Not Quite Scilly: Honestly, I'm Fine. Fine.

An eventful weekend coming up. First, I am guiding on the Seaton Birdwatching Tram tomorrow evening. I mention this for a reason, because one or two birding friends have expressed what I can only interpret as...well...concern.

Skimming through recent NQS output, yes, there are some moth posts. But I cannot see any reason why a mere two solid months of neat, undiluted lepidopteral content would suggest I might have strayed from the righteous path. Of course I am still a mad-keen birder. I mean, yesterday morning it took me no more than ten minutes to remember where my scope was, and even less to chip off the encrustation of spring seawatching salt. And at the crack of mid-morning I was peering out from the West Bay shelter, counting Gannets like the pro that I am.

Fifty-eight, there were.

I managed to keep my eyes open for almost an hour, noting 17 Common Scoters, three Common Terns and an unseasonal Great Crested Grebe. The highlight was a flock of 21 Shelduck east, quite probably the biggest I've ever seen on a seawatch.

And yes, my optics still worked okay, and I could still remember what most of the birds were called. And yes, I am all set for tomorrow!

This made me laugh out loud! Yep, come along if you can, and I shall do my best to point out all the moths we see along the way. Tsk! Birds. I mean birds.

But anyway, now that moths have naturally come up...

Tuesday night, July 25th

A clear, chilly night. Catch-wise, the worst for ages. Just 37, of 21 species. The only new moth for the year was nectaring from the garden buddleia during the afternoon. I took loads of photos, but none are worth posting. Still, everyone knows what a Hummingbird Hawk-moth looks like.

Lychnis - the second this year.

First recorded in the UK in 2003, in Devon. Our third this year.

Wednesday night, July 26th

I nearly didn't bother. Loads of rain during the afternoon and evening, and the promise of more that night. It didn't look good. Around 22:30 the deluge had eased to 'heavy drizzle', so I chanced it. The return was just 54 moths of 28 species, but included a couple of classy 'new for year'...

New for year, the very lovely Sallow Kitten. We had a handful in 2022. Usually photographed in profile like this, but...

...looks just as gorgeous from above.

A surprise migrant, this is Dark Sword-grass. It was miles smaller than the very few others we've had.

Another Blair's Mocha, and the most nicely-marked so far.

Another Red Twin-spot Carpet, and much smarter than the last one.

Swallow Prominent #2 for 2023.

A nice, fresh Maple Pug, our first this year. Recorded in the trap six times last year. This compares to a total of just five records (three locations) elsewhere in the Bridport area, according to Living Record. Pugs seem to like our garden.

Thursday night, July 27th

Last night was in a different league! 177 moths of 74 species is a superb return for here, which I put down to the sublime weather: overcast, mild, and quite still. Most were familiar faces though, with just two species new for year, and one new for garden.

Nutmeg. One last year, one this. Not common locally.

Potted on the cabin wall, our 13th Blair's Mocha of the year. Catching moths in this sort of state, I always wonder what the story is. Bird? Bat? Whatever, probably a fortunate escape.

A very nice Small Fan-footed Wave. We get a lot of these.

Cloaked Minor, our 5th this year.

We've had two of these now, and there are <10 West Dorset records on the Living Record map, so I guess we've got something they like. However, I found this one in the garage, where we keep no straw, chaff or...er...sheep.