Buttoned up

Not being a particular fan of Winter Moths, I have all but moth-balled (ho-hum, no pun originally  intended) the trap for the Winter though I may bring it out next month to create a brightly shining Christmas star. To my surprise, however, I have spent today in the company of not just one Nationally Scarce B moth but two. I was organising piles of old but interesting paperwork in our cobwebby attic when I saw a telltale flutter.

It was the Buttoned Snout, above, a moth which I only met for the first time in April this year when I had second thoughts about checking another little flutter on the bare soil of our vegetable garden. Its distinguished status may be about to change as in recent years it appears to have increased in numbers in parts of the South and Midlands including Oxfordshire Maybe our attic is a key expansion base.

My speculation about that was fuelled by a second modest flutter when I swept behind an archive box and roused the moth in my second picture. This is the standard version of the Button Snout whereas the first one is, I think, the form unicolor. In the standard form, the reasons for the species' name is evident: the smart, shiny button marks on the forewing. Along with the light-coloured streak, they give the moth an air of working on the lobby staff of a grand hotel.

I was very encouraged about this as my archiving task is likely to see me spending rather a lot of time in the roofspace, like Montaigne in his tower though perhaps not so productively. My day was made complete by a hibernating Peacock which got into such a tizz about the attic's light being unexpectedly on, that I let it out of a window into the cold. I never know whether one should do this to creatures woken from hibernation. But at least it wasn't raining, and if it does, the butterfly can surely creep back in.

Variety show

 

The nights are getting colder and our late-sown Morning Glory and Cosmos are struggling to bring to flower the buds which they have bravely produced in the last few weeks. I'm finding it similarly tough to keep putting out the moth trap in the hope of a few surprises, especially as the mornings are also pretty dark when it's time for P's and my tea.

However, the arrival of a swept-wing Oak Hook-tip a week ago cheered my outlook and I was intrigued by the almost entirely featureless but dainty moth below. I think that it is one of the Winter/Autumnal/November brethren whose colour and pattern scales are even more indistinct than usual and perhaps mssing scales;  but it is nonetheless gracefully pretty along with its reflection and it had no problem in flying away.

The eggboxes have since maintained at least a show of variety, with below (l-r) a Cypress Carpet, a Sprawler, a Scarce Umber and the dart-shaped micro Udea ferrugalis, also known more appealingly as the Rusty-dot Pearl.

Then we have the iPhone's two takes on Feathered Thorns, a nice Beaded Chestnut and one of a regular series of December moths which do at least look suited to the month with their woolly coats.

Next an unknown type of fly, though my new ID ally the iPhone bug-identifyer suggest Mesembrina merediniana or the Noonday Fly. I will check that out further but accept it for now.  Then we have another Rusty-dot Pearl. and a second example of digital camera colour changes with two Mottled Umbers, the first unusually showing its petticoat underwings.

Lastly, a third and much more isosceles Rusty-dot Pearl, a Light Brown Apple micro, Epiphyas postvittana, and two November/Winter/Autumnals, the first showing its petticoats too, albeit a little more shyly than the Mottled Umber.  Not a bad range in a week as the final month of the year draws closer.

Thank Goodness, the Merveille has made it

The night sky is busy with lights at this time of year - Guy Fawkes above and Hallowe'en below. Can the moth trap hold its own against such exciting alternative attractions. Fortunately the answer is Yes, it can. 

And fortunately too, there are still lovely things out there for it to tempt, above all the fabulous Merveille du Jour which has always visited me here in the late Autumn. I love the name as much as the subtly-coloured moth itself, although strictly speaking it is a Merveille de la Nuit. The composite below is interesting because the closest by far of the four images to what the human eye sees is the one at the bottom right. iPhone cameras are marvellous but their relentless search for light can play pop with colours and tones. 

Elsewhere among the eggboxes, I have been visited by this distinctive micro below,  Acleris variegana or the Garden Rose Tortrix. I've posted two pictures so that you can tell from the eggbox what a mite it is.

Then we have another of the many Emmelina monodactyla micros which my garden clear-ups are disturbing by day; and after that a fourth micro whose focus is, I think, too blurred for a definite ID.  

Finally, a typical souvenir of another visit to the grandchildren, a ladybird late to hibernate and meanwhile dallying next to a grandson's brightly-varnished nail. You may be able to see from the photo that his thumbnail is blue. They are as bright as any Brazilian butterfly.