The phantom female
In the enigmatic realm of moths, even amateurs can make unexpected discoveries, as James Lowen learnt one spring.
Our shaking hands took the first ever photographs of a wild female.
Among conservation experts striving to save the nationally endangered marsh moth, “the Holy Grail is to find a female”, explained Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust reserve manager Matthew Blissett one blustery May evening.
The last – perhaps only – time that anyone encountered a female marsh moth in Britain, World War II had barely ended. Since then – and despite 30 years of surveys – only males and caterpillars of indeterminate gender had been found. Females presumably did exist but they were chimeras. My friend Will and I, both amateur moth enthusiasts, stood no chance of finding one.
I was visiting Lincolnshire to research a book about moths, and Will and I had offered to help Matthew keep tabs on one of the country’s two remaining marsh moth colonies. But with a squally night forecast on the coastal dune slacks of Saltfleetby– Theddlethorpe reserve, we suspected that spotting even one male might be pushing it.
As dusk coagulated the skies, we turned on the lights of our moth traps. Surprisingly, given the wind and chilly air, hundreds of moths were soon drawn to investigate. Their number included dozens of bubblegum-pink small elephant hawk-moths. But no marsh moths appeared.
As the clock struck midnight, we started to flag. Then an urgent cry jumpstarted my tiring body: “Marsh moth!”
A male was scuttling along the ground beside one trap. Unlike the hawk-moths, he was no eye candy, being brown with browner bits. Within seconds, our joy multiplied. Two more males were circling through the herb-rich sward. They were orbiting the stem of a ribwort plantain – as if this common-orgarden plant held some irresistible attraction.
As, indeed, it did. Enthroned atop the plant’s oval flowerhead was a smaller, darker and unfamiliar form. “Is that…?” Will gulped, “Is that… a female?”
It was. Barely able to process what we were witnessing, our shaking hands took the first-ever photographs of a wild female marsh moth in Britain. Against all odds, this particular Holy Grail was indisputably real. In the mysterious world of moths, even amateurs can do good.