Colour chemistry

I was admiring some pottery this week at one of the studios open under Oxfordshire's excellent ArtWeeks. Apart from rejoicing in the skills people have, the thing which struck me was the transformation of dull-looking glazes into the rich colours which illuminate ceramics.

It's an alchemy which must have helped the long-standing credulity about Fool's Gold, and it also applies in the extraordinary transformation of caterpillar to adult insect, the pupating stage. Thanks to a process which at one stage turns the animal into nothing so much as a sort of soup, a striking red and viridian creature such as the Cinnabar moth - above - which visited the trap last night, emerges from a process which started with a black and yellow caterpillar.

You may be familiar with these from Ragwort, that excellent plant which needs defending against some horse owners whose understandable wish to keep it out of their paddocks should not extend to a wider ban. Meanwhile here is last night's second newcomer, a micro-moth which may be the immigrant Rush Veneer, Nomophila noctuella, but I'm not (yet) sure. If it is, I salute something so small for making it from the Continental mainland to our island shores. Update: but it isn't. Many thanks to expert fellow-contributors to the excellent Upper Thames Moths blog for clocking it as one of the greyish Cnephasia micros, probably communana but the infuriatingly similar group can only be distinguished by genital examination and I'm not up to that.

Another very small overnighter was this Least Black Arches which in spite of its Lilliput size is a macro-moth, one of the smallest found in the UK. It had tucked itself right at the bottom of an eggbox cone and wasn't too pleased when I tore the cardboard to get at it. I just had time to take the second picture before it fluttered away.

Carpet World

We have just pulled up some carpets to expose wooden parquet flooring which we prefer. The opposite is happening in the moth world. Gradually warming weather last night brought a flutter of Carpet moths - not textile-munchers like the Tinea family but named because their beautiful patterns brought Oriental carpets (then a novel fashion) to the minds of 18th century entomologists.

The eggboxes contained, in order of my pictures today, a Green Carpet, a Red Twin-spot Carpet (with its twin-spots nicely obvious) and a Garden Carpet. Plus a fourth comrade whose ID I cannot master because it was resting with its wings held over its body in butterfly fashion, a habit sometimes followed by these little moths.

The other main object of interest in the trap was my first China Mark of the year, a tiny little creature which resembles a bird dropping and thus escapes the attention of predatory birds. As it happened, there was a China Mark-sized bird dropping on a nearby leaf and I took a bird's eye photo to emphasise the point. Update: brainstorm time. I meant Chinese Character moth; the China Marks are a quartet of micros.



The name China Mark has similar origins to the Carpets' but this time it was the resemblance of the little moth's delicate patterning to Oriental porcelain, another craze of the 18th century as more and more trading ships followed in the footsteps of Dick Whittington and his cat. Here it is again, below, with the rather similarly marked micro, I think Cochylis atricapitana.

Finally, some of the other inhabitants of the eggboxes. Things are warming up in terms of number and variety as well as degrres Fahrenheit and Centigrade.

An unusual view of a Muslin moth's tummy through my sadly murky trap shield

Cochylis atricapitana (I think) closer up

One of the Plume micros, ID to come

I think another Cochylis a, but am putting here to double-check later

And finally - and very late - my first 2014 maybug

The Economist is lured to moths again

Here's the cover at Concita's very moment
of triumph in the Eurovision Song Contest

For the second time in this blog's life, the moth has been chosen to illustrate the cover of The Economist, a famous weekly example of graphic art at its best. The subject is different but the imagery the same; not surprisingly it is the powerful and very long-standing image of 'the moth to the flame'.

This goes back to distant times, well before Portia's "Thus hath the candle singed the moth" in The Merchant of Venice, as an allegory of dangerous temptation - and of course it applies to the light-trapping which provides my material here. I'm glad to say, though, that like Portia's disappointed suitor Aragon, my moths depart alive (and unsinged).

It was only one moth back in August 2009.
I wrote to ask which species they'd used but
nobody replied

The other famous imagery involving moths is their role as clothing pests, which is even dignified by inclusion in the Sermon on the Mount: "Lay not up for yourself treasures upon Earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt." This implies, alarmingly, that there may not be moths in Heaven, but I am confident myself that only the very small number of guilty species - notably Tinolea bisselliella - will be excluded, which will be no great loss.

Quotations about the beauty and interest of moths are sadly harder to find, but I'll leave you with a very nice piece of imagery from Browning's poem, The Gondola. It reminds me of my Mum's 'butterfly kisses' which involve delicately brushing the recipient's cheek with your eyelashes. I'm glad to say that my tiny granddaughter appears to approve of these.

THE moth's kiss, first!
Kiss me as if you made me believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up; so, here and there
You brush it, till I grow aware
Who wants me...

Farewell, my lovely

After keeping my late imperial visitor, the female Emperor moth, roosting quietly in her eggbox to show a fellow-enthusiast on Thursday afternoon, I slipped her and the eggbox deep into a hawthorn hedge where I imagined she would slip away to somewhere wilder and more congenial.

Instead, as I discovered yesterday morning, she preferred to stay exactly where she was. So although her egg-laying suggested that she was no longer interested in attracting males, I tried a hour or so's 'assembling' just in case the eggs are infertile and she hadn't mated.

The rather lovely picture at the top shows her in her muslin veil, actually a jam strainer waiting another of my hobbies. She seemed quite happy but didn't - I think; I'm not very good on the details of small body parts - extrude the organ which spreads the pheromone whose effect on male Emperor moths is quite extraordinary.

There are verified accounts of Emperors mating even before the female has dried out and spread her wings to their full extent, after emerging from the cocoon. Equally promptly, the females began to emit the pheromones straight away, so it's a consensual operation.  Given that the adult moths do not feed and therefore do not live very long, what with their large bodies and wings, this is a remarkable example of Nature going to extremely sophisticated lengths to ensure one thing: the survival of the species. It takes almost a year from egg to adult moth, a childhood followed immediately by a very short life.

Anyway, no male Emperors came and so I tempted the Empress on to my grubby fingers and, again after much encouragement, saw her safely take wing.  Altogether a memorable experience, for which I am very grateful. Update: I'm very grateful to Dave Wilton, the mainstay of the truly excellent Upper Thames Moths blog, for IDs on the two pics below - see Comments. The rhopalid bug is Coryzus hyoscyami which Dave says 'has been marching north from the south coast over the past few years", and the eggs are probably a ladybird's. I've left my mistype of 'fiends' for 'friends' because it sounds more interesting.

Meanwhile I made fiends with this beetle

And discovered some more insect eggs on a Marigold seedling

The things you find in a changing cubicle

After yesterday's wonders, I gave the moths a rest last night, especially as I didn't want to bother the Empress by drawing her out again from deep in a hawthorn hedge where I hid her after several very enjoyable 'show-and-tell's with friends and neighbours. None had seen the beautiful insect before which is interesting because Emperor moths are primarily dayflyers and their size certainly makes them noticeable (if sometimes easy to confuse with one of the darker, common types of butterfly such as the peacock. So perhaps this is another moth whose numbers are on the rise.

Instead of a moth, here is the first orchid in our neighbourhood, whose riches in this field of botany surprised and delighted Penny and me last year. I am guessing that it is an Early Purple, spotted by a vigilant neighbour who regularly walks along the sun-dappled path where the flowers are to be found. But I will check further after breakfast. Update: which I've now done and I think it's actually a Green-winged Orchid which is new to me, and nice. The name has nothing to do with the riotous TV comedy Green Wing but refers to those greeny-coloured lines on the petals. I also meant to point out the tiny spider in the close-up picture - at the top of a petal on the top left.

We are not entirely mothless today, however. Last night I got a cheery email from my excellent niece Jessie's partner Winnie with a picture of this handsome Herald moth with which he shared a cubicle at Hackney Lido in London (a very enjoyable and well-organised place to swim btw). Nice find, Winnie, and timely. As I said yesterday, the Emperor moth has the cover of the Moth Bible to itself. The Herald monopolises the book's spine.

And here is Wednesday night's other newcomer, a Heart and Dart, whose name was the basis of the blog's first (and still I think only) competition back in one of my very earliest posts in June 2008. Subsequently a New York soap business called Heart and Dart got in touch with me and I'm glad to say that still seem to be in business. Like me.

Empress of the sun

My birthday isn't until next week (the 18th, presents, cards etc welcome), but one gift has come early. I never expected to see one of these glorious creatures in my light trap: a female Emperor Moth, the species given the honour of monopolising the cover of the Moth Bible.

They are not actually uncommon but I associate them with upland heather moors where I found their cocoons as a schoolboy, tramping down from Ravenscar to Boggle Hole near Robin Hood's Bay. But I should have been ready. There have been Emperor catches on the excellent Upper Thames Moth blog to which I also contribute, somewhat more pithily than here.

The Emperor is a dayflyer (hence my tweak of J G Ballard for this post's title) but the Empress is the one which also comes to light, usually early in the evening. So it was lucky that I over-rode my original judgement last night and decided to put out the trap in spite of gusty conditions and the forecast of rain. Not expecting much, I was over the moon to find her dozing on one of the top eggboxes this morning, alongside a Poplar Hawk, a Powdered Quaker, two Flame Shoulders, a Hebrew Character, a Shuttle-shape Dart and - new for this year like the Emperor - a Heart and Dart.

Better still, beneath the Empress's wings there was a clutch of eggs which I now plan to raise as caterpillars to increase the species population hereabouts next year. More on this as we go along. My next decision is whether to try 'assembling' before releasing the Empress. This is a moth enthusiasts' practice whereby a captive female is placed under netting which often attracts courting males - a trick also played by MI5, the KGB & Co.

Trousered

We went out to neighbours last night and when we came in, Penny turned on the lights and then said: "There's a moth on your trousers." Rather than being an elaborate code for zip or buttons being insecure, this was true; one of the Brimstone moths whose daring spirit and love of freedom have caught my attention before was perching behind my knee.

It fluttered off before we code photograph it in situ and did several cartwheels round the light before settling on a wall as shown above. Inspired by this and because the night seemed a little warmer than Saturday, I changed my mind about not lighting the lamp and went outside and set the moth trap.

There was only one moth in residence this morning, along with the startling-looking Ophion Fly at the top of this post. But it was a good one, a Poplar Hawk.  They seem to come when the trap is placed at one end of the lawn, and not when it's at the other. I mentioned the crimson patches on their underwings a couple of posts ago and after a little shaking of the eggbox, this specimen kindly showed them - a clear warning device. Keep off!

Fashionware

The Muslin moth is the only species braving the current very cold nights in any numbers, so here's one again. But I don't apologise for repetition as he is showing a feature which I haven't caught in previous pictures this year: his fine yellow-lined breeches.

I've remarked before on the lovely patterning and gentle colour of this moth, which dressmakers must surely have noted. Do you agree that the yellow adds a becoming dash to the generally modest tone? A
hint of fire.

I say 'he' because the female Muslin is entirely different, as white as her relative the White Ermine. She really is modest, though, even timid. She does not come to light.

Finally, a different animal and not a wild one, currently visiting our area on a narrowboat. I say 'a' but look carefully. It's either Cerberus or there are two.

Brrrr...

What a difference a drop in temperature makes. We had a visiting moth expert come for lunch today along with his entomological grandson, and hoped for a grand, joint examination of treasures in the eggboxes. The examination took place but the moth population numbered just two, this Muslin moth - note the antennae out again; I think this is the standard behaviour of male Muslin moths when asleep, albeit very unusual when compared to other moths - and the Hebrew Character below (on a cousin's beautiful hand whose whorls would delight Scotland Yard's fingerprinting department).

The expert was very kind about the dearth and was cheered to find this non-moth insect shortly afterwards on one of our ferns.

Later, P and I went to examine an ancient patch of undisturbed scrubby woodland called Weavely Furze which is mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and survived the 17th century enclosures as a place for the poor of the parish to collect 'furze' or firewood. It's a heck of a trek from the two villages in the parish; but maybe sights such as this female Orange Tip cheered up our ancestors as they foraged.

Handsome threesome

Everything is earlier this year in the UK moth world and last night the hawk moths showed that they are no exception. Much the biggest of our moth families, they are always a pleasure to see among the eggboxes, each with its own additional attributes to mere size. In the case of these Poplar Hawks, it's partly their unique resting position with the forewings drawn back until they are actually behind the leading edge of the hindwing. There's also a certain Farrer & Ball tastefulness to their grey, especially when combined with a glimpse of the maroon patch on their hindwings.

On Penny's famous Pen Scale

I saw that when I carefully decanted them into a bush out of reach of the birds but it was too gloomy to try to get a photograph. There are plenty back on the blog if you have lots of spare time to trawl. I'll have another go in the next few weeks because Poplars are bound to be back.

We got back late last night from a stunning live cinema-cast of the National Theatre's latest King Lear and I didn't light the lamp until 11.30pm. So these are late flyers and also large and energetic enough to tolerate the colder watches of the night.  Meanwhile Gloucester's famous lines:

As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods;
They kill us for their sport

reminds me that we must maintain our watch and counter-attack against the horrible Blandford Fly. Apologies to dipterists of a humane disposition.

Was this (on the trap shield) a Blandford Fly?  I hope so.

Horny

I referred to devils yesterday and their various attributes, prompted by the forked tongue of our local slowworm. One of the other features I mentioned was horns and Lo! Here this morning is a moth with a neat little pair.

It's a Tawny Pinion, one of quite a number of UK species whose numbers are showing encouraging signs of growing.  The 'horns' are palps, I think, organs found in moths, butterflies and other insects which play various sensitive roles to do with nectaring, flying et al. One of those subjects I need time to research. Note also the moth's shoulders which protrude forward so far that they resemble an owl's ears.

Meanwhile my tally of freedom-loving Brimstone moths grows daily. I've had one in the trap but another seven perched nearby on various nights. Then Penny and I saw one in an Oxford car park fluttering around by day, and yesterday we found this one on the footbridge at Bicester North railway station (alight here for Bicester Village shopping mall, along with thousands of mainly Chinese tourists).

It was a dangerous place to perch but at least the rush hour was well over. Finally, here is the special ice made by my daughter-in-law for my glass of water yesterday. M is Martin and Moths and if you swivel the glass - hey presto! below - W is for Wainwright and, um, Wings I suppose.