Delicately done

 

A new moth in my garden is a rarity these days, after nearly ten years of running the light trap here. One such has just arrived however, the softly-coloured Delicate Moth which is an immigrant from the Continental mainland and sometimes beyond. Scientists believe that the paler the example, the warmer the climate where it spent its egg, caterpillar and chrysalis years, In which case, this one may be a native of the Mediterranean, perhaps even the north coast of Africa.

Immigrant moths are particularly likely to arrive at this time of year, adding a belated morsel of Summer excitement to early Autumn days during which P and I carry out such tasks as harvesting our spuds and bagging a good share for the Food Bank.

In this, they resemble our Morning Glories, grown annually from seed, which germinate quickly but then dawdle about and often seem reluctant to grow until, in mid-August, they suddenly discover the vigour of that highly successful wildflower, bindweed convolvulus. The ravishing flowers only live until early afternoon although P has noticed that in the current cold spell, they have become Early Afternoon Glories, delaying opening their buds until about 2pm and lasting until dusk.

Autumn is also a time for wasps. As well as hornets, docile and solitary creatures in spite of their fearsome appearance - and sting - we have had these sinister-looking types below. I do not yet know the ID of the first but the second, composite pictures show a Sabre Wasp. In both cases, thankfully, their spikes are for laying eggs - ovipositors - rather than stabbing foes.

The hedges are meanwhile full of blackberries and flocks of seagulls are tailing local farmers as they plough. We also played unintended host to a Willow Warbler or possibly Chiff Chaff whuch flew into our greenhouse and took ages to persuade to leave.

Finally, our granddaughter sent an email requesting an ID for this caterpillar she found which, thanks to the unusual nodule halfway down its back, I was able to supply. It will turn into a moth she knows well, the sulphurous little Brimstone which often brightens up the eggboxes in my trap.