My Dad used to enjoy quoting the proverb: "March comes in like a roaring lion, and goes out like a little lamb." This year, March has come in like a rather damp lamb, but its mildness persuaded (a) me to put the trap out last night and (b) the moths to visit it.
The nicest was the male Pale Brindled Beauty, above, who would have been roaming our garden in search of the sadly flightless female of the species which scurries around on tree trunks when the weather is mild between January and March. Maybe his splendid antennae help in such searches, although scent is the great lure which female moths use to attract males.
Otherwise, the eggboxes contained a nine-strong meeting of Common Quakers, all of them oblivious to the Pale Brindled Beauty's worldly charms. Every single one was sound asleep in one of the many little crevices, nooks and cones which eggboxes provide. A slumbering assembly of Snugglepots and Cuddlepies. Remember them? If not, read more here.
Ten is a manageable number to photograph (and, I hope, examine), so here they all are:
|This one is already damaged, though otherwise looking nice and new|
|Note the flexibility of moths' wings; a night folded like this will|
not affect their shape or effectiveness once the insect wakes up