Red Shorts

The moths are a little disappointing in colour terms at the moment; browns and greys predominate, although a fellow-enthusiast not far away in Buckinghamshire had an exciting call from an immigrant Silver-striped Hawk moth. I wish! Although after last Autumn's visit from a Clifden Nonpareil, I am not complaining. My granddaughter, however, is naturally keen to see brightly-coloured moths, so thank goodness for this Ruby Tiger. Actually, thank goodness for six of them; they are among the commonest residents in the eggboxes at the moment.

We had to be patient to get the glimpse above of the moth's red knee-breeches - 'shorts' in my granddaughter's vocabulary which has yet to pick up on 18th century fashion terms. Ditto the peek at his or her lustrous body stocking. Here is the moth in a more usual pose, below, alongside that delicate micro-moth, a male Ringed China-mark:

We had seen another example of this earlier in our examination of the trap, perched on the black bowl of the wall which plays havoc with my photography. I had no idea what it was at the time, given the unusually sneaky camera angle, but actually you can see the wing pattern clearly on a close look at the picture.

By coincidence, I got a similar offbeat picture of a Mother of Pearl, one of the UK's largest micros - much bigger than many macro moths including all the Carpets and Pugs - whose perlescent sheen fascinates the granddaughter. And me, for that matter.  Here it is:

The looping of the ends of the antennae, in both moths but especially the Mother of Pearl, is fascinating. I will check the literature and online to see if any entomologists have discussed its purpose, if any. Meanwhile here are some Carpet moths, beautifully delicate creatures whose colours and patterns reminded their 18th century namers of the Oriental carpets then arriving in European ports in large numbers for the first time. From top left clockwise, we have two Common Carpets, a Garden Carpet and a third Common Carpet. The lovely russet one on its own is a Red Twin-spot carpet and we conclude with a bright little Yellow Shell whose vivid colouring cheered the granddaughter up.

Next comes a composite of four specimens of the same moth which initially had me foxed and planning to rely on Edward in Comments. But then a little voice from somewhere murmured 'Straw Underwing' and I am sure that that is what these are. A regular visitor in late July and August whose existence I contrive to forget every year. My only excuse is that it does conform to the derogatory 'small brown jobs' so often misapplied to moths in general. And note how the moths all vary slightly from one another. Update: and indeed, note Edward's point in Comments, that they may include Flounced Rustics - curses be upon them! - which may also include the moth shown further down above the Silver Y. I will check soon but am currently overwhelmed with grandchildren.

Talking of underwings, the season has also arrived of nervous Copper Underwings (and/or the extremely similar Svensson's Copper Underwing) which scurry about in the eggboxes, trying to avoid the light as I turn each carton over for a look. The one in the top two pictures below finally scampered on to the grass after trying to hide beside a Large Yellow Underwing in a box cone. Sharing the composite are a tablet-like Dingy Skipper with a thistlehead and a very dark Common, or Lesser Common, Rustic.

Then we have another Straw Underwing in grandaughterly care (Update: or is it a Flounced Rustic? I fear so) a Silver Y (one of many around at the moment) and a Dun-bar nicely camouflaged against an eggbox. I've often celebrated the fact that the boxes come in so many gentle colours; almost one for each basic shade of moth.

Some micros to finish with, with what I think from the Micro Bible is a Eucosma campoliliana above two Endotricha flammealis. The latter introduced me via iRecord (left) to the fact that micro-moths are gradually getting good English alternatives to their cumbersome Linnaean names. I know that the latter are essential for international scientific co-operation - and we have often enjoyed puzzling out their meaning here in the past. But how nice that the Eucosma is now also known as the Marbled Bell and the Endotricha as the Rosy, or sometimes Rose-flounced, Tabby. I don't know who is promoting this trend and I would be glad to find out, so that I can thank them.