Chicken moth - and friends

The Chicken Moths have arrived. Perhaps that is a bit rude of me, but I am constantly being reminded of poultry by the eggboxes in my trap and maybe you can see the resemblance in the moth below. It's not just the colour but that look of unjustified assurance which I associate with Henny Penny and other farmyard characters from my distant youth.

In fact the moth in my two first photos is a Canary-shouldered Thorn, perhaps the prettiest of a small tribe whose members also include the September Thorn below. I am fairly certain that I have got its identity right but highly enjoyable confusion reigns among the Thorns. The first to appear, often in July, is usually the September Thorn. Then along comes the August Thorn and the second generation of the Early Thorn. There is also a Purple Thorn, a Lunar Thorn, a Large Thorn and a Dusky Thorn. Their larvae tend to eat blackthorn, hawthorn and other thorns. Hence, I think, the name.

I was wondering if the next moth might be a Mottled Pug because of the delicate line of zig-zags at the base of its left hindwing; but they fly earlier in the year. An unsolved case, then. Update: Not any more. Peter Hall, one of the Inspector Morses on the Upper Thames Moths blog, IDs it as a Brown Scallop. I've had one here before but I'm hoping you will understand why I'd forgotten that. It isn't over-memorable. But the visitor after that is definitely a Lesser Broad-bordered Yellow Underwing, one of the nicest of that big and prolific tribe. I've always been fond of the greeny band round its head, shown in my second photograph.

Next, some sort of junior Maybug? Any beetlish experts around? And after him (or her) a rather shot-up July Highflyer, a beautifully patterned moth in the miniature way characteristic of Carpets and their like.

Talking of that fluttery group, here comes, I think, a rather faded Dark Marbled Carpet followed by one of the grey/brown Noctuid tribe whose separate IDs cause me endless woe.

Next a neat little micro which I think is Cochylis atricapitana and my favourite 'loveheart' micro, which once appeared on Penny's birthday to general rejoicing, Acleris forsskaleana.

And the tailend Charlie? Another pug. But which, I cannot tell you. Sorry.

The moths just keep coming

Now is the moths' high noon, or high night rather, and I could publish three or four posts every day, were it not for my concern about boring the world with too much on the subject. They just keep flying in. Here, for example, is a lovely Poplar Kitten, one of the 'cat' family of moths whose name derives from the small ear-like objects on the heads of their caterpillars when young, which make them resemble kittens and cats. What lovely colouring and delicate patterns this moth has!  Yum!

The one in my top two pictures came on Friday night; this morning I found the one below which is much smaller in the trap.

Next comes a pretty, small moth with an attractive name: the Small Rivulet, which I take to derive from the bubbling stream-like band of white across its chocolate-coloured wings. I have to add that it may be a standard Rivulet which is extremely similar but a bit bigger.  I will opt, however, for the Small version on the basis of Richard Lewington's brilliant paintings from the Moth Bible, left. As you can see from my red ticks, I am a bit of a trainspotter (like most amateur moth enthusiasts, I think). Both species have visited me.

I was glad to see this one looking docile among the eggboxes because one of its relatives led me a merry dance last week. It fluttered off as soon as I moved its eggbox and I thought that I had lost it. But I watched it as far as a gooseberry bush and spotted where it had hidden. I was rather proud of this achievement and luckily there were no gooseberry thorns positioned to prevent me getting the photo below. I can tell precisely whether it is a Rivulet or Small Rivulet, but the size and detail of the 'stream' again suggest the latter.

When I saw the next moth in the trap, I had that immediate: "Ooh, something different" feeling and I think that its dark band makes it form conversaria of the Mottled Beauty which I don't recall seeing before, either here or in Leeds. Update: this is age at work, however. Checking back,  I found that one arrived in July two years ago, duly baffled me and was then kindly identified by Peter Hall on the Upper Thames Moths blog. It was noticeably darker so this one may just be a browner version of the standard type. Further (dramatic) update: The same kindly expert has had a look at this one and reveals that it isn't a Mottled Beauty at all. Oh dearie me, I am slipping. It is a Phoenix.The Beauties are woodland moths, quite large but also dainty with slim bodies and a gracefully languid flight. The Phoenix ditto, if slightly less languid.

I apologised for my failure to get a picture the other day of a Yellwtail's yellow tail. I wasn't quick enough before it skittered away. Now I have one, below, not sticking up in the most photogenic position used by the moth, k but visible nonetheless beneath the demure folds of white wing. The second picture is of a female yellowtail. The male does not have the little trio of brown marks.

On we go, and here is a lovely moth which is related to - and considerably more beautiful than, the Silver Ys which recently infested the Euro 16 Cup Final.  Ironically, its name undersells it on exactly this score. Laughably, it is called a Plain Golden Y, to separate from the Beautiful Golden Y. The latter has a slightly more complex pattern but few other advantages to land my visitor, shown below, with the adjective 'plain'.

The Common and Lesser Common Rustics, indistinguishable without genital examination which isn't my thing, have often come in for stick here. In contrast to this fussy anatomical difference, they show wild abandon when it comes to background colour on their wings.  The Moth Bible shows six different forms for the Common Rustic alone and accurately calls the moth 'extremely variable'.  Here are some examples from the trap below:

Snuggling up to a Dark Arches

Making friends with a Scalloped Oak Update: except that, as per yesterday's correction, this one is not a Common Rustic but a well-named Dot Moth. Further update: Sorry, I have been too hasty with my self-correcting As my kindly commentor says. This one IS a Lesser/Common Rustic. It was only yesterday's Dot Moth that I got wrong. 

Lesser/Common Rustic brothers beneath the wing - sorry the top one is blurred

Hawk moths are meanwhile coming in reasonable numbers; here are two Poplar Hawks and below them a nice Elephant Hawk:

Now for a nice Carpet moth, I think the Large Twin-spot, and below that with a Mother of Pearl moth (super-abundant just now) what I think is a Spruce Carpet, though I am not sure.

Talking of Mother of Pearls - one of the largest of the UK's 'micro' moths and considerably larger than many 'macros' - here is one showing how the wings owe something of their pearliness to being translucent, in this case allowing a little of the eggbox's orange to shimmer through.

Phew!  I will now content myself with simple captions and go and start to sort out another load of backlog moths...

Buff-tip

The year's first Dun-bar, which I suspect will feature in many mornings to come

Common Emerald

Nut-tree Tussock

The Bird-cherry Ermine, Yponomeuta econymella, a tiny micro whose pupating webs can envelop whole trees causing 'Moth doom' headlines in the media

I need a bit more time to sort this micro; may do it over early morning tea  Update: thanks to a handy reference by Dave Morris on the Upper Thames Moths blog, I am pretty sure that it is Epiblema foenella.

Female Ghost Moth with Heart and Dart

Scarce Footman

And lastly, yet another of the moths which baffle mw, though it may just be some sort of Marbled Minor

Catching Up

A bit of a miscellany today, drawn from my backlog and starting with a moth which even I have no trouble in identifying: the dark livery with its strikingly white kidney mark denotes a Common Rustic. Update: but oops, I have ridden for a fall yet again. I was reading back to last July, a practice which I am determined to keep up to help my faltering ID skills, and I realise that this a Dot Moth. A year ago, one came along with a Blackneck which contrastingly has a prominent black mark on a pale background. The Dot also has much more steeply raked wings than the Common Rustics. A cautionary tale, therefore.  But the story does not stop there. Just when amateurs such as myself are sinking back in our seats in satisfaction, a niggling caution tells us: yes, but is it a Common Rustic, a Lesser Common Rustic or even a Remm's Rustic? Infuriatingly, the difference can only be told by microscopic genital examination. So with this moth, it will remain a mystery.  Update: not any more, it won't.

Here it is again, above, in a picture which reveals that its 'black' is actually rather a subtle mixture of dark colours and that its scholarly-looking companion is a Common Wainscot.

The pretty, soft-focussed Muslin Footman in my next picture makes yet another appearance this morning partly on account of its positioning near the eggbox chicken's feet (I find eggbox variation almost as interesting as moths); and partly to allow me to record that there are so many about. This is officially a moth which is only locally common - not widespread but with certain concentrations. My garden is clearly one of those.

Jumping about a bit, here is a regular micro visitor, Agapeta hamana I think, whose dairy ice cream colours have an annoying ability to come in various patterns, the dots and dashes of different lengths. And below, one of the lighter versions of that old trouper the Dark Arches, one of my commonest visitors in July although others in the Upper Thames area report a decline in  numbers this year. That doesn't appear to be the case here.

Next, a pretty little Small Magpie, one of the UK's largest 'micro'-moths and, following that, another Common or Lesser Common Rustic with completely different patterning and colour from our friend above. Bah!

Then a very pretty Marbled Minor - another small group of very similar moths whose genitalia need checking to sort them out - and then a couple of differently coloured 'Pinocchio moths' - the long-nosed Snout. As with the Common/Lesser Common Rustic, such variations are the norm but it is the case that second generation of Snouts - hatching around now - are often smaller and darker. So maybe  that's what we have in the second picture.

Now for one of those infuriating Pugs - I have no idea which, and then a regular micro caller here, the Large Fruit Tree Tortrix, Archips podana.  

And lastly, a more interesting micro, Lozotaeniodes formosana, a sturdy and prettily-coloured species which made landfall in the UK only in 1949 but has taken to the English way of life and spread out across much of the country.