of dozen of them last week at the Earith side right next to the car park). But, there are no hides so no real chance of getting as close as I was in a hide to that first one at Welney.
Incidentally, the name change from Tit to Reedling isn’t some kind of political correctness gone mad, it’s simply that although superficially, the shape of this species resembles the Long-tailed Tit, they are wholly unrelated to any of the Tit species. Indeed, they are the only known species in their genus! Personally, I think it should be the Moustached Reedling as those black facial markings on the male are more ‘tache than beard!
This was an interview for my Personal Reactions column on the old ChemWeb site from 1999 featuring Carolyn Bertozzi, who this week was announced as one of three recipients of the 2022 Nobel Prize in Chemistry.
Biography: Professor Carolyn Ruth Bertozzi, born 10th October 1966. Boston Massachusetts.
Position: Associate Professor of Chemistry, University of California at Berkeley
How did you get your current job?
The usual way. I applied for faculty positions in 1995 in response to advertisements in C&E News
What do you think clinched the deal?
Good fortune and a strong publication record from my graduate and postdoctoral labs
What do you enjoy about your work?
Everything. I love the variety, the interesting and brilliant people, the challenge of figuring out data and the thrill of new discoveries. Best of all is seeing how young people get turned on to research and develop into top-notch independent scientists. This must be the best job in the world.
What aspects would you change?
In the perfect world, there would be a more entrenched system to accommodate the demands of both work and family, and perhaps a better representation of women on the faculty. These are not out of the realm of possibility in my lifetime. Also, higher salaries to match the cost of living would help ease the burdens of everyday life
What was your first experiment? Ever?
I don’t remember it has been so long. My first research position was in the summer of 1986 and I performed experiments with lasers and cell membranes with the goal of understanding how photogenerated oxidants damage membranes
Did it work?
I don’t remember but I learned a lot and it was fun
Was your science teacher inspirational?
My high school biology teacher was a true inspiration. Then in college, I had several chemistry professors who inspired me to switch my major to that subject
What would the teenage you think of the present-day you?
Too serious
What is your greatest strength?
Versatility. I am reasonably competent at many things
Weakness?
Too quick to pass judgement. Perhaps also too limited attention span
What advice would you give a younger scientist?
Try to resist peer pressure and pursue those areas of science that you find truly fascinating
What would you rather be if not a scientist?
Nothing else compares but if forced out of science by factors beyond my control, I would pursue medicine or music
Which scientist from history would you like to meet?
Hermann Staudinger, the German Nobel prize-winning chemist who was far ahead of his time
What would you ask them?
How did you conceive of these reactions?
How has the Internet influenced what you do?
It has greatly facilitated our ability to understand genomic information, and to process literature in many areas of science. I am sure that the Internet has also provided information on my lab to others around the world, which helps us gain recognition, collaborations and new colleagues
In what ways can scientists improve their public image?
Participate in outreach programs so that young people can see the beauty and excitement of what we do
What might be the biggest achievements in science in the next century?
Complete sequencing of the human genome, structural elucidation of membrane proteins, real-time mapping of chemical transformations inside living animals. More globally, effective cures for cancer and microbial infections will affect millions of people.
What’s your favourite chemical reaction?
The Staudinger reaction between azides and phosphines
Which living scientist do you most admire?
My father William Bertozzi, a physicist at MIT. [Carolyn’ sister Andrea Bertozzi is a Professor of Math and Physics at Duke]
TL:DR – The Bearded Reedling, Panurus biarmicus, was formerly known as the Bearded Tit. It is not a type of tit, although it has a passing resemblance to the Long-tailed Tit. It is the only species in the genus Panurus.
Lots of Beardies, Bearded Reedlings, Panurus biarmicus, at the Earith side of RSPB Ouse Fen, the site represents a nicely growing colony of the species.
I counted at least a couple of dozen today. I’d first heard a lot of pew-pewing (or ping-pinging) in the reeds close to the car park. The sound is reminiscent of a low-power sci-fi B-movie laser gun or a twee little ringing bell. But, when there are lots firing off it once it’s quite wonderful, like a live-action video game in the reed beds.
Beardie is an affectionate nickname for the Bearded Reedling, formerly known as the Bearded Tit. It was misnamed on account of its passing resemblance in shape to the Long-tailed Tit, but the two species are not related. Indeed, the Bearded Reedling is doubly misnamed as those black markings on the male’s face might be, at a stretch, perceived as sideburns or moustaches, but definitely not a beard. But, while changing from tit to reedling is happening, it’s unlikely to lose its beard.
Meanwhile, taxonomically, the species (scientifically Panurus biarmicus) is the only one worldwide in the Panurus genus. A truly unique little bird living almost on our doorsteps…well…if your doorstep is lined with reeds, that is.
TL:DR – We finally caught up with White-tailed Eagles on a trip to Dorset in September 2022 after seeking them out in various places over the last couple of years.
We took another trip south in September. Stayed some way inland in the historic town of Corfe Castle but couldn’t keep away from the coast and visited RSPB Arne, RSPB Lodmoor, RSPB Radipole Pond, NT Studland, and took a boat trip in Poole Harbour up the Wareham Channel, and a train journey from Corfe to Swanage where we were plagued by Geography Fieldtrips measuring the groynes on the beach.
RSPB Arne is the English homeland of the Dartford Warbler and plenty of other wildlife, although we saw very little of it on our visit for some reason, apart from some “wild” pigs and distant waders. We also missed, by just a few minutes, a White-tailed Eagle fly-by and also failed to see an Osprey way over the moor towards Corfe itself. We didn’t see any Dartfords there either, that would wait until we got to the moors behind Knoll Beach at Studland.
While at Arne, missing the Osprey and WTE, we spoke to various people one of whom recommended a visit to Lodmoor and Radipole Pond (spotted a Clouded Yellow butterfly there) and those sites were generally much busier in terms of birdlife, Great White Egret, Grey Heron, Oystercatcher (dozens), Avocet (hundreds), Curlew, Black-tailed Godwit, Great Crested Grebe etc.
We were lucky enough to see dozens and dozens of House Martins and Swallows when we climbed East Hill in Corfe. Seemingly, Monday the 19th September was a good day for seeing hundreds of departing migrants. Also towards the top of the hill, a couple of Clouded Yellow butterfly.
The 2.5 hour boat-trip with the charity Birds of Poole Harbour was much more of a success than the trip to Arne. We had sightings of Shag and Sandwich Tern within minutes of setting sail and a large flock of Phalacrocorax carbo sinensis, the Chinese Cormorant sub-species, which is much more gregarious than its relative the Common Cormorant.
One of our incredibly well-informed guides (Paul) spotted an Osprey perched in a dead tree on the non-public edge of RSPB Arne, then the other equally well-informed guide (Liv) spotted a White-tailed Eagle (turned out to be the juvenile female with the radiotag ID G801). She was perched high in a pine tree a little further up the channel. It was hard to get clear photos through the heat haze and at a distance of several hundred metres, but worth a try. When the eagle took to the air, I got a reasonable shot at it before a second (a juvenile male) was sighted.
These eagles and the ospreys are both part of reintroduction programmes on the south coast to bring back raptors to this area that were persecuted to local extinction. Unfortunately, there are rich landowners with a vested interested in breeding and killing millions of game birds (pheasants, grouse etc) for a very lucrative sport. They claim the birds of prey are a threat to their industry. The birds are no threat to this vast industry given the huge numbers of game birds involved. The raptors may eat dead game birds, but the industry dumps most of the birds that are shot for sport. Farmers often protest that eagles could take valuable lambs and counter the awarding of reintroduction licenses, they know full well that this is an incredibly rare happening and it’s just an excuse to protect their game birding, which makes them thousands of pounds per person. Eagles will find plenty of carrion and smaller wild birds to eat without needing to tackle lambs.
Interestingly, the eagles, which we used to think needed high mountain and moor, seem quite happy to live in this coastal zone. So, ultimately, translocation schemes will hopefully be successful. We’re still hoping that the Wild Ken Hill licence will be allowed in North Norfolk.
Meanwhile, back on the boat, we continued to add many more species of bird to the boat trip list (which ultimately amounted to 48 bird species) before heading back to the harbour and the lagoon on Brownsea Island where 60+ Spoonbills were feeding.
The Spoonbill is another growing success in England where once the bird was eaten to extinction in the 17th Century. There is a breeding colony in North Norfolk, but dozens are now seen in Dorset and Somerset. The flock we saw on Brownsea is mostly comprised of visitors from The Netherlands. Also had a flyover of Dunlin and sighting of at least one Curlew Sandpiper, Redshank, Greenshank and more. We have seen Spoonbill at various times over the years, but usually only one or two together and perhaps three; there were two at Lodmoor even.
We “twitched” the juvenile Red-backed Shrike and first-winter Citrine Wagtail mentioned in BirdGuides that and previous days. The Citrine made an appearance close to where birders told us it would be. There was some initial doubt that it might have been an Eastern Wagtail, but an expert who heard it call, pinned it down to Citrine.
The juvenile Red-backed Shrike took a lot more hunting down as it was on what local birders know as the old dump, not the Lodmoor reserve itself. BirdGuides was pretty close with its grid reference from earlier in the day. There are usually only a couple of breeding pairs of RBS in the UK each year, and it is essentially extinct here. However, a couple of hundred migrants do skirt the east and south coast of the UK on passage. They’re often known as butcher birds because they hang their prey on thorns or even barbed wire to eat later.
By the end of the holiday, we’d almost forgotten about trying to spot Dartford Warbler (we had seen them at Dunwich Heath on a Suffolk trip earlier in the year). However, after visiting Old Harry Rocks, we headed through Studland and up on to the heather and gorse encrusted dunes behind Knoll Beach and saw perhaps half a dozen, as well as numerous Wheatear and Stonechat.
For those who like lists, these are the 74 or so bird species we saw* and noted during our September 2022 week of birding and sightseeing in Dorset:
There were probably a few other species we saw but didn’t note bringing the total for the week to at least 60. Oh, we also saw quite a few Sika Deer and I did a bit of mothing in Corfe with the LepiLED and added L-album Wainscot and Ruddy Streak (Tachystola acroxantha) to my moth life list.
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.
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.
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.