When the first Orange Tip of the garden year turned up just moments ago, I grabbed the nearest camera and rattled off a quick burst when it landed briefly on a wildflower (weed) in the garden. Pre-programmed settings on a Canon 7dii with a Sigma 150-600mm lens pulled to 600mm. 1/1600s, f/8.0, auto ISO jumped to 1600. No chance to do any bracketing or exposure compensation, before this male had flown. So, thank goodness for shooting in RAW.
RAW mode saves all the data your camera’s sensor detects. There’s no processing in the camera, you have to pull the RAW file into appropriate software and convert it to a format that you can then edit with a photo editor. In this case, I opened the native RAW importing component of PainShop Pro. This, like almost all other RAW software, lets you choose the exposure compensation after the fact so that blownout whites like one would get with an Orange Tip butterfly can be rescued.
So, as you can see in the above before and after shot, I’ve set exposure compensation (highlight recovery, they call it in this software) to “normal” and it’s rescued some of the blownout details of the white part of the butterfly’s wing. RAWTherapee, Lightroom, and other tools let you do more sophisticated imports of RAW files. And, you can rescue the blacks too and then create a pseudo-bracketed shot or even an HDR if you wish with some software.
Once some rescue work has been done, I’ll usually then apply a few different adjustments to levels, clarity, vibrancy, and sharpness, as well as cropping and adding my logo.
TL:DR – The LepiLED UV lamp is a rather useful, low-power and portable lure for use in citizen science with nocturnal Lepidoptera
UPDATE: Aug/Sep 22 – Have done a couple of trips with the LepiLED and a portable trap. First, to the New Forest and then to Corfe Castle. The first, August trip, was quite productive with a few decent moths and a couple that were new to me, such as Rosy Footman. Fewer moths on the September trip, as you’d expect, but again a couple of new ones, including L-album Wainscot and Tachystola acroxantha.
L-album Wainscot
UPDATE: Feb 22 – All set up and lit up on Friday evening at dusk just for a quick trial. The LepiLED is nice and bright and lasted several hours on the battery pack. However, the night was rather chilly, although the wind had dropped, there was very little visible invertebrate activity in the garden, sadly, and no moths seen. In previous years with fluorescent UV lamps, it has been the same, don’t tend to see any moths in February, activity picks up in mid-March.
Apparently, mothing became something of a lockdown hobby for nature fans who weren’t allowed to head out into their usual patch to watch birds, search for orchids, hug trees, etc. I can’t see I’ve heard much evidence that anyone who may have glanced at it as a hobby back in 2020 has kept up with it…let me know if you did and you have. Either way, I’ve been lighting up since July 2018 after being introduced to the idea by my good friend Rob that summer. It became something of an obsession and subsequent years and I’ve been keen to find ways to see new species each season. I’ve clocked and photographed well over 300 unique moth species in that time.
My German lepidopteral contact Gunnar Brehm of whom I’ve written a couple of times on here in the past has now supplied me with a LepiLED device. The device is basically a cluster of LED lights in a chunky protective canister made of ultraviolet-transparent borosilicate glass that is powered using a portable USB powerpack). It has three wavelength peaks for attracting nocturnal insects. Two peaks in the visible spectrum green (530 nanometres) and blue (450 nm), and a third, peak in the ultraviolet (365 nm). The associated research linked to the peak choice in the design can be found here.
Having spent the first four seasons (July 2018 onwards) of my scientific moth-trapping with conventional fluorescent UV tubes (the kind that are used, ironically, in bug zappers), I am very excited to have the opportunity to try a new approach with the lower power, tuned LepiLED device. The weather is not optimal at the moment, it’s very windy and we just had a squally hailstorm/snow shower. But, once I have set up the kit, I will start lighting up and report back to you with the countless specimens I see each evening as the moth season unfolds over the coming weeks.
I have now used an old actinic trap with its UV fluorescent tube removed to build a new rig for the LepiLED. As I mentioned, the lamp uses a USB power supply so should be portable, I can either hang it like it is in the above photo with a net sack added around the funnel (per Brehm’s field approach) to catch the moths or set it on the ground and use the box from the original trap with egg cartons as is traditional…I’ll try both at some point once the wind has died down and I’ve found a decent waterproof way to have the USB powerpack outside.
The Sprawler moth seems to spread its forelegs wide when it’s at rest on a chunk of wood. Its delicate patterning gives it something of a resemblance of a bark surface, perhaps. But, it is its scientific name that is a little curious and needs further explanation.
The Sprawler, new to my Cambridgeshire garden 8th November 2021
Lepidopterists originally referred to The Sprawler as Cassinia after the Italian astronomer Giovanni Domenico Cassini who lived from 1625—1712. It was first cited by Hufnagel in 1766. But, why was it named after an astronomer? The answer lies in the behaviour of the moth’s larva, its caterpillar. When startled the little green beast rears up its spine-covered head as if gazing heavenwards. Why it does this is something of a mystery, but then much about insects remains mysterious. Perhaps the behaviour is enough to fool a predator into thinking the larva might bite back.
The Cassinia genus was dropped in recent times for the term Asteroscopus, which is a more generic term for a star gazer, one might say. The astero part from the Greek for star and scopus from the word for watching (see also telescope). So, the full scientific binomial for The Sprawler is Asteroscopus sphinx (Hufnagel, 1766).
UPDATE: The Sprawler turned up in early November, bringing the total up to 36 new for the garden in 2021. No December moth yet, at the time of writing, sadly.
These Lepidoptera were all new for my back garden in Cottenham drawn to a 40 Watt ultraviolet “actinic” lamp on the night noted. Any of dubious ID I had confirmed from a photo by Sean Foote better known on Twitter as @MothIDUK to whom I am very grateful for the assistance and have put a tip in his tip jar.
The 35 species new for the garden in 2021 are as follows
*Drawn to pheromone lure during the day, rather than actinic light at night. If non-target then pheromone is named
Numbers were very much down on my previous three seasons of trapping, never getting to more than a couple of hundred moths on any given lighting-up night and usually of 30-40 species on such nights. When I last counted (2/9/21) I’d seen about 4760 moths of 260 species. In 2019, I counted 12000 specimens and hadn’t lit up anywhere near as frequently in that year as I have during 2021. Early to mid-September got quite busy with a lot of Large Yellow Underwings and Setaceous Hebrew Characters etc.
The spring was cold and wet, summer was a bit of a washout too, but we had two or three warm spells in September.
Mrs Sciencebase and myself visited the July Racecourse end of Devil’s Dyke near Newmarket back in July and saw literally hundreds of Chalkhill Blue butterflies and dozens of Marbled White as well as a couple of Dark Green Fritillary.
It was tip-off from a couple I met by chance in a woodland who were “twitching” a White Letter Hairstreak at Overhall Grove (Nick & Stella). All of this was mentioned in my Woodwalton NNR blog post at the time. The same couple pointed me in the direction of the Cambs and Essex branch of Butterfly Conservation website, to which members add their sightings on a very timely basis.
Treble-bar
I’d missed seeing Clouded Yellow on the wildflower margin at Waresley Wood up the hill from Browns’ Piece this year, not surprising given the farmer had ploughed it for some reason and put a load of signs up warning off walkers from venturing anywhere near his land.
Chalkhill Blues courting
Anyway, the C&E branch had an update regarding another dyke, Fleam Dyke, near the one I mentioned earlier. Chalkhill Blues there and Clouded Yellow. So I took a trip there on the first sunny morning for a few weeks. I was perhaps too late for the Clouded Yellow. Although their season does extend into the autumn, they’re a rare migrant anyway, so you have to be lucky.
However, parking up at the Fulbourn Fen car park and walking from there to Fleam Dyke and to the far end of the ridge Mutlow Hill, I was rewarded with a fair few Lepidoptera – Common Blue, Brown Argus, Brimstone butterfly, Red Admiral, Painted Lady, Gatekeeper, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood, Small Tortoiseshell, European Peacock, Chalkhill Blue, Large and Small White. There were numerous moths around – Silver Y, Yponomeuta sp., Garden Carpet, Treble-bar.
I had planned to head to Devil’s Dyke after walking Fleam Dyke for more “Chalks”, but changed my mind as it clouded over. I learned later from the Cambs & Essex page that someone had spotted a solitary Adonis Blue there, which would’ve been a new species to me. Ah well.
UPDATE: As of March 2022, American lepidopterists officially know Lymantria dispar as the Spongy Moth. It will be interesting to see whether this new vernacular name is adopted this side of The Atlantic too.
The proposed name comes from the common name used in France and French-speaking Canada, Spongieuse, and alludes to the spongy mass of eggs laid by the females.
In the US and elsewhere, there’s been a call to give many plants and animals new vernacular names because their well-known common names contain terms and words considered inappropriate. The Gypsy Moth, Lymantria dispar, is a case in point.
L. dispar was, according to the UK Moths website, “a common species in the East Anglian and southern fens” in the early 1800s, a century later it was extinct as a breeding species here. Meanwhile, having been introduced to North America in 1869 it has spread there and become a larval pest of deciduous trees. It is already more properly known as the LDD Moth in North America, for the extant sub-species there Lymantria dispar dispar.
Back in Old Blighty, the species had somewhat recovered in London by 1995 and has spread across its old stamping grounds. I saw my first male L. dispar to the actinic light on the night of the 5th August 2020, only my third season of mothing. On the almost balmy night of 22nd August 2021, there were three males in the garden. Incidentally, the females are larger and bulkier than the males and mostly white. The larvae are tiny and can disperse readily on a breath of wind.
The term “Gypsy” (more commonly Gipsy in English until recently) originated in the early 17th Century and derives from gypcian, a Middle English dialectic word meaning “Egyptian“. Of course, the Roma to whom the term has pejoratively and inappropriately been applied were of Indian ancestry rather than North African. The term is generally considered offensive when referring to itinerant ethnic groups and so there is a pressing need to find new names for a range of plants and animals – Gypsy Wort, Gypsy Ant, and, of course, the Gypsy Moth.
I wonder whether the entomologists would consider calling L. dispar the “Dusky Underwing”. I don’t think that name has been used for another member of the Lepidoptera. The male of the species has a passing resemblance to the Catocala species, such as the Red Underwing and the Dark Crimson Underwing at least while their hindwings are not exposed. And, there are many other unrelated “underwing” moths, such as the various and diverse yellow underwings, orange underwing, straw underwing and the black underwing (now usually known as the Old Lady and previously the Grave Brocade). #TeamMoth #MothsMatter
Forgive me, I thought I was writing a new blog article but when I looked at the one I did when I saw L. dispar in the garden for the first time in 2020, I seem to have repeated myself.
I have been mothing in earnest since the summer of 2018 and have seen and photographed almost 400 species in that time. It feels like a lot, but there are some 1800 or so species we might see in The British Isles, although not all of them will be present in a Cambridgeshire garden.
Buff Arches was new in the garden in 2019
I keep a detailed record of what I see and report into the County Moth Recorder at the end of the season. Usually, there are a few new species to add to the growing list each year. 2021 does not feel like the numbers nor diversity have been as high as they were in the previous three seasons, but I have noted several new and interesting species attracted to the actinic light of the scientific moth trap and to pheromone lures (previously, I used a lure for the Emperor moth, but this year, bought a set of lures for Clearwing moths and the Hornet moth, and was successful with several of those species.
Regular readers will hopefully be well aware by now that I got bitten by the mothing bug three years ago. Mrs Sciencebase spotted an enormous Copper Underwing in the garden and we were both fascinated by its size and its markings.
Poplar Hawk-moth
A friend in the village had previously offered to lend me his scientific moth trap with its UV tube and so I gave him a call and he said he would set it up that night in his garden. I could come to see what had turned up the next morning (24th July 2018). There were lots of moths in there with some weird and wonderful names – Angle Shades, Poplar Hawk-moth, Willow Beauty, Dark Arches, Burnished Brass, Ruby Tiger, Buff Ermine…the list goes on.
Elephant Hawk-moth
I was hooked and took the trap home and have been “lighting up” ever since. My “tick list” is fast approaching 400 moth species. I’ve photographed them all at least once and some of them several times. You can see my latest moth photos on the Sciencebase Instagram along with my other nature photos and other stuff. My ticklist is on my Imaging Storm website along with an archive of the Lepidoptera photos.
Six-spot Burnet
They do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but you cannot deny that the insect world is beautiful and nowhere more so, in my opinion than in the realm of the Lepidoptera. Incidentally, butterflies are just one group within Lepidoptera, on the same branch of the family tree as the so-called micro moths, in fact.
My Mothematics Gallery can be found on my Imaging Storm photography site along with other invertebrates, flora and fauna, etc. I’ve written about several of the species I’ve seen for various outlets, but haven’t yet got around to adding all of the links to this list #bearwith
Incidentally, the title of this blog post was alluding to the 1975 song by Hal David (words) and Albert Hammond (music) – To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before – from Hammond’s album of that year 99 Miles from L.A. You might also know it from the 1984 cover version by Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson.
As the name of the Toadflax Brocade moth might suggest, its purported larval foodplant is toadflax, which could one of dozens of Linaria plant species. The “brocade” refers to the patterning on the wings of the moth, which might to a fanciful entomologist remind one of a heavy fabric interwoven with a rich, raised design.
Toadflax Brocade, the blur of the wings down to it vibrating them pre-flight
Anyway, we saw a solitary larva of this species on our garden waste bin a couple of years ago, I blogged it at the time. Two summers later and an adult finally made an appearance in the scientific trap last night, drawn to the 40 Watt actinic UV tube. There were a few dozen other moths in the trap, all ones that have put in several appearances over the summer weeks. It’s been a mad year in this part of Vice County 29, far fewer moths seen in far lower numbers than in the heady days of the summer of 2019.
Toadflax Brocade moth
That was my first full season with the trap and one sultry night had almost 500 specimens of more than 100 species to count and catalogue before freeing into the undergrowth some way away from the trap site. At the time of writing, 25 species new for the garden so far in 2021. There’s still plenty of time for something special to arrive, still hoping to see December Moths later in the year, of course!
Larva next to purple toadflax
According to the UK Moths site: “As a resident species, this moth is restricted to the south-east and central southern coasts of England, where it frequents mainly shingle beaches. It is a relatively recent colonist, arriving around 1950 and quickly gaining a foothold, but appears to be now in decline again.”
Purple Toadflax
Its scientific name is Calophasia lunula which hints at a heat phase and perhaps the moon-like quality of some of its wing marking…but that’s just a guess and Peter Marren doesn’t seem to mention the scientific binomial in his excellent book Emperors, Admirals & Chimney Sweepers. Actually, I recall now, a lunula is a crescent moon marking, like the white at the base of one’s fingernails. Also refers to a Bronze Age necklace.
