Distraction Nonpareil

What a fascinating evening I had yesterday! There is a discussion going on over at the Upper Thames Moths blog about the first Clifden Nonpareil to be recorded in the UK - in the 1740s at Cliveden whence comes its name - and whether the specimen still exists. In the course of this, I found myself reading a curious note in The Moths and Butterflies of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol 10 (yes, it's a monster work) published in 1983 and written by John Heath and A Maitland Emmet.

This says that the species is 'strongly attracted to sugar' - the mothing term for painting a mixture of rum and treacle on to tree trunks - and adds: 'By day it rests on oak trunks where it is well-concealed; on one occasion, a collector, while applying his sugar at sunset, painted one by mistake.'

Goodness!  Well, inspired by this, I overcame my usual aversion to rum-and-treacling which I have seldom found effective, and mixed up a tasty and very powerfully-smelling mixture which I dabbed on to our oak. I then sallied forth at various times after dark to inspect the scene, which remained disappointingly free of moths of any kind.

My last foray was at 10pm when it had started to rain lightly. As I wandered towards the tree, I passed near the moth trap whose lamp at that moment gave two pronounced flickers. I first suspected interference from the rain; I had planned to turn the trap off anyway after my final treacle inspection, because of a very damp forecast. But then it suddenly occurred to me that it might have been caused by a large moth fluttering by the lamp.  And it was!

To my delight and in spite of the difficulties posed by looking at the trap when the light is on, I saw a Clifden Nonpareil crawling over the eggboxes. Very interestingly for me, because I have often speculated whether moths are distracted rather than attracted by light, it clearly wasn't comfortable. Indeed it was looking for the way out.

And it found it.  Clicking away with the iPhone, again with some difficulty because of the MV lamp, I recorded its successful escape through the narrow entrance of the bulb's funnel-holder which works on the principle of a lobster pot. I thought that was it. But flicking on the 'phone's torch, I saw the moth resting on the grass, its magnificent wings outstretched, apparently in a dazed state.

It was easy to scoop it up carefully in my hands but less so to find somewhere to take a 'static' photo. Eventually I discovered our change box for the local Farmer's Market stall which is why my picture shows the Nonpareil on a pile of money.

Trying to release it was another story. I took some more pictures under our porchlight and thought the lovely visitor had flown off. But back in the kitchen, I found it on my jumper sleeve. The kitchen lights are very bright and it took off and made two very lazy, circular flights before settling on top of a high storage cupboard. I retrieved it again, via a wonky clamber on a chair and the sideboard, and decided to give it a treat by releasing it on my treacled tree.  

This time, after a short stay, it fluttered away again, not in the swooping style of its similarly-sized relatives, the hawk moths, but with more of the grace of a large butterfly, though I had the strong impression that it was still in a bit of a daze.

An exciting episode. And more evidence in my mind to suggest that bright lights distract and upset moths' navigation, rather than having any sort of lure for them, like the pheromone scents which attract males from long distances to a female.  If I am right, the very old adage of 'moths to a flame' is not nullified but needs to be read more subtly. Like the lamp, beauty or sex appeal really can turn its observer's head (or in moths' case, antennae) upside down.