Swallow, swallow, little swallow

There are lots of young birds around at the moment including these fledgling swallows, beautifully caught on camera by our neighbours who stealthily crept up on them from indoors. They were the second brood and their parents have now, unusually, produced a third from their nest in the porch to which the birds return from Africa every year. The young also always use this windowsill as a halfway point in their initial attempts at flight, which must be a terrifying experience.

It is therefore a bad time to be a moth. But also an encouraging one for moth devotees because there would not be so many swallows and other birds around without a healthy diet of insects to sustain them. The swallows' joyful swooping looks as though the birds are simply relishing the joy of flight but they are actually Hoovering up smaller flying prey. From this, as some sagacious Belgian friends of ours reminded me on a walk yesterday, comes the tradition that swallows flying high means warm weather (when insects will also climb) while low portends rain. Our neighbours have also noticed how at fledging time, the adults zoom close to the nest, effectively saying: 'Look at us kids! You can do this too."

Our windows continue to stun too many inexperienced birds which haven't quite got the hang of things, and sometimes, sadly, kill them. The second two pictures show two recent survivors which wouldn't have let me creep up so closely if they hadn't been dazed.

Meanwhile our strategy of sowing nasturtiums all round our vegetables to divert very hungry caterpillars seems to be working. Mind you, there are plenty on our cauliflowers,sprouts and broccoli too.

And to end with, a moth, just to keep me on the right side of the Trade Descriptions Act. It's a Gold Swift which became so absorbed in the laces of my trainers that it was still there half-an-hour later, even though I had been stomping around gardening.

The Dragon and the Old Ladies

Given the title to this post, I ought to start off 'Once upon a time...' but I've led off with this dragonfly instead because it's such an extraordinary-looking creature. It zoomed off when I first tried to photograph it on top of a bamboo cane in our veg patch yesterday. But I've noticed that dragonflies (a) like perching on top of sticks and (b) often return to the same one, and so I waited and (b) duly happened. Now to ID it at leisure and update later. Update: kindly and knowledgable Ray has saved me the trouble - see Comments. It's a Common Darter - wonderful that such amazing insects are common in the UK.

Old Lady number one

Meanwhile, once upon a time (c.1963) my cousin and I were staying at my uncle's rectory in Suffolk when we dashed indoors after inspecting our rum-and-treacle lures for moths, shouting: "We've caught an Old Lady." Since two elderly women from my uncle's previous parish were staying as well, this caused brief consternation. But our Old Ladies were of the mothy sort, Mormo maura, which coincidentally I was discussing with Ben Sale on his expert blog yesterday, because he had just found one in his trap in Essex.

Old Lady number 2

I lamented that I hadn't had any here, and indeed had only ever seen one other since the Suffolk drama, mysteriously dead on the roof of our car outside our home in Leeds. Lo and behold! The coincidences which have so regularly marked moth events since we moved to Oxfordshire in April struck again.

There were two Old Ladies in the trap this morning - pictured above - great big moths in the sort of dignified but dowdy livery which accounts for their name, given in 18th century days when old ladies emphatically didn't wear purple. I shouldn't have been surprised maybe because my Moth Bible says that Old Ladies 'can be found roosting in outbuildings' and in my constant search for new trapping sites, I had hoisted my lamp on to the roof of our dilapidated shed - see above.

Poplar number one, flashing its petticoat

Poplar number two. Sorry pics are a bit dark but it's overcast this morning

The sisterly pair had three large grey companions in the eggboxes: two Poplar Hawks and a magnificent Red Underwing which is still somewhere in our greenhouse, to which I retreated this morning because of steady rain. If I can find it later on, I will try to get some pictures showing more of its racy petticoat than the glimpse in the close-up below. Update: and I have. See bottom of post. The sun roused the moth from its hiding place and I got the picture before popping it in a box and letting it go outside. If Old Lady moths can tut tut, I'm sure they will have done so, if they got a glimpse of this underwear when the Red underwing flew in.

Here's the afternoon picture below, with a bit more scarlet showing. Nice eh?

The future is orange

I was wistfully discussing the first signs of autumn the other day in Comments with my invaluable expert Ben Sale, and he raised the consolation of the imminent coming of the Sallow moths which fly in the UK from late August.

Bingo! here is my first of the year, a Centre-barred Sallow making its debut in a blaze of orange, as sulphurous as the Canary-shouldered Thorn which featured here two days ago.

This is a notably retiring moth in youth, when its caterpillars start life hidden in the unfurled leaf buds of ash trees, moving to a crevice at the base of the trunk as toddlers and - in the words of my Moth Bible -'climbing very quickly just before dusk to feed during the night'. They then tuck themselves away in an underground cocoon before leading an equally clandestine life as an adult insect, seldom visiting flowers or moth enthusiasts' rum-and-treacle 'sugaring' and only really attracted (or maybe disorientated) by a moth trap light such as mine.

This one was co-operative in a photo session, however, before powering off into the branches of a plum tree (hence the wing blur in the second picture, for which many apologies; the moth took off seconds later). I also append a small pic of a Spectacle Moth which was sleeping on the light cable at the top of the trap, because I can't resist them.

Grey twins

My umming and erring about whether we have a second brood of Poplar Hawkmoths has been resolved. The solitary one which came last week could just conceivably have been a Rip van Winkle or a super-shy moth which had led a very quiet life. But today the eggboxes were home to two of the big grey moths in immaculate condition; so the whole complex process of egg-laying, caterpillar and pupa development must have taken place since this year's first generation appeared in late May.

The second of them, shown in my first picture, was completely out-of-it, like a student on the morning after a good night out. It's unusual in my experience for a big moth like this one to be so thoroughly zonked. When I carefully examined the boxes, it gradually came to and finally staggered into position for the second picture.

The third moth is one of the bright orange male Gold Swifts I mentioned yesterday and the fourth is the more quietly-dressed female of the species. There were ten of these nestling alongside the Poplar Hawks, along with more than a score of Silver Ys and even more Flame Shoulders.

My final moth is a Lead Belle, I think, and one that has seen better days. Update: the last part of the preceding sentence is true but the moth is actually a Shaded Broad-bar, new to me though not uncommon - many thanks to Expert Dave in Comments. But if you click on the pic, you can admire its delicate antennae whose direction-finding abilities have probably helped it to lead a long life. Back on the first picture, of the comatose Poplar Hawk, the russet antennae are worth a close look too.

Rise and shine

I mentioned yesterday that bright colours are one of the characteristics used to mark out butterflies from moths, but warned that there are many exceptions to this rule. Here are a couple from the trap this morning.

The Canary-shouldered Thorn in the top two pictures is brighter than any Brimstone butterfly and the metallic glimmer of the Burnished Brass which follows has no equal in UK butterflies. You need to go to Central or South America to find butterflies which shine like that.

The Gothic is a favourite of mine for a different reason: the beauty and symmetry of the delicate pattern. (Update: actually it's a Feathered Gothic - see Comment from Dave to whom, once again, many thanks - but my approval applies for the same reasons). And my final moth, an everyday Common Carpet, repays a couple of clicks on the image - to enlarge it - and prolonged contemplation.

The difference between butterflies and moths

Here is a moth pretending to be a butterfly, which prompts me to ponder the difference between the two. It is a question often raised by visitors, especially children, and it is a good one because the two types of insect belong to the same order, Lepidoptera or scaled-wings, and even eminent scientific classifiers have had problems in deciding whether particular, debatable, species are butterflies or moths.

But there are handy rules for the amateur and if there are exceptions to all of them, that merely proves them. The simplest is that all butterflies fly by day and most moths at night. There are certainly fewer human observers around at night, of course, should a butterfly venture forth, but neither I nor anyone I know has ever had one come to the trap.

Plenty of moths fly by day, however, and many of them are gaily-coloured which makes a second common rule, that butterflies are brightly and moths dull, too dodgy to accept, so I have shaded it grey. Having said that, I think it is quite useful for beginners as a general rule of thumb and it relates to the next one: butterflies and moths operate their wings differently.

That brings in my picture, because almost all butterflies rest with their wings raised above their bodies like the moth in my photograph (hence the title of the post). Moths almost always fold their wings flat and back like a diver or jetplane as you can see at your leisure via most pictures on this blog's past posts. This is in part due to the frenulum which connects fore- and hindwings, which moths have and butterflies don't. It accounts for the high-speed, whirring, dippy-dodging flight of moths compared with the airy floating of butterflies (albeit a floating which can put on an impressive turn of speed, as birds and entomological photographers know).

Read this and think of butterflies

Last but most useful in diagnosis: almost all butterflies have simple antennae like the gearstick of a Morris Minor or a club, while moths' resemble every form of TV aerial known to man.  I shall leave it there, but please add any words of wisdom in Comments to help my explanations to novices (of whom we have more coming to tea today). Pupae for example: butterflies always develop in a hard-skinned chrysalis, never a cocoon, while many moths weave the latter.  But that and caterpillars (moths win hands-down for colour, bristles and general jaw-dropping variety) are unrelated to observations of the adult insects. On which note, here are a few of last night's moths:

The rakish Angle Shades, one of the most jetplaney of moths

An Orange Swift, casting doubt on nomenclature. This is a female; in a mothy
tweak on Adam and Eve, it's the male that gets the orange

I think that this is a Yellow-barred Brindle, though why it gets that name eludes
me; maybe because its green gradually fades to yellow

And here's another one, illustrating the differences within a species. The weird
thing top right is the leg of an eggbox's cartoon Happy Hen

Another exception to the rules: delicate Laura Ashley moths such as this
Common Wave often rest with their wings spread wide, a habit shared with
butterflies. But they never hold them up, like the moth in my first pic today

Quieter times

Ruby Tigers and Silver Ys were the main feature of the trap last night along with the ubiquitous Mother of Pearl. There were several score of the last two and 15 of the Tigers, along with smaller corps of Flame Shoulders, Flames, Common Rustics and the like.

The three moths shown here provided a little more variety, along with increasingly tatty Pebble and Iron Prominents, a Pine Beauty and a Coronet. The Yellow Shell at the top was peeping out at the edge of the trap's transparent shield, while the Tawny Speckled Pug (I think, unless it's the russet-blotched version of the Common Marbled Carpet) was in the eggboxes.

The final moth is a Red Twin-spot Carpet, a familiar arrival but one whose dainty pattern and colouring never palls. There is just a trace of autumn around as we head towards September; but autumn brings its own excitements in mothy terms.

The spider and the snail

I took note of the BBC forecast last night and let the moths and the trap lie. This was prudent as this morning we woke to the patter of rain and there had clearly been more overnight.

The women of the house have been on watch, however. First, my 94-year-old mother-in-law spotted this snail exploring high up on our dining room windows. Closer inspection revealed that it was being inspected - and maybe attacked - by a spider. Do these little creatures have ambitions about such vastly bigger prey? Apologies to passing arachnophobes.

Then, as we entertained cousins to tea, Penny spotted another explorer: this caterpillar on my collar. She caught it just as it made a bid to plunge inside my shirt and so here it is again, on her pearl-tipped finger's top.

I am closeted with my Caterpillar Bible. Update: the sagacious Dave in Comments suggests a sawfly and I'm pleased about that because the nearest I could find in the said Bible was a Pine Sawfly, though I didn't dare commit myself.

A modest bunch of beauties

A pretty moth with a pretty name graced the trap this morning, the Maiden's Blush. Unfortunately it lived up to that name by scooting off as soon as I upturned the eggbox under which it was hiding. So no picture, sorry. I hope it returns.

There was plenty of compensation in a very well-populated trap, though, completely different from the meagre turnout yesterday, after a warmer night. A different position may have helped as well; instead of lawn, the trap was surrounded by night-scented stock which we've triumphantly grown from seed.

The star of the show was the Red Underwing shown above and just below, a large and mighty moth famously spotted by Penny some years ago on a matching pub umbrella at Radcot Bridge on the Thames. We also had one in Leeds, not in the trap but in our greenhouse; it is a species known for being about by day as well as by night, although usually at rest rather than on the wing.

Underwings are notoriously reluctant to show their colours and I'm sorry not to have persuaded this one to flaunt more (I goaded it so much that eventually it flew off, high up into a walnut tree. A handsome Copper Underwing was even more reluctant to co-operate, though it provided me with the unusual image below, which I may enter for Kidlington Flower Show's art class under the title Copper Whirr.

Pre-whirr. This is about as revealing as a Copper Underwing will be