2024 Moth Highlights

December always feels to me like a surplus month. Bird and moth-wise it's basically all over by the end of November, but...well...here's another 31 days just in case. And judging by recent Bluesky 'Moth Highlights of 2024' type posts, it's not just me who feels that way. Yes, there might be some decent birding yet to come this year, but my heart isn't really in it. I'm not exactly sure why I feel this way, but it may well be an age thing. In recent years I have noticed that the end of autumn is accompanied by an increasingly desperate longing for next spring! Anyway, here is the NQS 'Moth Highlights of 2024' type post...

As I knew would be the case, garden mothing in 2024 was pursued far less zealously than during the preceding 18 months or so. I didn't count catches, or note down very much at all, but did try to keep track of species new for the garden. So I am fairly confident that the garden tally (including aggregates) is now 553, of which 304 are macro-moths. I did take quite a few moth pics, so here is a fairly random selection of what I feel are the year's highlights...

Clockwise from top left: Beautiful Snout, December Moth (male and female), Frosted Orange, Herald.

The Beautiful Snout was actually trapped in our son's garden in Lyme Regis, but is such a stunner that it automatically earned itself a place here.

Clockwise from top left: Olive-tree Pearl Palpita vitrealis, Small Mottled Willow, Dark Sword-grass, Portland Ribbon Wave.

Nominally these are all migrants, though our Portland Ribbon Waves are quite likely Dorset bred. Olive-tree Pearl and Small Mottled Willow have occurred just once prior to this year, so three and two respectively was a nice result.

Clockwise from top left: Large Ranunculus, Banded Sable Spoladea recurvalis, Scarce Bordered Straw, Mottled Umber.

Large Ranunculus and Mottled Umber were both new for the garden. Scarce Bordered Straw is another migrant that has occurred just once previously, and we caught two this year. Spoladea recurvalis is easily the rarest migrant moth of the year, but was encountered at Cogden while birding. Typical.

Clockwise from top left: Grey Shoulder-knot, Cloaked Carpet, Least Black Arches, Oak Marble Eudemis profundana.

All the above were garden firsts except Cloaked Carpet, which has occurred once before.

Clockwise from top left: Galium Carpet, Lesser Wax Moth Achroia grisella, Garden Tiger, Black-streaked Tortrix Epinotia signatana.

All the above were garden firsts. As is often the case, the two micros are probably the scarcest of that lot, but Garden Tiger is nowadays on the Red List and has Near Threatened status. Certainly it's the first I've seen for donkey's years.

Clockwise from top left: Ghost Moth, Clover Stilt Parectopa ononidis, Ilex Leaf-miner Phyllonorycter messaniella, Red Underwing.

Apart from the Red Underwing - our second - all the above are new for the garden. The Clover Stilt was one of the highlights of a couple of very warm nights' mothing back in the summer. It is also possibly the scarcest moth trapped in 2024, and I think my personal favourite of the year.

So that's it for moths. The trap is now in...er...moth balls.

Zoom F1 Field Recorder

An afternoon walk to West Bay and back seemed like a fine way to check out my new Zoom F1 Field Recorder. I've set the record level to max now (Hi++) so was keen to see how it performed...

This is my on-the-go recording set-up.

My camera bag strap goes across the body and over my left shoulder, so the clippy lavalier mic winds up just behind my left shoulder. A handy thing with these old Crumpler Muffin Top bags is that the strap padding grips your shoulder pretty well, so it tends to stay in place even as you pull the bag back and forth to get at the camera - the webbing simply slides through the padded bit - which means the microphone is generally where it's meant to be. Some birders clip the mic to the peak of their cap, but I don't often wear a cap.

The Zoom F1. My settings: Rec Format 48k 24bit, Lo Cut 160Hz, Limiter OFF, Rec Level Hi++

I made a note of the time I started recording, and headed off.

I am not in the habit of reviewing a whole recording like I would with noc-mig, rather I note the time of any interesting bird sounds and check them out on Audacity later by scrolling to the relevant time slot. So here are a couple from today, exactly as recorded...

First, Grey Wagtail, with trickling river...

And Rock Pipit, complete with surging sea...

Both recordings are comfortably as loud as I would have expected, and detailed enough to get a decent spectrogram out of them. This is the Rock Pipit...

Rock Pipit calls. Unedited. The dense background noise is caused by the sea.

I am confident that the Zoom F1 performed as well as my H4n Pro would have done. So far I've had about seven hours of recording from the 2xAAA batteries in the F1, and the charge indicator is still on two bars. The H4n Pro would have been long dead by now.

I am using my EM272 mono clippy microphone, a quality item which retails at almost 50 quid. The F1 is supplied with a Zoom clippy mic. Is it any good?

Zoom clippy on the left, EM272 right.

I took both mics to the garden cabin and tried a side-by-side test. I positioned each in exactly the same spot - without wind shields of any kind - and played them a bit of half-volume bird song from the Collins Bird Guide app on my phone. Obviously the phone was positioned identically for each mic too. So here are some side-by-side spectrograms from that session...

Garden Warbler - Zoom mic on the left, EM272 mic on the right.

It is easy to see subtle differences, and the EM272 is clearly a bit more sensitive. Listening back, the EM272 recording has a 'fuller' sound as well - it just has an air of quality which the Zoom mic lacks.

Chiffchaff. Again, Zoom left, EM272 right.

Notice those high-frequency bits marked with the yellow arrow which the EM272 picks up but are missed by the Zoom. Again, the sensitivity differences are quite obvious.

In practice, the Zoom mic was fine really. Playing back the recordings and comparing them, yes, you could hear the subtle difference in quality, but to my ear the volume was pretty much identical. And obviously you could tell it was a Garden Warbler and Chiffchaff! Would the Zoom mic successfully have recorded the Grey Wag and Rock Pipit featured above? Definitely!

Incidentally, the horizontal aberrations on those comparison spectrograms never appear on recordings done in the field, and are no doubt a quirk of my phone's speaker or the Bird Guide recordings themselves.

So there we go. Just a quick 'first impressions' type review of the Zoom F1.

Someone on Bluesky asked what I use the recordings for. Good question. I would say that 99.99% of my recorded material is discarded, whether it is from the field or noc-mig. I save the occasional good bits, adding them to my little collection of bird recordings. Of course the main reason I record anything at all is in case a mega happens. My noc-mig recordings of Stone-curlew and Night Heron, for example, are as treasured as any photo.

African Bycatch

Bluesky is now a busy place. I had hoped it would become a useful resource of natural history news and information, and it has. Consequently I noticed this post a few days ago...

So, not a moth, but a rare damsel bug from hot places far, far away. The first British record came to a moth trap ten years ago at Porthgwarra, in the SW tip of Cornwall, and here was the second. I made a mental note.

Also on Bluesky is the enormously helpful Migrant Lepidoptera (GB & Ireland) account, where Steve Nash posts informative stuff like this...

To be honest, my zeal for mothing has been less intense this year, and the trap was already packed away for the winter. I am not on some grapevine of mothy mates, but Bluesky kept showing me posts like these...

This little cracker turned up just along the coast, at Weymouth.

More rare/scarce migrants, and even closer, at Abbotsbury!

Okay. Now I was hooked. The promise of North African air arriving in West Dorset yesterday evening soon saw the kit unpacked, the moth sheet and towel unfolded, and me outdoors in the dark and drizzle, full trap-monitoring mode engaged.

Pretty soon I spied a slender insect on the moth towel. Probably less than a centimetre long, its appearance rang a little bell, so I potted it. I took a rather naff in-the-pot photo and posted it on Bluesky with the obvious question. The response was quick: yes, that is indeed Nabis capsiformis, or Pale Damsel Bug. Wow! Without the heads-up provided by Bluesky I probably would not have given this rare little thing a second glance.

And then I spotted another one, on the garage fascia board. And then a third!

By bed-time, this...

Nabis capsiformis - five in pots, plus another in the trap.

And that was the final score: SIX Pale Damsel Bugs, a species which until last weekend had been recorded just once in Britain, a decade ago! Prior to last night I think the UK tally was up to about ten. Goodness knows how many it is now. Ones and twos appear to have graced several moth traps from Hampshire to Cornwall, and Chris Vincent caught five, but I've not yet heard of another catch of six or more.

Insect bycatch is part and parcel of moth trapping (and once a Common Sandpiper!) and certainly I've seen some interesting creatures in the last two years or so. But I wonder how much I overlook. The large and/or striking beasties I do tend to notice, but I'll bet all sorts of good stuff slips through the net because I am not savvy in this area. Without the education provided by Bluesky contributors, the world would have remained forever ignorant that the best place in the UK to see that sought-after rare migrant bug Nabis capsiformis on 29/11/2024 was a teeny-weeny garden in West Dorset. Possibly.

Anyway, yet again a random, bizarre creepy-crawly event makes my day. Love it!

Nabis capsiformis - Pale Damsel Bug

And a short video of it cleaning its antennae...

As well as the bugs, two definite migrant moths turned up as well. Not quite the rarity status of those featured in the Bluesky posts above, but excellent for here...

Small Mottled Willow - 2nd for the garden

Dark Sword-grass - not sure how many garden records so far, but probably fewer than five.

Not a migrant, but Varied Tortrix Acleris hastiana isn't a moth I've seen often.

Blair's Mocha. I doubt this is a migrant, but more likely from local stock. A really nice example too.

So that's it. An unforeseen night of moth-trapping, with an even more unforeseen outcome. The African air is still wafting this way, so the trap is out once again tonight. As I type, another Small Mottled Willow has turned up already. Nice.

Three Goals

A late-morning visit to West Bay today, with three main goals. One, find a Black Redstart; two, see if any Purple Sandpipers have turned up yet; three, test out my new field recorder.

1. Fail. None in the obvious places, but I'm sure I'll come across one here before the winter is out.

One of three Stonechats along the River Brit, West Bay.

2. Score! Two Purple Sands along the rock armour of the West Pier, a favourite spot...

A quick record shot when I first clapped eyes on them...

...and then they posed like this. Sublime.

Photographing birds is a funny old game. Initially the Purps were in almost constant motion, scuttling about and feeding. The typical nightmare-to-photograph scenario. Then a breaking wave had them both airborne, and for some reason they plonked down together on that lump of granite and just stood there. Initially they were back-on, but suddenly posed as shown in the photo. Perfect. Hoping the depth of field was sufficient to get both in focus, I popped off a burst. A shutter speed of 1/250 is nowhere near enough to guarantee hand-held sharpness at 1600mm zoom, but that's what f6.3 and ISO 720 gave me. Apart from the odd blinking eye, all ten shots in the burst look similar. Except that some are noticeably less sharp. This is the best. Three minutes and twenty seconds elapsed between my first photo and the last, but I bet I could have spent another hour with those birds and not had them sit together so nicely again.

3. Success. For a while I've been wondering about buying a recorder specifically for constant use while birding. My Zoom H4n Pro is a nice bit of kit for noc-mig, but feels like overkill for in-the-field use. I do find it rather bulky as well. I fancied something small and simple, into which I could plug my EM272 clippy lavalier mic. This seemed to fit the bill...

Zoom F1 Field Recorder.

So I slotted in a memory card, adjusted everything as needed - or so I thought - and fired it up. But I had accidentally left the record level at its default setting, which is 'Mid'. Spotting this error later, I proceeded to rectify things. However, it doesn't go from 'Mid' straight to 'Hi'. No, we have 'Mid+', then 'Hi-', then 'Hi'. Oh, and then we have 'Hi+'. Er...also 'Hi++'! So now I was wondering if I had managed to record anything audible at all. I need not have worried. A calling Oystercatcher had flown past more than 200m behind me earlier, heading east. A fairly scarce bird at West Bay. Out of sight too quickly to get a photo, but had the F1 caught it?

Yes...

Anyway, I've been out in the garden cabin this afternoon, running a little test to compare my EM272 clippy mic with the Zoom lavalier mic that comes with the recorder. Results anon, but my initial impression is that the supplied mic is perfectly adequate for field recording. You would still need to buy a decent hairy ('dead cat') windshield though. The Zoom mic just comes with three of the foam jobbies you see clipped to the lapel of TV personalities.

So that's two future NQS posts that I need to get my finger out for: Nikon P950 flight shot set-up, and Zoom F1 for constant recording. Watch this space.

But not too closely. At least go and have a beer or something meantime...

Not Annual

In a local birding context, 'not annual' is a label given to those usually desirable species that cannot be guaranteed every year, but in West Dorset and East Devon it is also true of snow. A decent covering seems always to do something bird-wise, so the last couple of days have been interesting...

We weren't supposed to get any snow, just rain and sleet. And first thing yesterday, that was exactly what we did get. I was at West Bay by 07:30, peering optimistically through a curtain of the stuff for anything that might be little, and an auk. But evidently I cannot tell optimism from foolhardiness. Half an hour later I was back home.

Fairly soon the sleet was coming in down in big, wet, floppy flakes. It was now snow. Just. I cannot really credit the snow for what happened next, except that I might not have been gazing through the conservatory window otherwise. A movement caught my eye. A male Blackcap, possibly the first I've seen actually in the garden. It was feeding on Honeysuckle berries in the little wildlife hedge I planted in the first 2020 lockdown. For an hour or more it was intermittently on view, and knowing it was there as a result of my labours pleased me greatly.

Cheers Gav, nice berries.

By lunchtime the snow had stopped, and Cogden beckoned. A walk on the beach was my plan, to look for flotsam that might be little, and an auk. The road was closed, so I had to walk from Burton Bradstock instead. Still, that gave me even more sea to fruitlessly scan...

Looking east from Cogden. Not much snow at beach level, though there was a proper covering on higher ground.

In the photo above, that snowy hill on the far left is called the Knoll. This is what it looked like close up...

Yep, that's snow.

It was a lovely afternoon, but there was little going on bird-wise. Mind you, I must have seen 25+ Song Thrushes, plus Blackbirds and a few Redwings, poking about in the soft ground of the lower fields with an air of mild urgency, as if it was all about to freeze solid any minute...

Song Thrush and a dusting of snow, just inland of the coast path.

Always good to see a few Redwings, which were typically shy.

Also notable was a Heron on the deck and three Chiffchaffs...

Most of my Heron sightings here are fly-overs.

One of three Chiffs.

Bird of the day was on the beach, and a gull...

There were several beautiful Med Gulls in a small flock at West Bex, but this one is wearing a colour ring - Red HFV6.

I've been woefully slack at reporting colour-ringed Med Gulls recently. I don't see many, and know I ought to make more effort, so pinged off an email last night. I was amazed to get a reply before breakfast this morning! Red HFV6 was ringed as a chick in Hungary ten years ago, and along with the usual history of subsequent sightings I was sent a link to a map of them all...

I'm pretty sure I haven't recorded a colour-ringed Med Gull from further east than this.

Look at where it's been! This is another reason I love gulls - they are such great travellers. With many species it strikes me that they can turn up almost anywhere. Two of the sightings - in 2015 and 2018 - were at Radipole Lake in Weymouth, with familiar observers' names attached to them. Birding is a small world really.

Despite a freezing night, and a lot of snow now hard and crispy on the higher ground, I had to work today. But lunchtime was earmarked for a visit to Colyton WTW to see if there were many Chiffs in residence yet, and if any of them might be pale and interesting. I'm hoping for a tristis or two this winter. I saw maybe 10+ Chiffs, but all regular colybita birds. The adjacent field was dotted with winter thrushes. Five species in all - Mistle and Song Thrush, Blackbird, Fieldfare and Redwing...

Mistle Thrush dwarfing the Redwings.

Fieldfare

Fieldfare and Redwings

As I said earlier, a decent covering of snow always seems to do something, and evidence was right there in that field - seven Golden Plovers among the thrushes. Pretty much the only time we see Golden Plovers in the Axe Valley fields is during snow and/or a serious freeze-up. Birds winter on nearby high ground, but will visit the valley in such conditions.

There is a very, very slim chance that a flock of Golden Plovers might hold something rarer, so a proper check is obligatory. I imagine it must be rather exciting to clap eyes on an American Golden Plover or wintering Dotterel in a flock of Goldies. It's never happened to me, but for the briefest of moments my pulse did skip a beat or two...

That bird on the left had me going for a second...

But today was not the day...

The pale-faced bird is now on the right, and just a common-or-garden Golden Plover.

Finally, this next Goldie had just heaved out a gargantuan earthworm. A real tug of war it was...

The muddy bill of battle.

Bluesky Thinking

Exactly eight months ago I wrote a post about joining Bluesky Social. Having dumped X (formerly Twitter) around seven months prior to that, I was hopeful that Bluesky might fill the consequent gap in my online reading material and put me in contact once again with like-minded fans of Nat. Hist. Well, initially it didn't really do that. It felt like I had stepped out of a heaving, sweaty, noisy pub and found myself in the quiet cool of a car park with a handful of others who couldn't abide the din. Bluesky was a pleasant relief, sure, but not very lively. It seemed that most of those whose input I had enjoyed on X/Twitter were still there. Okay, some might have a token Bluesky account but were barely active on it, if at all. Bluesky was nice, but quiet. And so it remained, for quite some time...

Still, at least I knew that a quick look at my Bluesky feed would be just that - quick. A couple of new posts to catch up with perhaps, maybe a handful. However, a little while ago it was like someone in the pub had let off a massive stink-bomb. As I type, the exodus is in full swing, and the car park is filling up fast.

For new arrivals, Bluesky must seem like Twitter of old. Well, it is and it isn't. Unlike X, Bluesky is not all about followers/following. Rather, curated 'feeds' are more where it's at. I have a number of feeds pinned to my home page. Yes, one of those is my 'Following' feed, where I see the output of accounts I follow, but others include 'Birding UK/IRE', 'Bioacoustics', 'Team Moth' etc, which offer thematic material from any who tag the relevant topic in their post. Most feeds offer a 'starter pack' of accounts to follow, putting you in touch rapidly with content that might interest you. As far as I can tell I am not in any starter packs, but even so my account is attracting new followers every single day right now.

Bluesky remains ad-free. I suspect many would be happy to pay a modest subscription to keep it that way. I certainly would. Meanwhile, to what extent will the current X-odus empty that place of birdy folk? I am fascinated to see. I'm probably being simplistic, but as an increasing number of familiar - and welcome - names pop up on Bluesky, I imagine the scene inside that old pub being less and less one of considered discussion and debate, but rather more and more one of belligerent ranting and noisily throwing up in the corner.

Catching up with Bluesky is no longer quick.

Fantastic Plastic

In 2010 a Brown Shrike lived on Staines Moor for a while. For some reason that I cannot recall, in December I happened to be nearby, so twitched it. This top-drawer rarity was just a stone's throw from a favourite haunt of my formative years - Staines Reservoirs. Naturally I called in, and from the causeway took this photo...

Ruddy Ducks at Staines Res, December 2010.

I've not seen a Ruddy Duck since that day. Once a familiar sight in West London and elsewhere, but no longer. I'm sure the odd Ruddy Duck pops up here and there, but I doubt there is much fanfare. After all, its life would be at stake. As I remember it, birders were divided as to the virtues of the generously funded campaign to locate and shoot every last Ruddy Duck, so I can imagine that some may be reluctant to publicise such a bird. As far as I can make out, the entire UK population of Ruddy Duck originated from a handful that were brought to this country from the USA in 1948 or thereabouts. In UK birding parlance the fence-hoppers and their offspring gave us yet another 'plastic' species to tick.

The British List is littered with plastic. Pheasant, Red-legged Partridge, almost every single Canada Goose, to name three of many.

Ironically it was a piece of fantastic plastic that kindled my latent birding urges way back when. Seeing a green parrot in the conifer outside my hall of residence window in early 1978 prompted me to make contact with Nick Green upstairs, whom I knew was a birdwatcher. And so it was that Ring-necked Parakeet was the unlikely catalyst to a life-long addiction.

As a keen lister back in the day, I was well aware that some plastic was fair game. Golden Pheasant for example. And Lady Amherst's Pheasant even more so. Not just plastic, that one, but rare plastic. I spent precious hours searching for both of those. Successfully I might add, for what it's worth. Also other, more subtle plastic. Little Owl, for example. In conversation with another local birder just the other day I found myself lamenting the recent demise of Little Owl in parts of East Devon. But honestly, it shouldn't even be here.

Probably all the Red Kites I happily enjoy each year are derived from plastic stock. And now we have even more spectacular raptors cruising the West Country skies, thanks to the White-tailed Eagle reintroduction scheme on the Isle of Wight. Still plastic though. There wasn't much I could do about the call from Mike Morse this morning, with news of a White-tailed Eagle over Cogden. I was at home, decorating. However, about 30 minutes later I could hear the local Herring Gulls alarm-calling, so popped outside to investigate. Just a Buzzard? No, not a Buzzard...

White-tailed Eagle heading W over Bridport.

And there it goes...

White-tailed Eagle is not even a garden tick. Frankly, I am ambivalent about these birds. Yes, they are magnificent creatures, obviously, and a pleasure to see. But there is part of me that wonders what it's all about. The White-tailed Eagles, Great Bustards, White Storks, Cranes, and so on...

Anyway, rather than drag out that particular soap-box, a couple of recent moths...

The garden's third Scarce Bordered Straw, a proper migrant.

This Grey Shoulder-knot was a first for the garden. Not uncommon though.

Finally, a little collage to illustrate why I always use a burst setting on the P950. All nine shots of the burst are depicted, and labelled. In the first frame the Goldcrest is not even facing the camera, and I can only assume that I pressed the shutter release because the bird was entirely visible rather than partially hidden by twigs etc, and that I hoped it would turn around. Which it did. Frame 5 turned out to be the winner...

All shots except no.5 are full frame.