A Million Shades of Brown

Tuesday night was wet, windy and weirdly warm. Weather maps suggested the blow originated far to the south, so obviously I fantasised about the vagrant moths to come. Not to me probably, but, well...hopeless optimism is a mostly harmless vice.

The day dawned dry and fairly calm. Barred Sallow was an expected new moth for the garden - there were three - but otherwise it was the same old, same old. Shaking the inevitable handful of Lunar Underwings off an egg tray I gave it a quick glance before stacking with the others. Hello...what's this? A tiny sliver of sandy-coloured micro was still attached, crouched in a hollow. Hmm...looks interesting. A quick photo, then pot. Surprise, surprise, it was an Olive Spinner Zelleria oleastrella, a scarce migrant. There are just four previous Devon records. Funny how things go - I had very nearly shaken it off into the garden. Thank goodness it had a strong grip!

Olive Spinner Zelleria oleastrella. 4 previous Devon records: 2021, 2023 and 2025 x2.

In four years of garden mothing I have become increasingly convinced that it would be difficult to name an activity more serendipitous. Luck, chance, fluke - call it what you will - seems to me the name of the game. All you have to do is buy a trap, stick it outside, switch it on, then wait and see what it brings. It's like unwrapping presents every morning!

Back to Lunar Underwings. For some reason we are getting loads of them. Friday night brought 77. In a bid to eliminate the possibility that each night's total is somewhat cumulative because moths from previous catches are still nearby and being caught again, I released most of that 77 far, far away. Last night was cold and clear, and very few moths were in the trap by bedtime. I was convinced that this morning's tally would be much smaller. Well, it wasn't. There were 85! Still, that's a long way from the biggest count. The night of 21st September brought 234 of the things! Meanwhile, I have been patiently picking through them all in a quest to add Beaded Chestnut to the garden list, a very similar moth. Finally, on Friday night it came. And in the event, it stood out like a sore thumb. Having already checked 1,019 Lunar Underwings this autumn, I guess I had my eye in...

Beaded Chestnut (left) and Lunar Underwing

And last night, another...

Beaded Chestnut #2 for the garden (top) in an egg tray this morning with an identically-coloured Lunar Underwing.

I visited the Devon Moths website to see what kind of numbers are typically reported for Lunar Underwing. Well, unsurprisingly double-figure counts are common, but I checked the last three years and failed to find any three-figure counts. In addition to 234, we've also tallied 215 and 154. So, why does our little 40W actinic attract so many here in Axminster? Is our population of Lunar Underwings exceptionally large for some reason?  What's so special about this location?

Another moth which we have encountered quite often is a striking micro called Carnation Tortrix. I say 'striking' but at first glance it is just a small, chestnut-coloured job with subtle markings. However, in flight it reveals bright orange hindwings...

Carnation Tortrix Cacoecimorpha pronubana on the lid of our trap, showing a hint of its bright orange hindwing.

The Devon Moths website lists 123 records of this species. Mostly there are less than 10 a year. So why have we had 27 records in our garden since May? What's so special about this location?

Events like the two above convince me that virtually anywhere might potentially be good for moths. Not all moths of course, but likely there will be a relative abundance of something unexpected. Serendipity again.

This morning I peered out of the kitchen window - as mentioned earlier I was expecting a meagre catch - and spotted a single moth on the the lid of our bucket trap. I could see it wasn't a Lunar Underwing and in fact looked interesting. It turned out to be a Scarce Bordered Straw. A common enough migrant, but only our second here. Opening the trap revealed more moths than anticipated. On one of the lower trays, tucked in with the ubiquitous Lunar Underwings was a moth I thought I recognised from Bridport, where we trapped two in 2023 I think. Sure enough, it was a Feathered Brindle...

Feathered Brindle, a beautifully-marked moth.

I recalled that Feathered Brindle was a fairly scarce moth nationally-speaking, and a coastal specialist, but had no idea of the situation in Devon. Once again the Devon Moths website provided the gen...

Distribution of Feathered Brindle records in Devon. From the Devon Moths website.

There are 89 records up to the end of last year, but the vast majority are clustered in South Devon. East Devon, where I live (in the eastern-most full 10km square) hasn't recorded a Feathered Brindle since 1976. Fifty years! Once again...serendipity.

The Scarce Bordered Straw I first saw through the kitchen window this morning; #2 for the garden.

Pristine Turnip Moth from Wednesday night.

Small Mottled Willow. Another beautifully-marked brown thing. Still coming...

Barred Sallow. Bucking the brown-ness for a moment.

Last weekend we were babysitting - and running the trap - in Lyme Regis. Since our - and its - return to Axminster on Sunday evening, the moths have delivered interest in spades. Conditions have mostly felt less than ideal, yet we've had a couple of really nice scarcities, and what for us feel like decent numbers too. Long may it continue...

Autumn

Autumn is a flexible thing. Astronomically, autumn begins shortly after midnight tonight, though meteorologically it's been in full swing since September 1st. Birders have been enjoying so-called autumn passage - or a lack of it - since...well...probably late July. So, take your pick. One thing is certain though: it is exactly one year to the day that we moved into this house in Axminster, and September 22nd in 2025 was actually autumn in every sense. I was a bit preoccupied with other stuff last year, so there wasn't much birding, and moths didn't really get a look-in until mid/late October. 2026 has been very different, especially on the moth front. So, this post aims to address at least a small part of the significant backlog of NQS material taking up space on the laptop, with special emphasis on autumn...in its most flexible sense.

Bird of the Autumn

No contest here. Red-necked Phalarope is a Devon rarity, and a species I haven't seen since an autumn juvenile at Stockers Lake, Herts in August 1995. At the time I lived just ten minutes walk away from Stockers, but Blackhole Marsh on the Seaton Wetlands is about five miles from home. Even so, I was down there like a shot, within just...er...nine hours of the initial report. Well worth the rush...

Juvenile Red-necked Phalarope on Blackhole Marsh, 24th August.

A proper little character. My first Red-necked Phalarope was a breeding-plumage female on the north basin of Staines Res in June 1983. There haven't been many others in the interim, and I expect this one will have to last me a while too.

The 'smart wader' theme was reprised a fortnight later...

Juvenile Pectoral Sandpiper, again at Blackhole Marsh, Seaton

I've taken the opportunity to have a mooch around Cogden once or twice when I've been over that way, and bagged a few Redstarts, Whinchats, Tree Pipits and whatnot, but my heart isn't really in the birding at the moment. There's no denying that Seaton Wetlands is doing the do just now, but mostly I am put off by its popularity and the consequent numbers of people.

A few more bird pics before the moths muscle in...

After a trip to the Seaton Tesco one day in late August I stopped by the estuary to check the gulls. Steve was already there, doing just that, and had turned up two Casps!

Casp 1 - a nice juv.

Before I'd finished with Casp 1, the whole lot flew, flushed by an Osprey. It looked like my unbroken record of at least a record shot of every Caspian Gull I've ever seen was doomed. However, not so...

As Casp 1 takes to the air, Casp 2 is just coming into shot from the right. Complete fluke!

Casp 2 was a 2cy bird with interesting bleaching or leucism on some flight feathers. The back end of Casp 1 exits stage left.

I'm pretty sure I've never seen an autumn Caspian Gull before September, but this was August 29th. The Osprey responsible for their departure circled overhead briefly...

Comfortably the best Osprey pic I've ever managed.

Late-August Spotted Flycatcher at Cogden

August 25th. Cogden looking very, very dry and crispy.

Moths

Because I've been keeping a spreadsheet I can tell you that our little bucket trap has pulled in upwards of 11,250 moths so far this year. Among that lot was a first for Devon - Langmaid's Yellow Underwing - as featured in the previous post. The Langmaid's tally is now three, with two more added on August 19th. In the month or so since then the trap's contents have taken on an increasingly autumnal flavour. One species that I associate with autumn proper is Lunar Underwing. It was very much a September moth back in Bridport, with up to 69 at a time in a night's catch. I didn't have to wait until September to catch one here...

August 22nd, and Lunar Underwing makes an entrance.

I had no idea what was coming. Last night's catch included 234 Lunar Underwings! Have they peaked, I wonder?!

Anyway, mostly the moth jollies have been about the migrants and the scarcities, and the many and various beauties...

Four-spot Dot Bohemannia quadrimaculella. 11 Devon records to the end of 2025. We've had two now, this one on August 4th

Four-spot Dot up close - 3.5mm of iridescent beauty.

Saltmarsh Knot-horn Ancylosis oblitella. A presumed migrant in Devon, with 13 records up to the end of 2025. This was our first, on August 3rd. We've had four now!

Twin-spot Plume Stenoptilia bipunctidactyla, our 2nd of three. Just ten Devon records up to the end of 2025. 

Marbled Yellow Pearl Evergestis extimalis. A new moth for me. With only 28 Devon records up to the end of 2025, and almost all along the S coast, I'm guessing a probable migrant.

Narrow-winged Pug. 1300+ Devon records, but a new moth for me.

A bit battered, but this is the 2nd of three Mugwort Pearls Loxostege sticticalis so far. There are just eight Devon records of this scarce migrant prior to 2026, but I suspect that number is about to grow significantly!

Our first Mugwort Pearl, a nice fresh one, on July 18th.

Horse-chestnut Leaf-miner Cameraria ohridella. Dead common, but packs a lot into 4mm.

Beautiful Carpet, trapped August 17th. 520+ Devon records, but a new moth for me.

A rather dull Rosy Knot-horn Oncocera semirubella, trapped August 25th. Only 120-odd Devon records, and a good one to get in the garden.

The garden's first Vetch Moth Aproerema anthyllidella. Just over 100 Devon records, and we've had five now.

The most recent of seven garden Ni Moths, trapped on August 27th. Just 61 Devon records of this scarce migrant up to the end of 2025. I think that number will be obliterated by the end of 2026.

The garden's first Scarce Bordered Straw, trapped September 12th. With 870+ Devon records, it's a moth I'd expect to see more often, but don't.

Dewick's Plusia. An absolute stunner, we've had three now, including two together last night. 67 Devon records up to the end of 2025.

Bordered Straw. With 530+ Devon records it would make sense if we saw this species less frequently than Scarce Bordered Straw (870+ records) but this is our 8th (cf 1 SBS)

Black Rhomboid Grey Hypatima rhomboidella. 215 Devon records, and this is our first.

With 2,250+ Devon records, the regular migrant Turnip Moth is another we'd expect to see quite regularly, yet this is only our 2nd.

A totally unexpected catch a few nights ago, two Heath Rustics arrived from who knows where? A Heather feeder, there are just 215 Devon records, which isn't loads for a macro. A real looker, so I'm definitely not complaining!

A nicely-marked Pearly Underwing, the garden's third record of this regular migrant.

I thought it would be nice to close with this absolutely stunning Vestal, possibly the pinkest version I've seen. There are 2,150+ Devon records up to the end of 2025, so it's a pretty common migrant really. We've had 14 so far this year, including three together twice.

Too Little Time

Where does the time go? That's a rhetorical question of course. I know where time goes. It dribbles through the wasp-waist of our personal sandglass, and away...

But while I still have some left, there are so many things I want to cram into it. Unfortunately there is a catch. Here's a pre-retirement cliché you have either heard, are hearing or will hear many times, depending upon your present age/employment status:

'You'll wonder how you ever had time for work!'

How true. I am unexpectedly and ridiculously busy. Which is bad news for a perennial multi-hobbyist. Some of the activities which were anticipating a bit of limelight have had to remain in the wings. Sorry, birding. Apologies, fishing. Cameo roles only for you two just now. Mothing is still centre stage, right in the middle of what is proving to be a lengthy monologue.

I wish I had got into moths when I was still young enough to have plenty of room in my brain for new stuff. I definitely missed a trick, because it's not as if the younger me was unaware of their existence or potential to fascinate. In the late 1980's I bought Skinner's Moths of the British Isles in order to identify moths attracted by the porch light of our new home in Rickmansworth, Herts. The light had a sensor which switched the lamp on at dusk and off at first light, and invariably there would be a moth or three on the wall nearby. Our list slowly grew, and includes a few species I haven't seen since those days. Mind you, it also includes a few I don't trust either! Some species are dated, but I suspect these indicate subsequent occurrences rather than first records. Still, the earliest noted date is April 1989 (Angle Shades) at which point I was still in my 20's. Just.

The 1985 edition of Skinner, with the original Moth List, mostly in Sandra's fair hand.

Imagine if I'd properly got into moths at that time. My head would now be stuffed with 37 years' worth of moth knowledge. I would be a moth bore extraordinaire, instead of the wannabe tyro-bore that I am.

But I didn't. So I'm just a beginner, and feel like one too.

However, the nice thing about mothing is that absolutely anyone can catch exciting moths. Even beginners. Even this beginner...

Last week I caught a First for Devon. And not some obscure, teeny micro with an unpronounceable scientific name and much-scorned vernacular. No. An actual macro. And here it is...

A rather worn and knackered Langmaid's Yellow Underwing. The central image shows the upperside of its hindwing, basically a yellow blob in the middle of a black wing. On the right is the the same hindwing of its confusion species, a Lesser Broad-bordered Yellow Underwing, very common both in Devon and elsewhere. A lot less black on LBBYU, and the outer area is isolated as a band, rather than continuing as a border around the whole wing.

To be frank, catching the Langmaid's Yellow Underwing was nice, but most of the high-octane moth jollies come from the rare, the scarce and the beautiful. And there have been plenty of all three. This year has been a blast so far...

Convolvulus Hawk-moth

Fireworks and Subtlety

As things stand right now, I am pretty much captive to the World of Moth. And I know exactly why they have beguiled me so. Because when it comes to the artful trickery of seduction, moths have everything. They have charm and beauty, rarity and surprise; they have endless variety; moths can put on a show, be it a dazzling spectacle or brain-teasing challenge. They have it all, from fireworks to subtlety.

Last week a couple of Privet Hawk-moths paid a visit. Knowing that some friends were coming round later, I popped one of the Privet Hawks into the fridge in a large plastic box lined with folded kitchen roll. When our friends arrived I duly trotted out the party-piece. Obviously it was at rest, all folded up. Colour-wise just brown and cream, nothing special, but still it looked enormous. Our friends were certainly impressed and made appropriate noises. None had ever seen a Privet Hawk-moth before. When the moth had warmed up a bit I gave it a gentle prod. Both wings unfolded like blades, revealing the bright pink stripes on the hindwings and around the abdomen. It was as if I had set off a Roman candle. Suddenly there were 'oohs' and 'ahhs', and out came the phone cameras.

'Yes,' I thought, 'That's exactly the affect it has on me too.'

Fireworks. Some moths are just jaw-droppingly awesome.

A couple of examples...

If Elephant Hawk-moth was a rare migrant, we would be wetting ourselves upon finding one of these in the trap. What a stunningly beautiful creature!

Lilac Beauty. Just wow!

The night of June 1st was very wet, and I didn't expect to see many moths next morning. Nevertheless, while checking the wall behind the trap I noticed a dead leaf hanging on the moth sheet, right next to my leg...

Dead leaf

We only ever caught a single Lilac Beauty in Bridport. It wasn't exactly mint, but I remember being super-impressed. However, this one was immaculate. What a stunning moth! So many features to drool over: the pink squiggles on the leading edge; the astonishing crinkled forewings; the black dots on the hindwings that look exactly like perforations, but aren't. How could such a strange-looking moth be so aesthetically pleasing? A total joy! I have spent more time than is healthy studying that first photo.

And so, to subtlety...

My biggest 'fear' in mothing is that I might inadvertently chuck away a really good moth because it looks very similar to a common species. I realised this possibility early on, so have striven to at least be aware of a few of those tricky look-alikes. Recently, Wood Carpet has been on my radar. It was quite a scarce moth in Dorset, with I think just ten records in the last four years, so I never expected it in Bridport. In Devon it is less scarce, with 40 records in 2025 alone. So, maybe...

Yesterday morning I spotted a Common Carpet on the fence by the porch light. Even my puffy, early-morning eyes could see that its main white cross-band looked rather bright and clean. I potted it ve-e-ery carefully...

Wood Carpet, new for me. A good record and nice addition to the Axminster garden list.

Even more pleasing than Wood Carpet was a tricky pug moth that came my way on May 30th. Again it was the porch light what done the deed, when I potted a small pug off the adjacent wall late at night. In the light of my head-torch I could detect a hint of green, but there were little alarm bells jingling...

It was Luke Phillips, back in Bridport, who first put Sloe Pug on my radar when he trapped one on the other side of town two or three years back. Sloe Pug was pretty scarce in Dorset, but even more so in Devon, with just 30 records up to the end of last year, and in fact none at all in 2025. Identification is tricky enough anyway, but this moth was rather worn too. One feature to look for is a salmon-pink waist band on the upper abdomen. I thought I could make something out with a hand-lens, plus the post-median line didn't have the obvious zigzag kink near the costa (leading edge of the forewing) that Green Pug does. Thankfully, in better light the next morning it was all pretty clear...

Sloe Pug, with its salmon-pink cummerbund.

Definitely one of my most pleasing bits of moth identification, and a great example of why it's worth learning a few of the less common look-alikes that might come your way. That same night I caught a Green Pug of almost exactly the same size as the Sloe Pug, so here is a little composite pic...

Sloe Pug (top) and Green Pug.

I could go on all night, but that's enough for one post.

Fireworks and subtlety. Gotta love moths.