Forget butterflies with their ‘look at me, I said, LOOK AT ME’ wings,
moths are where it’s at.
Its ten o’clock Saturday night when normal people are either
at home shouting at the telly, or outside a pub falling over. Instead, I’m in a
small tree-lined clearing, watching a man I’ve never met paint a cocktail of
treacle, ale and rum onto the bark of a silver birch.
A short while later, illuminated only by the fading glow of
my Pound Shop torch, I find myself skimming tall grasses with a butterfly net.
My conspirators, a hotchpotch of middle-aged strangers, are lost in their own
identical rituals.
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| Moth trapping is where it's at |
We move quietly through the dark hushed landscape, through a
tunnel of low-slung branches, towards a bright light, illuminating clouds of long-legged
insects who dance around it feverishly. The light dazzles us. We kneel before
it, shielding our eyes, peeping out between parted fingers.
It’s Summer Moth Night at Ryton Pools, my local country
park, and I’m here on a promise – to spot 40 species in one night. The light is
a mercury vapour bulb, set squarely in the middle of a sturdy wooden box, or
‘moth trap,’ and it’s calling to the thousands of night fliers at large tonight.
The rum-laced emulsion is to lure those insects prone to a tipple, and the nets
are to catch any hapless moths dislodged by our clumsy movements.
The last week of July is the
week to spot moths, assures my guide. Add to that we’ve had a crazy hot spell
(which makes moths hatch), and a ridiculously cold winter (which rids
hibernating pupae of unwelcome parasites), and we’re apparently in for a bumper
night.
Forget your flashy butterflies with their ‘I’m over here,
look at me, aren’t I lovely? I SAID LOOK AT ME!’ wing patterns, moths are where
it’s at. They’re categorised as either ‘big’ (macro) or ‘little’ (micro).
Macro-moths have classy Victorian names, such as ‘The Smoky Wainscot’ or ‘The Scarce Footman,’ and colour schemes straight out of a Laura Ashley catalogue.
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| The Elephant Hawk |
The Garden Tiger, for example, dares to sport blue spots on an orange background, whilst
the Elephant Hawk wears a furry gilet of fuchsia pink and green. Micro-moths,
affectionately known as LBJ’s (Little Brown Jobs) may be small and dowdy, but
there are more than a 1000 different species in Britain. Macro-moth species
number in excess of 800. To put it in context, there are just 59 species of British
butterfly. Take that, you gaudy attention-seeking popinjays.
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| The Clouded Pantaloon |
The goal then is to name check as many different moths as
possible. The team have set up ten traps around the 100 acre country park, and
as we lift the lid on the first one, it’s clear we’re not going to be
disappointed.
Crouching in front of it, experts and spectators turn into
excited, happy children, ooh-ing and aah-ing as they pop their bounty into tiny
jars and pass them round. The first trap boasts July Highflyers, Ruby Tigers,
Pale Emeralds, Ghosts, Geometers, Snouts, and more. The names are so esoteric,
we’re not sure if the ‘experts’ are making them up. Is there really a moth
called The Small Fanfooted Wave? How about the Dark Barred Twinspot Carpet? The
Clouded Pantaloon? These are the names of indie bands, not insects, surely?
Moths are identified, catalogued, then respectfully let go,
unharmed. We tot up over a dozen species in the first trap alone. By 11.30pm,
we’ve clocked up 34 species and we’re only on trap number 3. The beauties just
keep on coming. Drinker moths with their hairy, Denis Healey eyebrows, a Burnished Brass with its diaphanous taffeta wings, and a canny Yellowtail who
played dead so convincingly I was about to offer him last rights.
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| A Spangled Pie Carpet takes a fancy to an avid moth-er |
By midnight, we’ve notched up 48 species and there are still
three traps to go. Local moth expert Bob Cox is pinning his hopes on the Privet Hawk, a moth the size of a sparrow that hisses like a astonished snake and
sports pink and black go-faster stripes. How much would I love to see one of
those?
The mood has melted into one of camaraderie and enthusiastic geek-iness.
The wardens and fellow moth trappers are my friends. We’re having a lovely
evening, and it doesn’t involve shouting or falling over. Moth-trapping is cool, and moths
are (in the words of my five year old) ‘awesome’. I peel off to rescue the
baby-sitter, dreaming of Privet Hawks and Spangled Pie Carpets…. Maybe next time….
Follow Ranger Ted @countryparks.... he knows a thing or two.
