Learning a New Language

Moth-wise the last three nights have been relatively quiet, yet still the new ones come. And, typically, of four new species for the garden, three are micro-moths. I do like micros. When I first started moth trapping a year ago, they were such a daunting prospect. Too small, too many, too similar was my initial impression. But that is not always true. And besides, through a lens even the little ones are frequently transformed into something rather amazing. So I made an effort.

However, learning the micros is made even more challenging than it already is, on account of their names. For someone whose natural history interests have rarely required learning scientific names, the tsunami of micro-moth nomenclature was a bit overwhelming. Clearly it was a plot by lepidopteral elitists to prevent the hoi polloi from getting above themselves. I struggled on for a couple of months, then kicked off a bit. The resultant NQS post makes me chuckle now. Although it was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, it reads like someone chucking their toys out of the pram. Anyway, I'm well over it now, and have found that learning the scientific names is just another element of the challenge. And it's almost fun. Almost.

I just hope I never have to say them in public though, because my pronunciation of many will be dubious, to say the least.

Saturday night, 1st July

54 moths of 34 species. For the first time in ages, none new for year or garden.

I must admit, from wing shape alone I wondered if this was a Currant Pug, but in the end have gone for Wormwood Pug. Hopefully that's indeed what it is.

Sunday night, 2nd July

52 moths of 27 species; five of which new for year, and three new for garden.

Took me a while to suss the ID of this one. Seems to be a rather variable species, and to my eye this individual doesn't look a lot like any of the three versions in 'Manley'. Wonder if I had as much trouble with the single specimen we caught last year?

New for the garden. There are no Bridport area records of this species on Living Record, so probably a good 'un. There isn't much Heather around here either.

I was dead chuffed to catch a new Plume moth for the garden. This one is very small too, with just 17mm wingspan.

Monday night, 3rd July

73 moths of 35 species; four new for year, one new for garden.

The highlight of last night's trap was sitting on the uppermost egg tray. I recognised it instantly, which might seem odd for such an unspectacular moth. But Small Mottled Willow is a migrant which features quite regularly on Twitter, and I have seen umpteen pics of it in characteristic rolled-up resting pose. I was half-expecting one last year but it never came, despite 2022 being an excellent year for migrants. So it's been on my radar. Still, we're hardly inundated with migrants right now, so it was a very nice surprise...

Small Mottled Willow. In fully relaxed mode it is more rolled-up than this. As specimens go, this one seems quite poorly marked.

On Living Record, Small Mottled Willow appears to be on a par with Bordered Straw in the Bridport area, with nine or ten records of each. Mind you, we caught Bordered Straw four times in 2022!

Small Blood-vein is a regular visitor, but rarely as fresh as this one.

First Drinker of the year. Spectacular things, like a tiny Hedgehog.

The 2023 garden tally now stands at 324, including aggregates. I am seriously beginning to wonder if 500 in a year might be possible here...