New customers for the year keep arriving at the Hotel Moth, though all of them so far are familiar from seasons past. That does not qualify my welcome for them at all; every time I see the cigar-butt shape of the Buff Tip, for example, I rejoice.
Ditto with the hawk moths whose size and splendour beguiles me even after all these years - one of many reasons why I am not, nor ever will be, a properly scientific recorder who lists dates and numbers of every arrival, however drab. I do like nothing odd behaviour, however. The Eyed Hawk on the left above, with a Large Elephant Hawk all dressed up in what my younger son's partner tells me is 'Millennial Pink', was unusually unwilling to show the warning 'eyes' on its hindwings. I gave it quite a shaking, but the best it would offer was the little wink below.
Apart from the usually nervy and very fast-flying Pine Hawk, this family is usually slow to wake up and consequently willing to pose on a friendly hand. This makes them ideal for interesting visitors, especially children, in the subject and hopefully creating moth-minded citizens of the future.
From the large to very small, though like all UK micro-moths, this bright little chap below is burdened with an outsize Linnaean name. Only a handful of our micros are honoured with a vernacular title, such as the Garden Pebble or Apple Tree Tortrix. This one has to get by as Pseudargyratoza conwagana. Assuming that you are familiar with eggboxes, you can see its Lilliputian size.
Then a Pale Tussock with its lovely hairy breeches on the front legs. And lastly a Clouded Silver obligingly perching on our shed door's window pane so that I could photograph it from above and beneath. These moths are extremely delicate and flimsy but, like the paper used in Prayer Books and Bibles in times past, their fabric is actually very sturdy and the topwing patterns do not go through.
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