Finally! At long last! Calm and warm, no rain predicted; promising conditions for the first moth night of summer, a prospect producing prickles of excitement. They speculate about parallel planes, those quantum physicists. Separate universes existing a hairsbreadth apart, totally unknown to one another. That’s what our world must be to moths, and vice versa. They’re tiny and nocturnal; we’re daytime giants. But using the mesmerizing mechanics of light, we can peek into their realm, their reality, and get to know a bit about one of the most fascinating families of insects on Planet Earth.
Dennis gets the moth traps out of the shed, plastic tubs outfitted with extension cords, special lightbulbs and egg cartons for moths to flutter down among and hide. A mouse wriggled into one trap during the winter and made a cozy nest. Dennis cleans out the chewed-up debris, scrubs the tub, puts in layers of fresh cartons, and the traps are ready to go—one out front by the lilacs, one in the woods behind the house and one in a fiddlehead-fern forest in a neighbour’s backyard. Switched on at twilight, they glow seductively through the darkness, drawing light-loving creatures in the winged stage of their life cycle.
A favourite part of moth day for me is collecting the tubs at first light, as sleepy birds wake up and start to sing. Wrens, thrushes, cardinals, chickadees… A loon is calling as it flies over on its way to some far-off northern lake. Hearing that is worth a few mosquito bites, the first of the year around here.
We have the driveway set up, with table, chairs, clear plastic pill containers, moth books and checklists, by the time Phill Holder, our mothing buddy, arrives, a bit late because of road construction and rush-hour traffic. And then comes Christmas in June as we open the tubs, lifting out each carton in turn to see what moths might be sheltering there. On cool mornings they’re docile, but as the day warms up they get restless, more inclined to fly away before we have a chance to identify them and carefully collect the rarest, freshest, most intriguing, most puzzling ones. And the most beautiful.
Because many moths are truly beautiful, the pattern on their scaled wings worth replicating on a Persian carpet, a medieval tapestry, an emperor’s robe. Silk, satin, velvet and even lustrous fur occur, as attractive and distracting as the differing shapes and sizes of their owners, everything from tiny long-legged caloptilias to palm-sized silkworm moths.
We had flame-shouldered darts, Virginian and Isabella tiger moths, a common swift and an honest pero that day. A connected looper was fresh and attractive, as was a cattail borer, a species we hadn’t seen for a long time. A white-ribboned carpet moth was so classy with its blue-black shoulders, creamy white band followed by an intricate lacy edge that I claimed it as my favourite. And waved it off with admiration as it fluttered away to freedom, as they all did in turn.
We’re lucky to know Phill, a brilliant Brit who immigrated to Canada with his family in the early eighties. He’s been avidly researching wildlife in our local nature reserve for more than a decade now--bats, birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians--and publishing the results. And moths, with more than 1200 identified in Thickson’s Woods so far. There’s always the chance for a new species, but coming across even common ones we haven’t seen since last summer is rewarding. What’s hatching out right now? From what host plants, in what part of the reserve? I recognize familiar shapes, patterns and colours lots more than I remember names, so there’s always a steep re-learning curve as moth season begins.
Phill is halfway through writing, compiling photos and publishing a four-volume guide to all the moths of Ontario, along with mothing friends and experts David Beadle and Mike King. A great resource for anyone wishing to delve into the mysterious moth universe we live so near.
Pretty little night flyers aren't they! Thanks for the article.
Fascinating! Beautiful photos too. Thank you.