Mine's a Mocha

 

Two posts ago, before our holiday in Greece, I was saying how unusual it is to have a completely new arrival in the moth trap. That was in the context of an overnighting Lunar-spotted Pinion which I thought at first was a debut, but then discovered in my records of quite a few years ago.

Today's star moth really IS new and it's one which I've long hoped-for: the Mocha, with its delicious pattern and colour reminiscent of a cup of frothy coffee. That's where the name comes from; in 18th century England when the entomologists were drawing up names, Ethiopian coffee was often known as Mocha after the Yemeni town Mokha through which it was exported.  The coffee frequently had a chocolatey taste which played its part in today's use of the word for a mixed coffee and chocolate drink. 

The Mocha is quite a scarce moth, categorised as Nationally Rare B, but I suspect that it may have been here before and gone un-noticed by me because I have always had the idea that it is quite a lot bigger than is actually the case. Here is the first photo I took of it on one of the eggboxes, showing how it actually comes into the overcrowded spectrum of the Riband Wave, Fan-footed Wave and many others of that size and pale colouring which are very common callers.

The moth trap is extremely busy on these heatwave nights with hundreds of arrivals, the smaller ones completely unmanageable. Here are pictures of the very smallest which comes in shoals and whose identity defies me, and others showing how many of the little white web-spinning ermine micros are turning up.

Ermines feature too in these next photos of a pair of Red Twin-spot Carpets followed by a Common Carpet and then that subtly delightful moth, the Tree-lichen Beauty whose discreet greens and greys are a feast for the eye and worth a prolonged look.

Ruby Tigers have started coming to the light, the smallest of a very brightly-coloured tribe. They have a remarkable glow, even without the sun on their backs, and fine red underwings and knee-breeches on their front legs.

The first Dusky Thorn of high Summer paid a call as well:

Out and about, I disturbed one of the many Yellow Shell moths which live in the hedges round our local Big Field and are very easily roused by passers-by. Back home after the walk, we had a hawk moth whispering sesssion with one of my sisters who is staying with us; the big insects are very docile and everyone enjoys the slightly tickly experience of having one clinging to a finger.

This striking micro below meanwhile intrigued me and I have enjoyed tracking it down in the Micromoth Bible. The AI identification which is now blessedly standard on my iPhone is very good but cannot produce a completely trustworthy ID for a little splinter of moth like this. It's Epiblema foenalla which is actually rated common, although I do not recall seeing one here before.

Two other micro visitors also defied the AI ID which guessed that they were American species - and to be fair, always warns me hat it may be wrong. The first is Calamotropha paludella, a tricky one to nail down and for a while I thought that it might be the macro Silky Wainscot. It is only locally found. And then we have Udea prunalis, a fairly regular caller pictured alongside part of my knee. A welcome development in UK moth affairs is the gradual giving of vernacular names to all UK micros via iRecord and these are respectively the White-foot Bell, the Bulrush Veneer and the Dusky Pearl. 

Two special macro favourites from the eggboxes next: the lovely Herald which pays visits from May onwards, and the pale, creamy Swallowtail moth, on my finger and through the trap's sort-of transparent cowl.

Now for a trio of dainty moths in the Same as the Mocha category which I mentioned above: a famously-misnamed Single-dotted Wave, a pretty Least Carpet and a Latticed Heath,  the moth which thinks that it is a butterfly because it always holds its wings folded up vertically over its back when at rest, an unusual habit for a UK moth but invariable in our butterflies..

And so to a Yellow-tail, discreetly hiding the reason for its name, and finally both forms of that menace to owners of neat hedges, the Box moth.  Quite a haul today and more of the same, I suspect, tomorrow.