Oranges and... Oranges

Another of the early Autumnal Sallow family arrived last night: the Orange Sallow with its simple colouring but very delicate pattern of slender lines. Given that all the Sallows are orange in one shade or another, it was lucky to be chosen to carry its simple name. But perhaps it deserves it on the grounds of elegance alone. 

Meanwhile another of the Mocha and Wave family paid a second visit, a Small Bloodvein, alongside an equally Laura Ashley-like relative, the Lesser Cream Wave in my second picture below.

It was good, too, to host a Red Underwing after a couple of weeks absence following my Light Crimson Underwing excitements last month. This specimen was a bit tattered and battle-worn but flew off powerfully after a few minutes of recovering and waking from its overnight sleep. 

Finally, here is an old faithful which makes regular appearances every few weeks in the trap: the Angle Shades with its rakish, jetplane shape and the leading edges of its wings furled, umbrella style, like the rarer Lilac Beauty, found by a neighbour, which I recently discussed. 

Maidenly delights

The family of mochas and waves, known scientifically as the Sterrhinae, has been very good to me this year. The Mocha itself, a moth for which I have long hoped, at last paid a visit as did a Jersey Mocha or Blair's Mocha, whose identity is still in the hands of the experts at iRecord. 

My latest caller is a regular but only occasionally; one of the most delicate of the family and with perhaps the most appealing name: the Maiden's Blush. Here it is, blushing away on my pyjamas which appear on so many of my photos as I rise before morning tea to examine the trap.

A second nice surprise was the even more occasional arrival of a Bulrush Wainscot, one of the largest of another elegant family of moths, the Noctuidae, and a testament to the fact that we have plenty of bulrushes growing round here on ponds and beside the Oxford Canal. 

 

Below is a Common Wainscot, the most regular of the family to call here as its name suggests. I am sorry, I should have provided a scale but it is less than half the size of its Bulrush relation. Perhaps the magnification of the eggbox structure shows that. 

My examination of the trap's contents is watched these days by not just one but a pair of robins, possibly brothers from a Spring brood, which compete for territory in the garden. This is actually a bonus as they spend more time jealously keeping an eye on one another than watching for errant moths.

Here is a tiny scrap of a micro, the sort which I often fail to bother to photograph, but I am glad that I did because of the distinctive little pink mark.  I am currently trying to ID it and will update this when I do. Update: and now I have done and - silly me - this is actually a macro moth, an extremely small one but well-known, indeed notorious as an agricultural pest. It is a Pale Mottled Willow, an immigrant moth which has settled here all too successfully. I've note it before, but at my age short-term memory plays tricks.

Next a Willow Beauty with a curious marking on its left forewing which I plan to ask about on the Upper Thames Moths Facebook page. Again, I will update if any interesting information comes from that. Update: and they have, Many thanks for interesting suggestions, shown in a snapshot of the FB replies, just below the pic of the moth.

Finally among the current moths, two Whitepoints in slightly different colour tones, exaggerated for good measure by the iPhone. 

The sunshine meanwhile continues to bring butterflies, which have been exceptional this Summer. Here is a Brown Argus on our vegetable patch and one of a huge new brood of Speckled Woods whose males engage in their curious spiralling combat flights in the mottled shade which they love so much.

And here's a female Common Darter dragonfly having a rest for once, amid its high-speed flights round the garden hawking for little flies, and lastly a hornet, fierce-looking but amiable although we're relieved that their nest in our eaves last year has not been revived.

Boo!

The Yellow-tails are back with a vigorous second generation; a surprising name for a moth which on first inspection turns out to be largely white with just a few flecks of blackish brown. But wait. If a male wants to draw the attention of a nearby mate, look what happens, below.

One of the half-dozen examples in the trap conveniently fluttered off to a window of our shed when I tickled it with a leaf. Through the glass, you can see the end of its body more clearly. This is where moths mate, tail-to-tail, and it seems appropriate that the spot is marked by a little heart. 

Silver Ys have been turning up regularly, an immigrant moth in my youth but now established as a breeding resident. They are one of the most frequently-spotted dayflyers in the country, little whirrs of grey nectaring at wildflowers in the manner of Hummingbird Hawk moths albeit duller and less skilful. I was cycling to meet Penny yesterday after her tennis and I stalked and photographed just such a one. A few minutes earlier, I saw another Clouded Yellow butterfly, a feature of this sunny Summer, but missed the chance to photograph it.

There are some nice Autumnal colours in the moth trap these mornings although the forecasters are predicting a lovely September before the seasons change.  Here is a Brimstone moth followed by a Frosted Orange, a Centre-barred Sallow - one of the commonest of my brighter arrivals since mid-August - and a glowing Barred Sallow with a similar palette but differently painted.

I've also been pleased to find some characterful smaller moths in the last three days: a Vestal with its mauve angled stripe like the Roman Vestals' toga, first one in its usual resting position and then a second more unusually shown with wings half outstretched. Then a spiky-looking Cypress Carpet whose colour and patterns slightly resemble the eggbox barcode on which it slept,  a Chinese Character with the reason for its name glinting brightly, and its fellow 'bird-poo moth', a Lime-speck Pug.

The Box moth which is causing such hedge devastation still pays weekly calls in spite of a neighbour successfully preserving her hedge - very unusually in my experience - by the patient chore of checking it daily for caterpillars and killing them. Then we have a couple of many Willow Beauties which appear night after night. Note the much-exaggerated, different colour as the otherwise excellent iPhone plays its digital tricks with the light.

Another very common moth at the moment is the Flounced Rustic, below, followed by its less common relative, the Square-spot Rustic.

Elsewhere in the busy Natural world, here is a neighbour's tortoise ravenously devouring a dandelion, a quartet of heron pictures from a wander round Wolvercote Lakes, a delightful small nature reserve, and a Nursery Web Spider,  also known as the Cunning Spider and Bridal Gift Spider. The names sound like something from a sinister murder story but actually come from the complex mating process, although this is a risky business in which death can occur.  I can do not better than quote Wikipedia before ending this post with a classic piece of 'art bollocks' involving a spider-like lemon squeezer whose use rather resembles the messy procedures of the mating Nursery Web.

'Males of this species offer a nuptial gift to potential female mates. Some Pisaura mirabilisspecimens have also been observed to use thanatosis during courtship.After presenting the nuptial gift to the female, she bites on to the gift and the male moves to her epigyne to deposit sperm with his pedipalps. Throughout copulation, the male keeps a leg on the gift so as to be ready if she tries to escape with it or attack him. At this time, the male may feign death – his limbs become straight and he is dragged along with the female while holding on to the gift. When the female stops, the male slowly "resurrects" and continues attempting to mate.'