Tag: Moths

A paradise of parched grasses

Walking at Weetslade Country Park this past weekend, the rolling grasslands of the former colliery site appeared almost Mediterranean. Parched grasses, sapped by what seems like an eternity of vigorous sunlight, appearing yellowed, dry and lifeless. The vista laid out before me more like a sight from the South of Spain, or Portugal than one from usually tepid, often grey Northumberland.

Where grasses wilt and fall, however, others persevere and all around the site, the matt of drained yellows and browns was streaked by colour. By the countless blooms of wildflowers, themselves undaunted by the Summer heatwave. The pale purple of Creeping thistle interspersed with much more delicate heads of Yellow Rattle and Lady’s Bedstraw, and studded by the vibrant, sickly yellow blooms of ragwort. All of which, alongside the odd, almost alien spikes of Vipers Bugloss, lent an uncharacteristically tropical feel to the morning. Something only amplified by the presence of a huge number of butterflies.

All around Weetslade, energetic Small Skippers darted from bloom to bloom, feeding hungrily but occasionally stopping to bask and preen. Elsewhere, Ringlet and Meadow Brown quartered the rank margins, and many Large White’s, crisp and fresh from the chrysalis, danced as they pursued potential mates. A fantastic sight, plucked straight from a lepidopterists dream, only enhanced by the punchy colours of the occasional Peacock, Small Tortoiseshell and golden Large Skipper.

Despite their numbers, butterflies, however, were not the most numerous winged creature on the wing this weekend: that honour goes to the Six-spot Burnet. A remarkable little moth, clad in a beautiful yet a cautionary mix of black and red and boasting a set of preposterously long antennae.

This day, these moths were everywhere: flying in a typical clumsy manner between the heads of ragwort and thistle and, where flowers shone, gathering and copulating en masse. A true Summer spectacular, and not something you see every day. Indeed, a very rough count of the moths on show revealed well over one-hundred – including twenty in a single riving ball of dotted wings and extraterrestrial-looking appendages.

Six-spot Burnet’s cluster on a thistle-head

Of course, no visit would be complete absent a highlight and, heading back to the car, a definitive one landed right in front of our noses. The sight of a delicate butterfly taking flight between thistle-heads drawing us closer until the identity of the curiosity was revealed: a White-letter Hairstreak. A very scarce butterfly in Northumberland which, spurred on by the pleasant weather, appears to be enjoying somewhat of a resurgence – popping up at various local sites including Prestwick Carr and Gosforth Park, wherever it’s foodplant, Wych Elm, clings on.

All good things must draw to a close and, as the hairstreak took flight, we did too. Pausing briefly, car-door ajar, to savour the song of a Yellowhammer drifting over from a tangle of hawthorns to our right. A little bit of bread and no cheese, never has a birds song had a better mnemonic attached to it.

White-letter Hairstreak, Weetslade Country Park

Large White feasting on Burdock

An interesting record…

I love moth trapping. I adore the expectant thrill that abounds when venturing into the unknown each morning; as I carefully remove egg boxes and examine the various colourful critters disguised beneath. Mothing, for me, is addictive, exhilarating even – each morning bringing some different; whether in the form of a new species, a record count or a garden rarity. The anticipation that abounds when combing through the contents of a trap paramount to that of fishing, or birding in autumn – the same sense of the unexpected drawing me back time and time again.

Today’s catch looked promising at a glance: two of the first moth’s removed representing overdue firsts for my little urban garden – Broad-bordered Yellow Underwing and Copper Underwing – the latter of which is rather more scarce up North where it’s commoner cousin, the Svensson’s Copper Underwing, reigns supreme. Sure enough, I caught eight Svensson’s this morning which, when coupled with other highlights of Gold Spot, Dark Marbled Carpet and only my second Garden Pebble, left me feeling satisfied. That is until a curious looking, striped moth in the final egg tray caught my attention – a new one for me which, after some advice from various people on Facebook revealed itself to be Hypsopygia glaucinalis or Double-striped Tabby. As seen in the cover photo of this post.

Now, the interesting thing about this species is that there had only been two previous records of it in the county. Making my individual only the third ever recorded in Northumberland. Easily my best garden record to date and right up there in the excitement stakes with the scant few notable records I have obtained in the past. Among these the first Small Dark Yellow Underwing and Black Mountain Moth for Angus since the 1970’s. Yes, today was a good day.

Said Small Dark Yellow Underwing from Angus in 2015

Adventures in the night garden

There is something quite exhilarating about spending time outdoors by night – each sound, each rustle in the shrubbery and splash in the water indicative of hidden treasures lying just out of sight amid the gloom. Watching wildlife by night is intoxicating, plain and simple, and recently, has become somewhat of a hobby of mine. A pastime born of necessity, with my days of late spent catching up on university work carrying and out a host of more menial tasks, thus leaving little time for adventure.

Last night, I spent three hours in the garden – watching, waiting and, most rewarding of all, listening, with only the blue glow of my actinic moth trap to light my way. My watch beginning at 10 pm as, with the light fading fast, the local Pipistrelles arrived to feed. Their coming timed to perfection to coincide with the departure of the first moths from their daylight hideaways. Indeed, as I watched, more and more moths emerged – springing forth from the Privet hedge and the nearby Hawthorns before heading upwards, often with the bats in close pursuit. I am yet to see a bat actually catch a moth, though I did witness one interesting piece of behaviour as a rather large individual – a large yellow underwing, I think – plummeted downwards, rigid as a stone, clearly having caught wind of its would-be pursuer. An interesting defence mechanism, and something that, to date, I have only seen on TV.

By 11 pm the last vestiges of light had faded and the moth trap had been fired up – the first arrivals, as ever, being the underwings. Followed closely by a number of Smoky Wainscot, Riband Wave and Snout – some of the more numerous species to inhabit my urban garden. Many moths came and went as I watched, with some – a rather beautiful Straw Underwing included – landing conveniently in the trap, and others, missing it entirely. No matter.

Before long, a faint rustling in the compost heap diverted my attention away from the trap. The sound of crunching, desiccated vegetation easily audible as a fleet of Common Frogs began to emerge. Ambling forward, into the open, before splitting up in all directions: towards the lawn, pond, borders and hedge. Easily counted by torchlight, a total of seven frogs were found, with another, concealed in some waterside vegetation, croaking loudly upon my approach. This particular individual joined amid the Water Mint by a delightful Smooth Newt. The latter watched and enjoyed as it emerged from the shallows before slinking, with surprising speed, out of sight. My efforts to facilitate my local amphibians are paying off, it would seem.

Come midnight, I had resumed my watch of the moth trap, adding Light Emerald and Common Plume to my list as I listened to the screeches of a distant Tawny Owl in the park adjacent to the house. I had just about grown tired when another sound caught my attention: an undoubtedly familiar call of a bird above that, for the life of me, I could not place for some time. I did eventually, however: it was a tern. A very unusual addition to the list of animals seen and heard from the garden, and a quite unexpected one, if that – I do, after all, live some way from the coast. Doubtless, this had to have been a migrating bird heading overland on its way South for Winter.

The tern was not the only migrant heard this night, however, and soon the call of an Oystercatcher became audible as it passed overhead. The high-pitched flight calls of the bird (or birds) followed soon, by the much more exciting sound of a Whimbrel, and then, the honking of geese. It really is amazing what you can hear from the comfort of your own deck chair at night, once the hustle and bustle of urban life has died down and others have succumbed to slumber.

My night outdoors finished as it began: with moths. A graceful Barred Red the last species to enter my trap before it was sealed and concealed for study the next day. Making my way to the house 1 am – placing my feet carefully so not the injure any of the snails moving slowly across the lawn – I found myself rather giddy, and grinning profusely. It really was an evening well spent.

Oh yes, and I am pleased to announce that, following their arrival last Spring, our garden foxes have returned. Hurrah!

 

Common Rustic agg.
Willow Beauty
Elderberry Pearl
Barred Red

Wild respite

In dire need of a break from thesis writing, yesterday I set off for Druridge Bay in search of a little wild respite. The proceeding three hours, mercifully, filled with no end of fantastic wildlife – just what the doctor ordered to cure my current mood.

Starting off at Cresswell Pond and the highlight here came in the form of three Spoonbill feeding on the flood just North of the causeway – always a nice species to see in the North.  With these, two Avocets did their best to defend their rather small chicks from a marauding heron and a Grey Partridge wandered across the road in front of a passing car. The best of the rest at the pond coming in the form of two Common Sandpiper, a female Marsh Harrier and a Stock Dove trying and failing to blend in with the farmyard pigeons. A lone Wheatear was observed in the dunes as I made my way elsewhere.

Taking a leisurely wander South along the beach, the first thing that struck me upon arrival was the sheer number of terns feeding in the bay. Mostly Sandwich Tern, as is the norm here; though Common and Arctic were by no means scarce. A single Roseate feeding close in behind the breakers was a tad more surprising – not a bird to be scoffed at and only my second of the year! Also here, a large raft of perhaps eight hundred Common Scoter fed – diving and rising in perfect unison – and a pair of Summer plumage Red-Throated Diver were also seen. Add to these a good haul of Kittiwake, Gannet, Puffin, Guillemot and Shag, and things were looking rather positive by the time I reached Druridge Pools.

Plodding up to the Budge Screen where a cast of familiar local faces had assembled to ogle the visiting Pectoral Sandpiper, it wasn’t long before I laid eyes on the bird itself – namesake markings clearly visible as it fed in the glorious Summer sunshine. Alongside the vagrant, a selection of more regular waders were also seen, including a splendid Ruff, singles of each Wood and Green Sandpiper, one Whimbrel and fifty-eight Black-Tailed Godwit. Most of the latter still clad in their delightful, auburn garb. Waders aside, the rest of my time at Druridge was split between admiring the resident Little Owl perched in the usual spot along the farm wall, and photographing a few of the sites smaller residents: Five-spot Burnets, Blue-Tailed Damselflies and numerous Red Admirals providing a welcome touch of colour to conclude the trip.

Five-spot Burnets 

Back home and another night of garden moth trapping turned up a few pleasant odds and ends. A female Ghost Moth and a dapper Buff Arches the stand our individuals of a catch that also included Purple Clay, Buff Ermine, Straw Dot, Light Emerald, Clay and Bright-line Brown-eye. The only new species for my slowly increasing garden list comprised three Yellow-spot Tortrix and a lone Single-dotted Wave.

 

Buff Ermine, Ghost Moth and Buff Arches

Ruby Tiger and other treasures

Having recently purchased a new moth trap only to break the bulb while unpacking it, I was delighted when my replacement arrived yesterday. This meaning that, for the first time this year, I could kick-back in the garden and engross myself in some local Lepidoptera. Well, this didn’t go exactly to plan – heavy rain hampering my efforts after a meagre two hours – though, with 71 moths of 21 separate species languishing in the trap this morning, it could have gone much worse.

The star of the show when it came time to unpack the trap this morning was undoubtedly the superb Ruby Tiger Phragmatobia fuliginosa pictured above. A rather sumptuous looking moth boasting outlandish crimson underwings, and a real favourite of mine. Not a scarce species, by any standards, but a nice one to see in my urban backyard. Of its winged counterparts also nestled within the trap, a Barred Yellow Cnidaria fulvata was also nice to see; while a couple of Bordered White Bupalus piniaria were new for the garden list. The most numerous species obtained were, as ever, the Large Yellow Underwings Noctua pronuba which, typically, burst out in a flurry of frantic buzzing as soon as I lifted the lid. Much to the delight of my cat which soon set off (unsuccessfully) in pursuit of the escapees.

I look forward to trapping more frequently throughout the Summer, and in doing so, uncovering, further, the wealth of unseen life dwelling within my garden.

Double Square-spot, Barred Yellow, Dark Arches, Ruby Tiger, Bee Moth and Small Fan-foot