Wednesday 15 April 2015

Moth Night


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.


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. 

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.

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.


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.