Nationally Scarce B

There has been no let-up in mothy prizes since the previous post, with three more species new for the garden among 12 new for the year. Sunday night was pretty decent, but last night was in a different league...

Sunday night

The stand-out for me was an Eyed Hawk-moth, our second. Unfortunately it started warming up rapidly from the moment I opened the trap, and was very soon ready for take-off. I didn't want it battering itself to bits in a box, so let it go with no pics. It was one of six species new for the year. Other highlights...

Clouded-bordered Brindle. Second for the garden, after one at this time last year.

The Miller. Had a few of these in 2022.

Very similar to Gypsonoma dealbana, a moth we've had before. This species is seemingly less common in Dorset, and can be separated by its obvious white 'forehead'. A garden first.

Monday night

In any moth field guide you will notice how each species is given a status, such as 'common, 'local', 'migrant' etc. It seem these labels are not assigned according to whatever the author(s) think might be appropriate, rather they are official designations assigned by the Joint Nature Conservation Committee, which oversees such things within the UK. One status designation is 'Nb', which stands for 'Nationally Scarce B', and tells the reader that the species has been recorded in 31-100 10km squares (hectads) since 1980. Considering the UK apparently comprises more than 2,800 hectads, that's not many. I've been fortunate to catch a small number of 'Nb' moths here, and added another last night. A particularly smart one too.

Almost exactly a year ago, I was invited to join in a moth-trap emptying session at Mapperton Wildlands, a few miles up the road. Among the mind-blowing 163 species were five that are nationally scarce. I photographed two of them, including this one...

Cloaked Carpet. Of course, a pot shot doesn't do it justice.

For some reason I was ever so impressed by this particular moth, and it stuck in my brain. Though I realised it was highly unlikely ever to turn up in our garden, I mentally tucked away that search image. And literally two days later, I briefly thought the unthinkable had happened...

Close, but no cigar. Still our only Sharp-angled Carpet, which sits right next to Cloaked Carpet in the field guide

Sharp-angled Carpet is the obvious confusion species but, in Manley's British & Irish Moths, it says this about Cloaked Carpet:

'Striking shades of green aid ID. In humid, mossy woods, wooded stream beds, sunken lanes with high banks.'

All of which helps conjure an image of an almost mossy moth.

Which basically it is...

Cloaked Carpet. What an absolute belter! A moth that looks like it spends its life on the north side of tree trunks. I hope the photo does it justice.

And, as if that weren't sufficient, there were several more stunning beauties to enjoy...

Peppered Moth. Not the first this year, but this one behaved nicely for the camera.

Scorched Wing. Terrific name for a terrific moth. The garden's second.

Continuing the 'overheated' theme, this is Scorched Carpet. Another that we've only seen once previously.

White Satin Moth. The garden's first. Soft, shiny fluffball. Not at all common locally.

Our second Poplar Hawk-moth of the year.

Among last night's micros was one of those tiny tripod moths that I like so much. I know we caught one of this species last year, but there is no photo. After ages trying to get this one to behave, I understand why not. Here is the best I could manage...

Quite an easy one to ID, but almost impossible to photograph!

And finally, one of those frustrating little moths where there are countless species that look identical...

Coleophora sp. Characterful little things, but I believe plain ones like this are unidentifiable without surgery.

'Cloaked Carpet in habitat' shot. Though admittedly not a humid, mossy wood, wooded stream bed, or sunken lane with high banks.

It's been hot all day, and I see no reason why the moth trap will be any less entertaining tonight. More sleep deprivation...

Two Busy Nights

Mothing has shifted up a gear. There's been a notable increase in numbers and variety since the last post, with 34 new for the year and seven new for the garden. Also, Friday night saw the first wave of a small invasion. Little green moths have arrived en masse, evidently from the Continent. My Twitter feed has been all over it, with moth folk reporting many double- and even three-figure catches, while a chap in North Kent caught c1200! I'm not sure quite how widespread it has been, but certainly the south and east coasts have seen the arrival, plus many inland sites. I had six on Friday night and another three in this morning's catch. Not exactly inundated, but that compares with just a single last year. Here's one from last night ...

Moth of the moment: Tortrix viridana, or Green Oak Tortrix.

Friday night

114 moths of 66 species was virtually double the size of recent catches, certainly in terms of variety. Lots of highlights, including three new species for the garden, and 22 for the year. Here are some of them...

First hawk-moth of the year, and what a beaut! Privet Hawk-moth. I caught three last year, so they're not a common sight.

Small Blood-vein. First of the year, and a really fresh example.

Grey Pug. Tricky. Caught just three last year, so am happy for all the ID practice I can get.

A nice first for the garden.

Another garden first, and an interesting moth to catch in company with all the green ones - this one is a pale, creamy yellow. Notice it's in the middle of cleaning its antennae. Different moths have all sorts of different reactions to finding themselves in the photographic studio. Mister Timothy Tortrix was nice and relaxed about it all.

Dingy Shell. First of the year. Apparently never sits with its wings open.

After a long flight...

Small Fan-foot. First of the year.

Haven't caught many of these, and this one is probably the best marked.

One of last year's fun games was the Currant Pug/Wormwood Pug dilemma. And here we are again... This one is a Currant Pug. At least, I think so!

A common enough micro, but this is the first of 2023. Don't recall noticing the slightly pinkish flush before. Nice.

Small Clouded Brindle - new for the garden. Not that many records locally.

Saturday night

91 moths of 48 species, with four new for the garden and 12 for the year. Not quite as lively as Friday night, but again some lovely highlights...

Another crowd pleaser. Poplar Hawk-moth.

The Phoenix, a beautifully marked moth.

Green moths are always good value. Green Arches has only visited twice before.

Looks even better in the garden hedge.

This belter wasn't even on my radar. It's an Alder Moth. Apparently quite common locally (though I didn't catch any last year) but it had me completely stumped. I had one of those moments where you're faced with an unfamiliar moth but simply cannot find it in the field guide. Back and forth I went, scanning the plates, increasingly anxious that the trap had bagged some mega or other... Moth drama!

New for the garden.

One of those moths which some label a pest, and for which you can buy all sorts of stuff designed to 'control' it. I have one previous record. It's more than welcome here.

There are quite a few species which look superficially like Myelois circumlocuta. But, at almost 17mm long, this one is the daddy. A first for the garden.

This one has many look-alikes, all of which I find tricky. I need to get my eye in though, because they will soon be coming thick and fast...

Another garden first, and thankfully - with its stripy, scaly-based antennae - a Coleophorid that is easy to ID.

Another night of moth trapping lies ahead. Along with myriad Tortrix viridana, a few rarities have begun to appear on Twitter now, almost all of which I have never heard of. I love the voyage of discovery that mothing very much is, but opening the trap and spying an unfamiliar moth is far more stressful than I had ever anticipated. Is it just something common? Or is it a first for Britain?! Obviously I know what the odds are, but that doesn't make those few seconds between spotting it and potting it any less fraught.

I love it!

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Many times, over the years, various friends suggested I get into mothing. As recently as spring 2022 in fact. My reply was always the same: 'Maybe in another life.' Knowing my own nature, I was convinced it would be impossible to dabble at moths. Mothing would not be some pleasant summertime diversion. No, it would be full-on, all-consuming, and I would become its slave.

I was not wrong.

Last year was bad enough, but this year is even worse. Or do I mean better? Last June I would have to look up almost every single moth I caught. Initially I had to ignore most micros - there just wasn't the time. One year on, and I can identify most macros I catch, and micros get the attention they deserve. I've taken to photographing many of them, and annotating each pic with the moth's systematic classification, name (scientific and vernacular) and larval food. It's a bit of a chore, but with a purpose - slowly I am beginning to memorise a few.

The garden list is growing - 13 new in the last three nights - and the year list is now on 162, plus five aggregates. Lots of rarity buzz too, with some very decent records. And I now realise the blog is going to be my illustrated mothing diary. So here we go...

Tuesday night

First Maiden's Blush of the year. Delicate and pristine.

Though its left forewing is a bit deformed, this Scalloped Hazel is a first for the garden, so gets a well-deserved mugshot.

Small White Wave - another garden first.

Sharp-angled Peacock. First of the year.

First for the garden.

Wednesday night

Sycamore. Not rare, but nice. Caught three last year.

The garden's second Cream Wave. More strongly marked than the first, which featured in the previous post.

Just a single Bridport area dot on the Living Record map, but have caught this moth two nights on the trot now, with two individuals last night.

This outrageous micro was a very unexpected turn-up two nights ago. I have seen countless photos on Twitter, but all from daytime encounters. I didn't know it came to light as well, but it does. In fact, three did last night! Affectionately known as Geoff.

Second Freyer's Pug of the year. Always look at pugs.

Another garden first, and seemingly quite a scarce moth in the county.

Side view, showing the little scale tufts.

Living Record map of Luquetia lobella. A good record for West Dorset.

Typical mothy 'little brown job', with beautifully intricate markings when you look closely. Had a handful of these last year. This one is the first of 2023.

Wednesday night's other Geoff.

Thursday night

First of the year. Caught a couple in 2022.

What a beauty! This Silver-ground Carpet is another garden first.

This moth - another garden first - was netted by our wildlife hedge. There don't appear to be that many Dorset records. Apparently it doesn't come to light, though will come to pheremone lures designed to attract its congener Grapholita funebrana, the Plum Fruit Moth. The two species look very similar, but I am given to understand that the pale, off-white palps separate tenebrosana from funebrana.

No recent Bridport area records of G. tenebrosana, and only a total of nine elsewhere.

First of the year. A cracking little micro.

Straw Dot. First of the year, and a nice, fresh example of this common moth. It is about the same size and shape as Anania crocealis pictured above. Yet this one is a so-called 'macro-moth', and the other a 'micro'. Moths are tricky.

To the naked eye this looks like a speckly little red-brown job. But through a lens it is STUNNING! First for the garden.

This little cracker is only about 4.5mm long, and in almost perpetual motion. No way could I let it out of the pot! A great story with this moth too. See below...

So, Lyonetia prunifoliella. I knew it was a moth I hadn't seen before, but it reminded me of Lyonetia clerkella, a miniscule silvery splinter that I've encountered quite a few times now. Very quickly I located a good candidate in my copy of Manley. But hang on, that can't be the one - it says Lyonetia prunifoliella is categorised RDB1 (Red Data Book 1), i.e. endangered. Well, it was. Apparently not reliably recorded in the UK since 1900, it suddenly reappeared around 2017 and now several counties have recorded it a few times, including Dorset, with around ten records. Still a great catch though!

Perhaps it is obvious why I am hooked on this fascinating pastime.