Wired for Sound Again

On the corner of my desk are two A5 notebooks full of daily moth counts, many of which are still waiting to be added to the Living Record database, and already I am several pages into notebook number three. All this moth stuff is very time-consuming, and has impacted on my birding in two main ways. One, I have found it difficult to get out for an early-morning walk before work, especially when the trap is busy. And two, I haven't bothered with nocmig since the end of May; I simply have not had the time to go through a night's recording. So a rather nice digital recorder has been lying idle for quite a while. Hopefully that is about to change.

During my recent stay at Portland Bird Observatory I tested out some new bits of kit designed to facilitate in-the-field sound recording. In previous autumns it has been fun to have the recorder running while out birding, especially on mornings with good overhead passage. However, my recording set-up, with the recorder clipped to my camera bag strap, has always felt less than ideal. It is fairly bulky, not weather-proof, and I once had a dog lunge at it, presumably thinking the 'dead cat' wind-shield was a small furry creature deserving of death. Was there a better, safer way to utilise this fairly expensive item for field recording? Yes, I think so...

Zoom H4nPro with EM272 'Clippy' mic, plus right-angle 3.5mm jack adaptor.

The EM272 is a quality microphone and, rigged as a clip-on lavalier with suitable wind-shield, is ideal for field recording. It came with an in-line jack, whereas the Zoom really needs a right-angle version, hence the adaptor. On Portland I could wander about with the recorder safely stowed in my camera bag and the mic clipped to the strap, with the lead wound around it a couple of times for security. Initial trials were encouraging. The wind-shield was very effective at minimising wind noise, and the microphone picked up bird sounds better than I did. Certainly its Siskin count was a lot higher than mine!

Obviously, the highlight of my stay was finding a Wryneck. I am aware that sometimes I quietly talk to myself when out birding, so was curious to know if chancing upon a scarce bird had prompted any involuntary outbursts. My initial view had been a fleeting glimpse when I flushed it at a footpath T-junction. I was walking the head of the T, and it flew a few yards along the stem, landing out of view behind some vegetation at the side of the path. I had no idea what it was, but through bins could just make out some well-marked feathers through the foliage. I was still puzzling over my mystery bird when it craned its neck to have a look at me. Oh! It's a Wryneck!

My recording is unexpectedly silent at this point. Not even a gasp of surprise. I am so cool. The first you hear of me is a bit of rustling as I extract my phone, then my side of a brief conversation with Martin Cade at the obs. During which, I have to say, I sound very relaxed. Like I find Wrynecks every day. Next up is a short exchange with some passing walkers who ask if they might have seen Ravens just now, and are delighted to have their tentative identification confirmed. It was almost 20 minutes before the first birders from the obs turned up, and the ensuing soundtrack is typical of any minor twitch ever. But entertaining all the same.

So there we are. I am once again wired for sound. Bring on the Richard's Pipits.

PBO

Portland Bird Observatory is located on Portland Bill at the eastern extremity of Lyme Bay, a bit less than 20 miles along the coast from West Bay. Staying there for a couple of nights has been on my to-do list for ages, and now finally is ticked off.

I arrived late on Monday afternoon. There was very, very little in the way of migrants, but still it was nice to plod about the Bill area, seeing nothing and imagining what tomorrow might bring...

Looking south towards the Bill lighthouse. PBO is located at the old Lower Light, far left.

Tomorrow didn't bring much in fact. The habitat looks full of promise, but was not full of birds. A few pics from Tuesday...

Whinchat, one of three seen during my stay.

Yellow Wagtail. They never stop.

Wheatear

Many of the Bill area fields are given over to horses, so there is much tightly-grazed turf. Wagtails like it, and picking through the odd group of alba wags for potential White Wagtail is always fun. White Wagtail - especially in autumn - is one of a number of birds where, if you think possibly you've got one, you almost certainly haven't. Whereas the genuine article is usually quite obvious. Like this one...

White Wagtail. I saw five in total.

Flukey shot showing extensive pale grey rump, characteristic of White Wag.

Yesterday dawned with a shift in the wind. The fairly brisk NNE livened things up no end, with a constant stream of birds heading into it, particularly Meadow Pipits and Swallows. My morning walks produced around 50 Wheatears, and with phylloscs in the bushes, it felt quite birdy. Poking around the top fields shortly before 10:30 I got especially jammy...

Wryneck being coy.

Amazingly this is Portland's first Wryneck of the autumn (of the year?) and as such was much appreciated, especially when it later put on a bit of a show...

A major bonus for me were the PBO moths. Here are a couple I hope to see in the garden trap one day...

Delicate. A fairly regular migrant that has so far avoided our trap.

Radford's Flame Shoulder. A bit scarcer, this one.

And here's one I should like to see in the trap, but shan't be holding my breath over...

Beautiful Marbled. What a little stunner!

I think I shall be back...

PBO

The Moth Diary

Predictably it is getting harder to add new species to the garden moth lists. Even so, the totals are way beyond what I might have imagined in June last year, when this all began. The year list stands at 456 (including aggregates) and the all-time list at 532. Yet that barely scratches the surface of what is out there. Moths have got under my skin. I find myself looking for moths when I'm out birding, or out anywhere in fact. This is a story which is going to run and run.

Keeping a moth diary on the blog has been fun, and quite useful for me too, and this post simply brings it up to date...

 

Thursday night, 7th September

119 moths of 43 species; two new for year. Both NFY moths were very autumnal species...

The year's first Lunar Underwing. I expect to see a lot of these. This attractive version is like a poor man's Feathered Rustic.

Centre-barred Sallow, another moth of autumn leaves.

Another delicate Portland Ribbon Wave.

A fair few micros have random tufty bits, and this is one of them. Well, not random I guess. Carefully organised and in exactly the correct place, more like.

Friday night, 8th September

153 moths of 53 species; two new for year, one new for garden. I'm not sure why, but this night's catch included a bigger selection of micros than usual. Both NFY were micros. One, Bucculatrix nigricomella, avoided the camera, but the other just snuggled down in the lid of its pot and let me get a couple of shots...

Yes, another nuisance moth.

In my 'Manley' field guide, this moth looks exactly like the photo of Mompha divisella. The other two species looked quite different, so I thought, 'Excellent, job done', and wrote it down. A bit of online research soon pulled me up though. Although I have yet to see a photo of M. jurassicella that looks anything like my pic, there are plenty of M. bradleyi that are the spitting image, so I am stuffed. Another poxy aggregate. M. bradleyi was apparently overlooked until the 1990s, which is presumably why it has that silly vernacular name. Neat Mompha is pretty bad, but New Neat Mompha is another level of badness. Or am I just letting my grumpiness show?

Common Marbled Carpet is a pretty moth. I've started taking photos of nice examples simply to illustrate the variability shown by this species. Helps take my mind off the annoying aggregates too.

Saturday night, 9th September

115 moths of 37 species. Nothing new, but the Dewick's Plusia that featured in the previous post, plus an unprecedented three Blair's Mochas were highlights. Also, the first Box-tree Moth for more than three weeks.

Sunday night, 10th September

141 moths of 42 species; one new for year. Last night's catch was notable for two main reasons: our third (different) Dewick's Plusia, and a total of four Blair's Mochas! There were other highlights of course...

First of the year, following one in 2022. Does not eat clothes.

Am I going to get blasé about Dewick's Plusias? I hope not...

Dewick's Plusia #3

Looks pretty cool in plan view too.

A lovely, second-generation Maiden's Blush.

A shaggy little Pale Eggar.

The annotation should really say 'presumed Acleris laterana'. Sigh...

Yes, the above moth - of which we trapped three last night, all similar - has a look-alike, Acleris comariana, or Strawberry Tortrix. The latter is much scarcer in Dorset, and I get the impression that most don't look like our moth, though both species apparently are very variable. So anyway, I'm going with the commoner of the two.

Finally, it was nice to catch a favourite mini-tripod moth - Caloptilia semifascia - in its autumn colours. It seems that many moths with more than one brood per year also have a different appearance with each brood. Here it is in summer plumage...

Caloptilia semifascia (Maple Slender) caught 11th July 2022.

The autumn version, sans big creamy cummerbund. Our first.

Right, that's everything up to date. Now I'm off to do some serious birding...

Immortalised in Moth

Last night brought two very welcome visitors to the garden trap: our second Dewick's Plusia and an immaculate Blair's Mocha, one of three...

Dewick's Plusia #2 for the garden

Potted before entering the trap, this has to be the most pristine example of Blair's Mocha that I've seen. Straight in the fridge!

Dewick's, Blair's...

Once again I found myself pondering the origins of these familiar English vernacular moth names. The capture of our first Dewick's Plusia just a few days ago (see here) did prompt me to look up the origin of its name, and thus I learned about Suffolk lepidopterist Mr A J Dewick and his red-letter night in October 1951. But Dewick is just one of many names immortalised in Moth. Scan any field guide index and you will find several. Rustics seem especially to attract such monikers - we have Vine's, Duméril's, Porter's and Clancy's, for example.

This habit of naming creatures after their 'discoverers' always strikes me as a bit Victorian but, when it comes to moths, the tradition is alive and well in the 21st century. I learned that Patton's Tiger is named after Sarah Patton, who trapped the first for Britain as recently as 2005.

So, what about Blair's Mocha? We caught 20 last year, and our 2023 total already stands at 30. It is a moth I have grown very fond of, but I knew nothing of its namesake. Who was he or she? Well, whoever it was, they were a busy little bee, because we also have Blair's Shoulder-knot and Blair's Wainscot.

A bit of detective work led me to a Wikipedia entry on Dr Kenneth Gloyne Blair, former president of the Royal Entomological Society. Following retirement to the Isle of Wight in 1943, his immortalisation was assured...

1945 - Blair's Wainscot - first discovered at Freshwater Marsh.

1946 - Blair's Mocha - apparent first occurrence in Britain of this immigrant.

1951 - Blair's Shoulder-knot - ditto.

Obviously I do not know anything at all about Dr Blair as a man - his character, personality and so on -  and he was born into a world with very different values. So, what follows is completely unjustified but, sorry, I have to ask: honestly, wasn't one moth sufficient?

Perhaps it's just me, but I cannot help thinking it a bit vain to have your name given to some creature that's been around a lot longer than you have. But if you really must, at least stick to just one. Three, Dr Blair? Seriously? Ironically it turned out that Blair's Mocha had been recorded twice on Scilly, long before Ken's encounter with one in 1946. Was the name changed accordingly? Certainly not!

As you might imagine, the research carried out for this post was far from exhaustive, but I did learn that Duméril's Rustic is not named after the man who first described it, but after a close friend. Much more laudable if you ask me.

That all said, I am in no position to judge. In my youth it might have been a different story. No doubt I was sufficiently vain to have jumped at the chance to read Haig's Fan-foot in moth field guides for the rest of my days. But would I have felt a bit guilty in later life? After all, many years ago I was rash enough to give my name to a less-than-stellar blend of Scotch Whisky. Not exactly a legacy I am proud of.

A Thriving Colony

Yesterday evening was forecast warm and muggy, perfect for Tree Crickets. Excellent, because a visit to West Bexington was long overdue. Having discovered the little colony of Tree Crickets there two years ago (see here) I felt a bit guilty for neglecting them all summer. Were they doing okay? Were they even still present? Only one way to find out...

Parking up, it felt odd not to have been here at all since last autumn. The familiar walk down to the beach was quiet, and once there I spent the time from dusk into darkness looking for moths along the coast path. Plenty of the common migrants, Silver Y and Rusty-dot Pearl, but I didn't spot anything scarcer. Last year I caught a couple of White-points and a Bordered Straw there. Soon it was properly dark and, on cue, a chorus of Tree Crickets fired up.

I recorded a short video to capture the beautiful soundscape - multiple Tree Crickets against a backdrop of lazy surf - then set about searching for the nearest one. I remembered how hard it was to see one last year, so didn't hold out much hope. What a surprise then, not only to find it quickly but to see it was actively in song, despite being in the spotlight of my head torch! I fumbled for the camera. Unfortunately, panic mode took control. 'Quick!' it yelled, 'Get something! ANYthing!' and forgot all about focusing and exposure compensation. Still, I managed a few seconds of video showing a Tree Cricket with its wings raised, stridulating. Also, when it inevitably stopped before the focus kicked in, a few photos...

West Bexington Tree Cricket Oecanthus pellucens.

The light of my head torch was enough to give me ISO400 and pretty decent sharpness.

I noticed that this Tree Cricket's antennae were much shorter than those of the one I photographed last year (see here) but they did seem to be of equal length. So I'm not sure whether this is normal (i.e. some simply have short antennae) or whether it is in fact damage, but neatly symmetrical damage.

So, here is the video. The first 30 seconds set the scene, with that gorgeous soundscape against a black backdrop. The lens cover was off, but the camera couldn't see anything! Following that, some...er...unprecedented footage of a Dorset Tree Cricket...

I could hardly have wished for a better outcome, and it was great to know that the Tree Cricket colony is thriving. I didn't hear any away from the usual spot and the number of audible individuals seemed consistent with previous visits, so I cannot say whether it is growing. Still, at least they are still there, and so is the lovely habitat. Once again it struck me how few know or care about this tiny extralimital population of what is a pretty common insect elsewhere, and how there must be countless similarly under-the-radar scenarios involving other small creatures. We really do not know what we are missing.

Finally, a couple of entries for the Moth Diary...

Tuesday night, 5th September

100 moths of 39 species; two new for year. One of the new ones was Pandemis cinnamomeana, which avoided the camera. The other was this beauty...

Feathered Gothic, definitely high on my 'Aesthetically Pleasing' list. Recorded on three nights last year, and not uncommon locally.

Wednesday night, 6th September

I had high hopes for Wednesday night. It was warm and humid, and brought a lot of Sahara dust. If only it had been as generous with North African vagrants. The trap was certainly busy (173 moths of 55 species) but migrants were few, and absolutely nothing was new for year or garden. Plenty of interest though...

The garden's third Cypress Pug.

With <10 other Bridport area records on the Living Record map, this is another moth we've done well for. Listed as 'local', this is our sixth of 2023, following two last year.

It is extremely unusual to be presented with a spread-wing photo opportunity by a micro of this kind, so I took it.

Prays fraxinella (not 'Prayes' as carelessly annotated in above pic) is another micro with <10 Bridport area records on the Living Record map. We trapped one last year, another in June and two together on Wednesday night. Interestingly, one was a dark form, as referred to three posts back (here) when I wrote about Prays ruficeps and got all soap-boxy about taxonomy. Apparently it is possible to separate a dark P. fraxinella from P. ruficeps due to the presence of 'fraxinella-ish markings' in the former. Now was an opportunity to test the theory...

Well, the theory seems to work in practice, but it would have been nice if our P. ruficeps had been a bit more 'unremittingly black'.

Last night's trap produced another dark fraxinella, so if it behaves I might try getting another photo to share.*

Two more Caloptilia robustella. Nice.

Western Conifer Seed Bug. Not sure we've had one of these in the garden before.

Finally, we caught one of these...

Elachista sp.

The 4mm silver sprite portrayed above is clearly quite a fresh individual in decent nick. However, like those intriguing tripod moths of the Parornix persuasion and myriad Coleophorids, there are loads of look-alikes. Put simply, they cannot reliably be identified to species without recourse to mutilation. I have been given some advice regarding such moths. Basically it is this:

Launch it heavenwards and erase from memory.

Oh, if only it were so easy. Every time I catch one of these things, it irks greatly.

* This blog spoils its readers.

Thank You, Mr Dewick

It is October 1951, and Mr A J Dewick has just extracted an unfamilar moth from his trap at Bradwell-on-Sea, Essex. I wonder if he immediately realised it was a first for Britain. No doubt it already had a scientific name, but - and I assume this is standard practice - as its 'discoverer' he got to choose an English vernacular name. He chose Dewick's Plusia, which has a nice ring to it. I am glad his name wasn't Postlethwaite or Higginbottom. Anyway, I've been aware of Dewick's Plusia since Steve trapped one in 2009 (see here) and, even as a non-moth'er at the time, thought it a cool name and even cooler moth. So, since going over to the Dark Side last year it has been on my radar...

Dewick's Plusia used to be a scarce immigrant, but numbers have been growing in recent years, with breeding proven in some counties. There are five Bridport area records on the Living Record map, so my hope seemed realistic...

What a belter! Dewick's Plusia, picked off the moth trap table late last night.

I am pleased to say it had good company too...

Monday night, 4th September

120 moths of 50 species; three new for year, one new for garden. One of the 'new for year' was an either/or (Acleris laterana/comariana) which avoided the camera anyway, so here's the other one...

Cypress Pug. Caught one last year too, and there are 31 other Bridport area records on the Living Record map. Another species that is on a par with Clifden Nonpareil locally.

Some other highlights from last night...

Phone shot of an Old Lady on the sugar. I didn't bother painting the posts yesterday, so it's on the previous night's dregs.

Another surprise late Sharp-angled Carpet, though this one lacks a proper 'sharp angle'.

Over four nights we've caught 25 of these now, and I think this is the best-marked of the lot. Zero records last year.

Our third this year. Just six Bridport area records on the Living Record map.

Blair's Mocha #26, a tired one.

Okay, I think that's enough Blair's Mocha pics. So, unless I trap any especially well-marked ones, that's it for 2023. The number we get here in Bridport is ridiculous, even compared with the rest of Dorset. Here's the Living Record map...

None of the other dots on this map represent a count of more than about seven or eight. Nowehere else has had double figures. Bridport, on the other hand...

September Fair

Sunday night's trap tally was almost double that of Saturday. Why? Heat is why. And, following a very warm Monday in which the working me melted a bit, tonight might be even better. But before I get all excited about moths, some birds...

A Friday afternoon jaunt to Cogden produced a couple of Whinchats, included this poser.

Also a cracking Wheatear on the beach. Not all autumn Wheatears are drab things.

Hopefully I will get back to some West Bay birding soon, but poking around the wonderful habitat at Cogden has been good for the soul. Migrants are at a premium still, but Saturday afternoon was a bit more productive, with at least 5 Spotted Flycatchers, 2 Wheatears, 3 Chiffs, a Lesser Whitethroat and a Redstart. Talking of Redstarts...

I've seen quite a few local Redstarts now, but am yet to nail a really nice photo of one. They are by far and away the trickiest species to get close to. Well, they are for me. You would think the 'sit and wait' approach ought to work, but it never does. Several times I've stumbled across a Redstart, then tucked myself away to let it settle down and show me its little routine, but one of two things always happens. Either it simply never reappears (which is what Saturday's bird did) or it does indeed settle down, but half a mile up the hedge. They seem to know exactly the range that will guarantee tenth-rate photos yet keep me dangling there in hope. One day, maybe...

Spotted Flycatchers are rarely such a tease...

Spotted Flycatcher. One of at least five in the same general area.

It's been some time since the last NQS gull content, so here's one that caught my eye at Cogden Beach on Saturday...

I'm pretty sure the one on the left is a Lesser Black-backed Gull, with those long wings and lots of juv feathers still. I never did see it fly, nor even its open wings.

Can you tell I haven't had a gull fix in a while?

Obviously I was hoping to encounter something like a young Yellow-legged Gull, but any port in a storm seems an appropriate cliché.

And so, the Moth Diary...

 

Thursday night, 31st August

96 moths of 38 species; three new for year and for garden. All the new ones were micros. One avoided the camera (Epinotia nisella, thankfully not a scarce or difficult one) but the other two did not...

Same moth, different angles. I really like the Caloptilia group, so am especially pleased with this one. It has a look-alike - C. alchimiella - and the two are tricky to separate, but my ID has had the thumbs-up from Dorset's verification team. Just four other Bridport area records on the Living Record map.

And this one has just five other Bridport area records on the Living Record map.

By comparison with the above micros, Blair's Mocha is dirt common: #23 for '23.

This Scorpion Fly sp. was a whacky bit of bycatch.

Friday night, 1st September

A bit feeble, with just 38 moths of 20 species, but one was the charismatic, new-for-garden star of the previous post: Prays ruficeps, with its unremittingly black wings and rufi ceps.

Also this, caught on a sugary fence post...

The third Marbled Green this year, following four last summer.

Saturday night, 2nd September

Better, with 63 moths of 32 species; one new for year.

Pale Eggar. We caught just one last year too, coincidentally also on 2nd September. There are something like 25 Bridport area records on the Living Record map, which is less than the 30-odd records of Clifden Nonpareil. Recently I've been making that comparison quite a lot. Loads of species are locally scarcer than that beautiful creature. Amazing.

Pale Eggar - satellite view.

Common Wainscot is indeed common, but this one was so perfect I couldn't help myself.

I was hoping to capture the subtle furriness of the wings in this shot. Not sure I've quite managed it. Whatever, Common Wainscot is a lovely moth.

Sunday night, 3rd September

Despite a clear and moonlit night, it was warm: 117 moths of 44 species. Only one was new for year, but there were a couple of other treats...

A 3.5mm speck. We caught three of these last year too. Not a common moth in Dorset, and there is just one other Bridport area record on the Living Record map. With a massive London Plane on the green across the road, I think we have an advantage.

Another speck. This is our fifth of 2023, and we had one last year too. There are just three other Bridport area records on the Living Record map.

Despite a good chilling, not chilled. One angry Snout!

The garden's second Gold Spot. Pick your own superlative.

He he! Promise I won't do this next year! Two last night: Blair's Mocha #24 and #25. Last year's tally was 20, and there is still plenty of time to catch some more.

Despite its battered condition, this late Sharp-angled Carpet was worth a snap. Our second this year, following a single in 2022. According to the Dorset Moths website, Sharp-angled Carpet occurs at low density in the county. There are just six other Bridport area records on the Living Record map (from four sites) and once again I find myself comparing the numbers with Clifden Nonpareil...

As I type, it is once again clear and still outside, but warm. The trap is out. Here's hoping...