Sculptural Moths

 

Moths have enjoyed an increasingly high cultural profile during my years of light-trapping, with books, pictures and textile designs ever more disposed to choose them as a subject or inspiration. Now they have made it into sculpture with these three curious objects just down the road from here, near a new development which swarms with thrifty pensioners such as Penny and myself because the café offers excellent deals on hot drinks and buns. 

You may ask what these 'frozen sneezes' as my younger son happily describes them have to do with moths. The answer is that artist Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg, who coincidentally was a university contemporary of the said son, believes them to represent the clouds of scent released by flowers and shaped by the batting wings of moths as they seek to pollinate in the dark.  You can read more about them here.  

They are too clumsy for my liking but maybe moths do see the misty world of  smoke and scents as more solid that it appears to the human eye. At any rate, they make an excellent talking point in the parsimonious pensioners' haunt and all publicity is good publicity for moths, except for the cursed legacy of the handful of species whose larvae eat high quality clothes. 

The world of actual moths in my garden and light trap is currently largely monochrome and unexciting, though the two different colourways (out of three) of the Lunar Underwing, above, make an interesting contrast. The third is more orangey and there are subtler variations within each broad band. It's harder to find compliments for the Deep Brown Dart, first two photos below, or the Lesser Yellow Underwing which keeps its eponymous petticoats tightly veiled.

The Beaded Chestnut, below, is a little bit more appealing although less bright than most examples of this species; and I actually approve of the particularly example of the Square-spot Rustic below that, which I hereby nickname the OK Moth.

The next moth is greatly superior, my first example this year of the very smart Autumnal Rustic which looks like an officer in the Confederate army in the American Civil War. (I hope that they are not heading for another one). Then we have the fine black Darth Vader moth, unsurprisingly officially called the Black Rustic, plus a second one giving us a glimpse of its contrastingly shiny white underclothes, and a little Tawny-barred Angle which has seen better days.

Rounding off the moths, I can never resist a green one, as you know, and here is another Brindled Green creeping into an eggbox niche, followed by three differently-sized and -coloured Willow Beauties and a lovely Vestal; amazing that this thumbnail-sized moth is an immigrant from across the Channel, albeit using high-level winds and air currents rather than small boats.

Butterflies meanwhile continue to enjoy the sunshine and here are a Red Admiral and Speckled Wood, both about in our village in abundance, with the Speckled Wood males performing their curious spiralling dance in the dappled sunlight by the canal which is their favourite spot. The entomological jury is out on whether this is some sort of courtship display or an 'I can spiral faster and higher than you' competition.

And so to conclude, here is a Giant House Spider (we are entering an arachnaphile young cousin's competition to find the biggest) and a crane fly, better-known in every way as a Daddy Long-legs. 

Doubling Up the Greens

My great pleasure at hosting a Scarce Silver Lines the other day has been doubled by the arrival of two more. Their predecessor had a torn wing but these are in tip-top condition and clearly a fresh generations, since this species normally flies in a relatively brief period between June and August. I can't post too many pictures of them - sorry - because their colouring is so scrumptious.

Here's a view of one from underneath, a different but still delightful shade of green. The moth fluttered off when I was carefully ferrying them from the moth trap's jumbled pile of eggboxes to somewhere more suitable for photography. Luckily it was too cautious or sleepy to go far and I followed its uncertain flight to this dead plant stem.  The two pictures below that shows my home-made moth ferry.

The second moth took up residence on the trap's transparent cowl, thus giving a full and interesting view of its plump body - a detail which makes me think that it is a female.

Here's a Mint Moth micro meanwhile, maybe hoping that the eggbox lettering helps to disguise its presence - a great many moths seem to seek the various descriptions, warnings and other printing to roost on. And after that, a series of pictures of the immigrant (and now almost certainly successful colonist) Silver Y, one of the very first moths I remember watching as it flew by day.

Next, my first Brindled Green of the year and then a Rosy Rustic, a species which has been turning up in samll numbers all Summer long, a bright Sallow and another newcomer for the year, the Black Rustic aka the Darth Vader moth.

And finally, a Small Dusty Wave, one of the titchiest of UK macro moths, and another of my frequent but beautiful Light Emeralds.

A Helpful Vestal

 The Vestal is a beautiful moth but also a very enterprising one, capable of migrating from the Continent to the UK every year in spite of its thumbnail size. It takes its name from both the air of purity given by the simple, delicate colouring and specifically the pinkish-purple band which resembles the stripes on the ceremonial robes worn by the eponymous women in Ancient Rome who ran the temple of Vesta, the goddess of the hearth.

My photos of Vestals are normally like the one below as the moth is almost always crouched with its wings tightly folded and seldom reacts when tickled or otherwise disturbed. I was lucky that a tumble of eggboxes temporarily disconcerted the one above and I was quick enough to capture the full spread of its wings.

It is a good time of year for fragile-looking 'Laura Ashley' moths and one of the largest and most striking is the Swallowtail, below. Almost ghostly in colouring and flight, it usually has a fairly brief, single flight window in July but the current weather has played pop with orthodoxy. This is probably a second generation example, freshly emerged from its chrysalis and blessed with the return of warm, dry weather.

The Light Emerald is another such but around in much larger numbers and for a longer period. Its lovely green is repeated in the humble lacewing, second below, whose wings when tilted in the light also glow with purple and pink.

The last of my regular sallow moths has turned up, the actual Sallow with its scrambled egg colouring, tones shared by the little micro Carcina quercana which has recently been given the very literal-minded English name of Long-horned Flat Body. The lovely pink background to the second example is Me.

Away from these pretty moths, we have a purposeful Lunar Underwing, a very common arrival now that late Summer is upon us, and an alarming-looking but sleepily docile hornet stumbling dozily from one eggbox to a second.