Celebrating winged insects
WHY is it that British moths, the (largely) nocturnal counterparts of our beloved and recognisable butterflies, are so poorly known – even scorned – by so many? It routinely surprises me how few of my birding friends have an interest in moths, even when they possess a passing intrigue in other non-birdy creatures (butterflies being the obvious comparison) during the ‘slower’ birding seasons. Especially as, with around 2,500 species of moth in Britain (compared to just tens of butterflies), there is plenty to keep a ‘moth-er’ occupied, year after year.
Author James Lowen freely admits in the opening pages of his new book, Much Ado About Mothing, that he was a ‘moth denier’ just a decade ago. But the intervening 10 years have seen him undergo a dramatic transformation from disinterested to utterly intoxicated by these challenging yet engaging creatures. Who better, then, to convince a wider audience that moths are worth paying attention to?
Travelling the length and breadth of the British Isles, Lowen completed a ‘big moth year’ in 2018. Unlike big years for birds, butterflies or orchids, where the aim is invariably to see as many species as possible, he focused on finding and documenting some of our rarest and most unusual moths, each with its own unique story to tell. Much Ado About Mothing chronicles this offbeat and fascinating adventure.
Lowen covers a wide range of moth-ing activities, some routine and others more extreme. From the familiar comfort of his own garden, where he bonded with his daughter, Maya, over “candypink” Elephant Hawkmoths, to long-distance, sleepless forays to Cornwall, the Scottish Highlands and just about everywhere in between, the book showcases the lengths that a moth-er can go to in order to sate their appetite for our nocturnal Lepidoptera. I can only imagine how exhausted he must have been by November!
Lowen’s writing is entertaining, packed with descriptive prose and fascinating facts about his quarry. It’s not all plain sailing, though, for with the highs come the lows: efforts are sometimes hampered by poor weather, while there are regular reminders of just how poorly many moths are faring in our intensively managed countryside. On the upside, as the chapter on finding clearwings shows, there is still much to celebrate. Some species are proving much more widespread than previously thought as observer coverage increases and detection methods become more sophisticated.
Lowen’s mad dashes around the British countryside are at the feverish end of the moth-ing spectrum and, as he points out, moth trapping generally makes for “gloriously lazy wildlife watching”. It is this accessibility which makes moths the perfect tool to get any would-be naturalist hooked; in Lowen’s words: “no animals may be better placed to inspire the environmentalists of the future”.
I thoroughly recommend allcomers to pick up a copy of Much Ado About Mothing and let Lowen show you that moths are deserving of anybody’s attention. I fully anticipate that this book will inspire a new wave of moth-ers of all ages and from all backgrounds to spring up across our isles – and that can only be a good thing. Josh Jones