Pastures New

This blog is generally a fair reflection of where my current interests lie, and for quite a while now the content has mostly been more mothy, less birdy. Partly that's because the moth thing is still a voyage of discovery, a captivating novelty. Birds, not so much. But there are other factors. Increasingly I seek solitude when birding. These days it's probably more important than what birds I see. In fact, if I lived as close to the East Yorkshire coast, I strongly suspect I would almost never visit Spurn or Flamborough but instead try to find some quiet, neglected, underwatched location (if such exists) and not care a jot that it had barely a fraction of the potential of either. Consequently the very excellent, very birdy Seaton Wetlands just down the road no longer stir my juices really. Just too busy. Cogden was perfect, but now too far away to be more than an occasional indulgence. The countryside within walking distance of home is okay, but it isn't coast. I need a bit of coast.

Anyway, the other day a post on Bluesky piqued my interest. It featured some vis-mig results, and a tantalising pic of a Hawfinch in a bush. The location was Stonebarrow Hill in West Dorset, just east of Charmouth. Almost a mile further from home than Seaton Wetlands, but closer than Beer Head.

In 24 years here I have visited Stonebarrow on no more than maybe four occasions, and walked the nearby coast path just once, but never with birding in mind. Why the neglect? I can't explain it. Like Cogden, Stonebarrow is National Trust land, and parking is free for members. So, last Tuesday I gave it a go...

"Hello Stonebarrow..."

I arrived shortly after first light. It was freezing. In the keen north-easterly I was pitifully underdressed. Vis-migging suddenly became very unattractive, and I went for a wander instead. Waves of Woodpigs and Stock Doves passed overhead, and clearly there were winter thrushes in, with plenty of furtive shuffling in sheltered spots. The nature and extent of the habitat was a revelation. Potential with a capital P. Finally I found the coast path, and from the base of a sheltered, sun-kissed hedge flushed a Woodcock. Brief views, but beautifully lit. A Stonebarrow welcome.

The Woodcock came up from just on the right there. In the background: Lyme Regis and the start of the Undercliff National Nature Reserve.

Since that morning I have been back twice, with the intention simply to explore. Well, I am smitten. It's a big area, with a network of footpaths. Sunday was calm, sunny, T-shirt weather, and in several hours I bumped into surprisingly few other people. The habitat looks brilliant. There is way too much really, but when it comprises big, blousy hedgerows, sallow-stuffed stream valleys, scrubby undercliff and what looks suspiciously like relatively unimproved grassland, I'm quite happy to be overwhelmed. There are sea views of course, though no obvious access to the beach below. And there are birds.

Last Friday afternoon I worked some of that habitat fairly carefully and found nine Firecrests. I'm pretty sure that's the most I've ever seen in a day. In one productive spot were five together! A calling Marsh Tit was an unexpected bonus...

First Firecrest.

I could not have asked for a more classic pose.

Same Firecrest as previous shot, and this image within same burst of ten!

Calling Marsh Tit.

Another spot, another Firecrest.

In Sunday's sunshine I made another search for Firecrests, and found 15! Apart from a single in the previous 5-Firecrest spot, all new locations too, and mostly I was covering different areas to those worked on Friday. A Chiffchaff and six Goldcrests were good to see also. And there were butterflies: seven Clouded Yellows (including a helice female) and three Red Admirals...

A few knapweed flowers still glowing in the grass.

Clouded Yellow in bracken.

Clouded Yellow on hawkbit(?)

Red Admiral.

Firecrest in the sunshine. I think Friday's overcast light was more flattering.

Clouded Yellow - helice female with mainly white upperwings

Firecrest in shady hedge.

A couple of scenic shots to close...

A little stream valley. Viewing inland from the seaward end, with Stonebarrow and Chardown Hills in the distance. The hills make a lovely ridge that I should imagine must be irresistible to coasting raptors.

Looking W along the coast at close of play last Friday.

Three visits to Stonebarrow have given me the biggest birdy kick I've experienced in a long time. The habitat looks tailor-made for Redstarts and flycatchers, and if so-called common migrants can still be bothered to pitch up on the South Coast next spring, I look forward to some fun. In the meantime, I'm sure a few welly-clad winter visits are likely...

Half Past October

Following other birders on social media is something of a nostalgia trip at this time of year. My feeds are peppered with mentions of Shetland and Scilly, and rare birds that I once would have lusted after. I vaguely recall that feeling, that desire, like the whisper of a previous life. A life which, to be fair, gave me many fond memories. There are sometimes crowd photos from the latest twitch, or WhatsApp updates on the current queuing situation at the Porth Hellick Sora. Once upon a time I would have been in that crowd, right in the thick of it, and yes, coincidentally I did once queue for a Porth Hellick Sora.

Ah, it all seems so long ago.

My desire these days is to be as far from such scenarios as possible. Which is no problem at all in this part of the world. Yesterday afternoon I spent a couple of hours plodding around Cogden. Obviously there were no other birders. Barely any people at all, in fact. I do miss Cogden. The space, the habitat, the relative freedom to roam, the solitude...it is a magical mix that I am struggling to find in East Devon. So the occasional jaunt out there feels like necessary medicine right now, just to keep the birdy juices flowing still. And yesterday there were a few rewards.

In the Forbidden Field I came across a trio of Stonechats feeding in the rank, weedy vegetation. While they all flitted about and perched up jauntily in typical Stonechat fashion, there was another bird in their company, keeping low and furtive. I knew what it was, even before I saw it properly...

Rubbish record shot of a Dartford Warbler.

It soon moved to the gorse bank at the top of the field and was gone. And then I spied another Dartford Warbler. Closer, and clearly an adult male...

Male Dartford Warbler in the afternoon sunshine.

Apart from a heard-only Golden Plover and a handful of Chiffs, there seemed to be little else on offer. However, Cogden was not quite done yet...

Firecrest. Standard October fare, and very welcome.

Also of note were a couple of lepidopteral offerings...

One of a number of Clouded Yellows seen, this is a helice female.

It's always a buzz to kick a nice migrant moth out of the grass, like this slightly beaten-up Vestal.

Mention of a moth allows me to segue nicely into part 2 of this post...

The Magic Lantern

This is the Magic Lantern...

...otherwise known as the 20W actinic porch light

Even at the peak of mothy activity and abundance on a warm summer's night I reckon this light might attract no more than single figures of moths, even when checked regularly. However, when it comes to quality rather than quantity, it has more than pulled its weight! For example, my first Sloe Pug on May 30th - a very decent catch, with just 30 previous records in Devon. Also, on July 18th, the first of three Mugwort Pearls Loxostege sticticalis to the garden. A scarce migrant, with only eight previous county records. And again, in October the Magic Lantern has gone and bagged a biggie...

Golden Twin-spot to the Magic Lantern on 9th October. One of my most-wanted migrant moths. It may be a bit battered, but with only six Devon records up to the end of 2025, proper quality.

Slightly more intact on this side, and here its golden scales are just about catching what sunlight there was that day.

And the Magic Lantern had a slightly different kind of trick up its sleeve at the beginning of the month. Around 21:50 on October 4th...

Elephant Hawk-moth. The last time I saw one in the garden was on 24th July. The latest Devon record is listed as 21st September 2018. So this is the new latest county record by almost a fortnight! Well done, Magic Lantern!

And the main garden trap hasn't done too badly this month. At this point in the year I can't really expect more than a few autumn specials and maybe a nice migrant or two, and that's pretty much how it's been...

Small Mottled Willow. Still coming in ones and twos. The year's tally now stands at a completely ridiculous 395! 

The very awesome Black Rustic. More than 30 now.

Sallow is a common enough moth in Devon (c.1500 records) and we've had two different ones so far. Only ever saw it once in Bridport I think.

Green-brindled Crescent is a stunning autumn moth, with its glittery sprinkles. Just one so far this year. Already on the garden list from last autumn...

...but such a glorious moth is definitely worth two pics.

First Large Wainscot for the garden.

The most recent of 39 garden Vestals this year.

First Red-green Carpet for the garden, and a pristine one at that.

Deux Merveilles du Jour. So pleased we are seeing this beautiful moth in ones and twos. Subtly different in shade and patterning.

A trio of presumed migrants. From top: Ni Moth, Dewick's Plusia and Silver Y. The latter is dead common of course, but the first two have amassed just 61 and 67 Devon records respectively. Each of these is #8 for the garden, and I suspect that will be just the tip of a county-wide iceberg this year.

Finally, Olive-tree Pearl. One of my favourite migrants, principally because of its super-clean lines and translucent perfection. Not rare, with some 900+ Devon records up to the end of 2025, but 15 in the garden so far this year is way more than I would have expected.

So there we are, at the mid-point of meteorological autumn. The moth catches are bound to dwindle, but still there is potential for a nice surprise or two. The overall garden list stands at 492, and the 2026 tally at 482. Realistically I think 500 for either is out of reach before the end of the year, but numbers are not why I do it. Moths are just brilliant!

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...