Hoovering up

 

Things have been busier in recent weeks than they will have seemed from my inefficiency at updating this blog. Although Autumn is quieter in terms of numbers and has a predominance of darker and relatively small moths, there are also bright or interestingly-patterned visitors in the mix. I was glad for instance to have a Pine Carpet call - on the right in the top row above, after an Autumnal Rustic in its Confederate grey uniform and a Willow Beauty which was tucked into the rim of the black plastic bowl.

It was also good to have a Blair's Shoulder-knot, left in the middle row followed by a Garden Rose Tortrix micro and a Deep-brown Dart. In the bottom row we have a faded Carpet, perhaps another Pine one, a handsome Large Ranunculus and a Green-brindled Crescent, a lovely moth with striking patches of iridescent green wing scales.

My second composite has a Beaded Chestnut with a browny Lunar Underwing, a Common Marbled Carpet, a Centre-barred Sallow, a Burnished Brass, Silver Y, Angle Shades, Black Rustic, Snout and a second Lunar Underwing, this time dark and light grey. 

Meanwhile, on a morning in the park with our youngest grandchild we found that he and the Comma Butterfly have something in common - blackberries. Both were also entirely distracted by this wonderful, free contribution to the national diet so it was easy to get a good photo of the butterfly and to persuade the grandchild to have something healthy to eat.

I occasionally include pictures here of 'Moths Where They Shouldn't Be', a category invented by my granddaughter in herb entomological notebook which records moths on people's heads or perched on a slice of toast and the like. Here is an example from the Oxford Arboretum at Nuneham Courteney, always an interesting place to visit: an intrepid but unwise explorer of the noticeboard about the old field trip caravan belonging to General Pitt Rivers, he of the famed museum in the city. Alas, it got stuck and has remained there mummified since, like one of the museum's many curious items. 

Tussocks and Admirals

My granddaughter is continuing her relationship with the Pale Tussock moth after breeding a couple successfully last year. She came home from school last week with a couple of the species' striking caterpillars and then some of her friends found four more. To general relief, because she is tremendously concerned for caterpillar welfare, the catties all set about making cocoons almost as soon as she got them into a plastic storage box converted into a moth haven. Here is one which has almost finished, below.

Before their plans became obvious, my granddaughter had organised a big variety of broad-leaved tree leaves for them,  having carefully read the guides which recommend this in the absence of hops. She asked if we had any hops and by chance a kind friend had brought us a bunch that very day, ornamenting a jar of her delicious home-made quince jelly. But sadly, they were dried. Perhaps the catties glimpsed them and were further encouraged to pupate.

I meanwhile am continuing my relationship with the Red Admiral butterfly which is enjoying a tremendous late brood at the moment. The handsome creatures are everywhere, especially if there is flowering ivy in the vicinity. The one below actually invaded the moth trap and was snoozing in an eggbox the following morning. This is a rare occurrence for me but not unknown. My most unexpected and very destructive - guest has been an angry robin.

The coincidence of finding a narrowboat called Butterfly on the same morning was followed by a second nautical encounter. Not for nothing are these insects called admirals. I took my sculling boat Clementine out on the Thames and had just watched the first of two kingfishers when I saw a small but tremendous commotion on the water. It was a crash-landed Red Admiral which I managed to scoop up and dry out, first on Clemmie's hull and then on the cosy woollen shoulder of my sweater.

Here in conclusion are a few more trespassers in the moth trap - just a few of a host of ladybirds, along with yet another Box moth.

Oh and finally, finally, a couple of Merveille du Jours arrived last night and I couldn't resist photographing them on lichen, as per my observations yesterday.

Marvellous as ever

 

I will never tire of the Merveille du Jour which lifts the relatively quiet Autumn nights in the moth trap with its genuinely marvellous colours and patterning - so much resembling lichen on which I have seen it successfully hide.  My first this year came at the start of the week in a notably green trap which also included the very green Red-green Carpet and the Hawthorn Shieldbug shown in the composite picture above.

Closer inspection of one of my photos revealed another minuscule green arrival - the little aphid next to the RGC above. The following night, another Red-green Carpet joined the earlier one; the picture below shows the colour range within this single species.

It is not surprising that this moth should have inspired cards, paintings and even woollen ponchos as per the one from Virtual Yarns below. Its Linnaean name Griposia aprilina curiously refers to April rather than the moth's flying season from September into the early Winter, perhaps because its colours resemble the early shoots and buds of Spring.

It is a long-standing favourite of mine - the ploy used by Facebook to remind you of past posts 'on this day' obligingly came up this morning with the image below from 2019, a year in which we stood in great need of things to cheer us up.

Boxing clever

I am trying to discover whether the Box Moth, by far the most successful species in my trapping this year, eats anything other than the plant after which it is named. I have had SO many arrive in the last three months, and have seen such a startlingly large number at the grandchildren's and elsewhere, that I find it hard to believe that they can survive on Box alone. They are certainly causing devastation although to be absolutely honest, my grief at this has limits. If I had to choose between the small-leaved and rather ordinary plant which people cut into geometrical patterns in huge display gardens, and the handsome, even stylish, moth, I would plump without hesitation for the latter.

The Box Moth comes in two main forms, one velvety black like the Phantom of the Opera and the other with a shiny white centre to all four wings, more like the singer whom the Phantom pursues. In between there are variants on this basic theme. All have a delicious purple sheen. 

Here are some more of them in assorted settings. They are easy to disturb by day; indeed I suspect that prolonged study may eventually add them to the UK's list of day-flying moths, and my sense of their huge success and vast numbers is increased by the number of sightings and photos I've been sent by people who've found one during the daytime and wondered what it was.

This success is all the more remarkable because the moth, a native of south east Asia presumably introduced in imported plants or food, was first recorded here - in Kent - in 2007. Here are two more, along with the last Top Moth in the annual calendar, a Merveille du Jour, for which I have been keenly waiting. But that's tomorrow's story.

Orange blaze

Oh what a lovely moth the Frosted Orange is! And its annual appearance heralds the way for the various yellow and orange Sallows which are a feature of late Summer and early Autumn. I'm glad to say that its well-camouflaged sleeping place was not spotted by my inquisitive Robin - whose famous redbreast has something in common with the colours of the moth.

 

Good to have a Dark Spectacle in the trap too. They seldom visit although I get so many of the ordinary Spectacle that I may have overlooked its less common cousin. I like the fact that both species have a pair of rather Italianate 'moustaches' as well as their eponymous spectacles which are best seen from head-on as in the very first picture I published on this blog, back on 11 June 2008.  As you can see, below, I was quick to acknowledge the difficulties with ID which I knew I would face.

The third source of pleasure in the trap was a trio of Old Ladies - shabby-looking creatures even when in good condition but satisfyingly BIG. To be accurate, one of them was just outside the lid on the leaf of a nearby Romneya poppy. They all woke up surprisingly quickly for large moths and high-tailed off.

Lastly for today, a modest but nicely-coloured and patterned member of the brown and grey hordes: a Square-spot Rustic.  I think.  Update: Nope. Many thanks to Stewart in Comments who expertly spies the two small black dots which make this a Small Square-spot.  I wasn't so far adrift but...

Palely loitering

 

The Pale Eggar has been only an occasional visitor to the lamp here in Oxfordshire and never called when we lived in Leeds. My first was on 7 September 2015 and the second five years later on 28th August 2020. Now I have had a third on 31 August this year and a fourth, on the bulbholder below,  the night before last. It is classified as only locally common and indeed is infrequently recorded from the south of the county although a fellow-enthusiast on Thames Valley Moths, who has had only one in his garden this year, attracted 30 to a portable trap which he lit in nearby woodland. A creature of habitat, like so many moths.

The trap is continued to bring a reduced catch recently with faithful regulars for the time of the year, such as the Rosy Rustic and Common Wainscot - the darker form - in the next two pictures. It is also brightened by Burnished Brasses, both the forms juncta, with the central brown cross-bar undivided, and aurea where the two shiny sections are joined. Disagreement continues in the expert world about whether small DNA and genital differences warrant dividing them into two distinct species.

Brighter than these moths by some distance was the Blue Supermoon which I mentioned in my last post. I woke up at about 1am and managed to get the picture below, although it didn't look hugely different from the usual full moon, to be honest. But definitely a powerful counter-attraction to the usually dominant light trap.

Lastly for today's moths, I was struck by the fragile beauty of the Satin Wave below while having a very enjoyable time watching dragonflies hawking for prey in the sunshine. Conehead will correct me if necessary, but in the composite picture, I think I have the female and male of the Common Darter in the top row and a Migrant Hawker, including a close-up of its evilly-smiling, cartoon villain 'face'. 

Halting hummer

 

This is the first time in all my 73 years that I have seen a Hummingbird Hawk moth at rest, other than a couple of specimens which have come into the greenhouse, unknown to me, and expired.

The moth is one of the busiest of its kind, for ever hovering over clumps of lavender and other scented Summer plants, a daylight flyer and therefore often seen, usually to understandable wonderment. "Is that a humming bird?" I've been asked a dozen or more times. And indeed, although small enough, the moth is bigger than some of the smallest humming birds.

This one was nectaring in the standard, fascinating manner in the grandchildren's garden. Alerted by my wandering past, it nipped up into this large shrub and perched there, out of reach of a decently-focussed photograph but close enough for the above.  I was then distracted by the jewel-like flutterings of a group of amorous Common Blue butterflies including the obligingly posing male below. What lovely creations they are!

In the world of moths meanwhile, I am currently being visited by Snouts galore, large numbers of boring (to me, sorry, I just cannot get the hang of ID-ing them) brown and grey types like this Flounced Rustic, and also the much cheerier Orange Swift, below that.

Equally welcome, Light Emeralds have emerged in large numbers along with the sinister-looking Box moth, whose voracious caterpillars are genuinely sinister to owners of box hedges, including the National Trust which looks after miles of them. 

My star, though, is this Old Lady, below, a venerable-looking dame with a fine turn of speed once disturbed. I watched a large moth like this fluttering high above the trap last night, soon after I had turned it on, but the rival glories of the Blue Supermoon kept whatever it was safely up high and the catch this morning was standard for the time of the year.