Black and white

I have sometimes been a bit critical of the lack of bright colours in many (but by no means all) UK moths. But today, I would like to show some examples which illustrate the beauties of simple black-and-white. Admittedly, there is a little flash of welcome yellow in my first example, the familiar and common but nonetheless lovely White Ermine; but its delicacy and grace stem principally from the black and white combo which so resemble the fur from which the moth takes its name.

The same is true of the Small Magpie - a micro-moth - and the Clouded border which follow in this composite photo, plus the three which follow it; about four of each species have visited me over the last three nights. The last picture in the sequence shows a Small Magpie from below, as it obligingly perched on the trap's transparent, if now somewhat battered, cowl.

Then we have a Peppered Moth, below, the original salt-and-pepper version which lost ground heavily to the dark, melanic version which prospered in atmospheric pollution of the heyday of heavy industry in the UK. Now that things are cleaner, it is the melanic which is in decline.

And lastly in this little monochrome catalogue, observe the respective beauties of a Swallow Prominent and a Marbled Minor.

On a whim, I took a photo of the trap in action past night and here it is:

And finally, largely for my records but I hope of some interest, here are some of the other recent residents at the Moth Motel. Nothing unexpected but a decent variety and range:

Shuttle-shape Dart

Angle Shades

And another

Brown Rustic

And another

Buff Tip

A couple of Heart and Darts

Middle-barred Minor

Light Emerald

Burnished Brass

Figure of 80

And another

Light Brocade

Handful of Hawks

I know it's very unscientific and childlike but I cannot resist the lure of the hawkmoths which come in such numbers in Oxfordshire at this time of the year. Here is my traditional Hand o' Hawks: a Privet (the UK's third largest moth, on my thumb), three Poplars, two Elephants and an Eyed. The second picture shows another Eyed in its full, warning-camouflage magnificence, along with a Lime Hawk in combat fatigues.

The Elephant is one of my top favourites, going back to the days when my brother and I bred them from caterpillars which we found on willowherb which grew in swathes along the banks of Leeds ring road near my childhood home. We had been told that we would almost certainly find them there by John Armitage, the head of natural history at Leeds Museum, who was a kindly and knowledgable inspiration to many young people.  I have always admired his confidence that our caterpillar-hunting would be successful, given the disappointment which children can feel if their hopes are raised but then dashed.  Here are a couple more in the magnificent Millennial Pink:

Finally, just a dash of colour on my own, via my shoes with their excellent rainbow silicone 'laces', here is yet another Eyed Hawk with its Mohican haircut but its eyes largely under forewing wraps.

Ever more varied

New customers for the year keep arriving at the Hotel Moth, though all of them so far are familiar from seasons past. That does not qualify my welcome for them at all; every time I see the cigar-butt shape of the Buff Tip, for example, I rejoice.

Ditto with the hawk moths whose size and splendour beguiles me even after all these years - one of many reasons why I am not, nor ever will be, a properly scientific recorder who lists dates and numbers of every arrival, however drab.  I do like nothing odd behaviour, however. The Eyed Hawk on the left above, with a Large Elephant Hawk all dressed up in what my younger son's partner tells me is 'Millennial Pink', was unusually unwilling to show the warning 'eyes' on its hindwings.  I gave it quite a shaking, but the best it would offer was the little wink below.

Apart from the usually nervy and very fast-flying Pine Hawk, this family is usually slow to wake up and consequently willing to pose on a friendly hand. This makes them ideal for interesting visitors, especially children, in the subject and hopefully creating moth-minded citizens of the future.

From the large to very small, though like all UK micro-moths, this bright little chap below is burdened with an outsize Linnaean name. Only a handful of our micros are honoured with a vernacular title, such as the Garden Pebble or Apple Tree Tortrix. This one has to get by as Pseudargyratoza conwagana. Assuming that you are familiar with eggboxes, you can see its Lilliputian size.

Finally, here are some composite pictures of, first, three visiting Cinnabars, one of them cautiously outside the trap in neighbouring grass, which also housed a Spectacle and a Pebble Prominent.

Then a Pale Tussock with its lovely hairy breeches on the front legs. And lastly a Clouded Silver obligingly perching on our shed door's window pane so that I could photograph it from above and beneath. These moths are extremely delicate and flimsy but, like the paper used in Prayer Books and Bibles in times past, their fabric is actually very sturdy and the topwing patterns do not go through.

Multiple moths

Hooray! The warm weather has settled in and the moths are arriving in droves. Thursday night's star was the Marbled Minor which came some 50-strong - three of them above. And it wasn't just moths - flies were abundant too and, since I had forgotten to spray myself with Autan, two of them managed to nick a bit of my blood. I spotted the hornet - below - in time, thank goodness, and decanted it into some grass far away to continue its doze.

There was a host of Maybugs, or Cockchafers, as well and the first of the regular crop of Difficult Brownish Patterned Moths which always stretch my faltering ID powers. I think that the prominent one in the picture below is a Large Nutmeg, but I have to admit that this is a guess. Even after trapping for 14 years. Shame on me!

You can't mistake the chap below, though: the UK's third-largest moth, the Privet Hawk. His arrival was providential as Penny and I were due to spend the day with my 90-year-uncle and it was great to take him a couple of other visitors.  The Privet Hawk was one and a nice pink Elephant Hawk, the other. Both should now be settling in comfortably at Tewkesbury, the Privet Hawk appropriately in a nearby privet hedge. One of the many fascinating features of moths is their practice of laying their eggs on their caterpillars' food plant or plants. So if this is a pregnant female, all should be well.

Here's the Elephant Hawk, below, followed by a sequence of pics of that wonderful creature, the Longhorn moth. Midget of body but vast of antennae, the 13 UK species are hard to tell apart but my guess is that this one is Nematapogon metaxella. 

Watch out! There's a fly coming

Mmm, it's getting a bit close

It's tickling! That's enough

I'm off. Thank goodness for effective antennae.

Now for a Treble Bar, as opposed to the nightly flock of Treble Lines - second picture below - which are almost as numerous as the Marbled Minors at the moment:

And next that pretty creature, the Clouded Silver, followed by almost equally attractive Buff Ermine and a Light Brocade, a moth which is only locally common and that only in the South. The moth with it is another Treble Lines, in a slightly different colourway from its relative above.

And so to conclude for today with that small master of dazzle camouflage, the Scorched Wing, whose patterning blurs the eyes and often confounds my camera lens. The second picture shows its distinctive habit of arching its small body up in a way which must surely have some link with attracting the opposite sex - the necessary organs being at the tip of the tail. To the disinterested human eye, it looks more like an odd mushroom or - the camouflage effect in a different form - quite a convincing leaf.