The Ranger Diaries

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Forgotten Pollinators

A swarm of fungi has ascended. Shaggy inkcaps, yellow fieldcaps, waxcaps, fairy rings of powdercaps and even beefsteak. Amphibians can be found under every other log, rock and leaf pile and glimpses of brown hares in winter moult, moving into the woodland for refuge. This is one of my best-loved times of the year to be a ranger.

As the summer months have drawn to a close, the early autumn season has dictated much pond management work and the building or preserving of hibernacula around the site, ready to coax in some overwintering amphibious beings. Recently I’ve had numerous chance-meetings with wildlife - newts, toads, rodents in need of rescue, a caterpillar that needed carrying home and even a Goshawk flyover. But working for the National Trust I had the opportunity last month to pay a visit to the Wallington site in Northumberland to check out the progress of a very special, locally reintroduced species.

A great crested newt oozing charisma. Photo credit @ Tim Cassidy.

Three blind mice.

An elephant hawk-moth caterpillar rescued from the road.

What it will look like in adult form after pupation. An image I took back in 2020.

In July this year, Northumberland became home to a family of beavers for the first time in around 400 years, a momentous occasion thanks to a lot planning and a robust reintroduction program. The family of four swiftly got to work within their expansive enclosure and in the space of just two months had established several dams from branches, mud, rocks and willow and have already begun to transform the landscape in slowing water flow, thus creating still water habitat over flood plains and the restoration of wet woodland. To see their craft at first hand was a real privilege and to witness a keystone species bounce back (albeit with some help) after being hunted to extinction is truly incredible. With a bit of luck, this is just the beginning for beavers in the region.

Beaver-gnawed tree. You love to see it.

Beaver-dammed landscape is back in Northumberland.

Since my last post back in July, the garden has been chock-a-block with wildlife. The female leafcutters have been going about their work relentlessly, cramming the holes in the wooden hive with pollen and nectar for their young who will develop over winter before hatching next year. Foxes, badgers and southern hawker dragonflies have frequented, we have had migrating geese flybys and for the first time the occasional grey wagtail, picking off invertebrates amongst the grass. Due to the ever presence of common frogs, palmate newts and common toads, I have added a second pond and hibernaculum to the mix. Next year should be a good one! Slowly but surely, the garden is being turned into a humble haven for wildlife.

A leafcutter bee taking a well-earned rest in the sun.

Frogs love the warmer, shallow areas of the pond.

Large female toad found in a damp area of the garden.

Now, few admire a bee or butterfly more than I do. I am generally obsessed with all aspects of nature. I even have a course on UK leeches coming up, for example. But there is no hiding from the fact that when we hear the word pollinator, we automatically are drawn to imagery of bees and butterflies. They are seen as gentle, beautiful, some may say cute and vastly important to plant pollination and the environment in general. All true of course.

That does not however mean that they should get to hog all of the limelight though. There are many more pollinators at work, some just not quite as brazen.

Wasps, flies, beetles and moths can all be just as brilliant at the pollinating game, yet they are often forgotten, disregarded or even detested. Without wasps, our ecosystems would be further imbalanced and our gardens would be overrun with aphids and caterpillars. With the omission of beetles, we would be knee-deep in a combination of dung and rotten carcasses. Beetles are one of the most important organisms on the planet and have been pollinating plants for millions of years, way before bees became involved.

Earlier this year I acquired a moth trap and tasked myself with learning more about this dynamic sect of the lepidoptera order and conducting some survey work at home to determine the species present on my doorstep. A moth trap is essentially a box with a bright light to initially attract the moths, who then roost within the crevices of old egg cartons inside, before being released shortly thereafter.

There are around 2,500 moth species in Britain. There are only 59 butterfly species. I can well imagine that you would find a similar ratio in reverse if you asked members of the public which one they prefer. Little may it be known however, moths are proficient pollinators themselves.

It is worth noting that out of the 2,500 species we have here, only two are known to actually eat clothing. Even then, these moths only eat fabrics derived from animal sources such as wool, and yet as a collective all seem to be tarred with the same brush.

Perhaps we should debunk another myth while we are here. I often hear that moths aren’t as aesthetically pleasing as butterflies. Not true, you only need look above at the elephant hawk-moth in all of its pink and olive green glory to establish that. Even the somewhat duller species have incredibly intricate wing patterns and subtle shapes, easily matching those of their lepidopteran relatives. Just look at their antennae for goodness sake - feathery, comb-like structures used to amplify chemical detection in their own kin. Males are even able to detect the scent of a female through their antennae from seven miles away.

Finding 32 species in my moth trap to date, it has been absolutely fascinating to be able to take a much closer look.

A really nice find in July, the poplar hawk-moth (Laothoe populi) relies on reserves that they build up as a caterpillar as they don’t feed as an adult and only live for a few months. Adults don’t actually have a mouth!

A pristine poplar hawk-moth.

Eurasian copper underwing (centre) and large yellow underwings.

Common white wave (Cabera pusaria).

Common carpet (Epirrhoe alternata).

Flounced rustic (Luperina testacea).

Riband wave (Idaea aversata).

Maple leaftier (Acleris forsskaleana).

Spruce carpet (Hera britannica).

A black burying beetle (Nicrophorus humator) or sexton beetle, had found its way into my moth trap one night. They are known as the undertaker of the insect world.

Large yellow underwing (Noctua pronuba).

After a lot of time trying to positively ID this one, turns out it’s common name is The Uncertain!

Double-striped pug (Gymnoscelis rufifasciata).

Brimstone (Opisthograptis luteolata).

Setaceous Hebrew character (Xestia c-nigrum).

Lesser swallow prominent (Pheosia gnoma).

Centre-barred sallow (Atethmia centrago).

Large yellow underwings and a cinnamon sedge caddis fly to the left.

Scalloped oak (Crocallis elinguaria).

Stunning varieties of burnet moth, cinnabar moths and the mesmerising hummingbird hawk-moth are diurnal and can be seen on the wing during the day, and although most moths are nocturnal with the need of a trap to see, their unique beauty can not be denied. In fact, there are actually more coloured day-flying moths than there are butterflies.

It is thought that nocturnal moths are drawn to artificial light as it mimics the moonlight, to which they use for navigation and is why you often see them underneath street lamps for long periods of time. Studies suggest that night-flying moths are extremely efficient pollinators during the short hours of darkness, doing so at a much faster rate than any day-flying insects. They also pollinate plants that bees and other insects visit infrequently or can’t access, plugging very important gaps for certain flora species.

Look closely around where you live. If you don’t see any moths, this is a clear sign that the ecosystem in your local area isn’t in a healthy state as they themselves are an indicator species. By allowing scrub plants like bramble sufficient time to flower before cutting back in your garden, planting night-flowering species or allowing fallen debris to remain on the ground for caterpillars, you can potentially have a great impact on moth numbers, many of which are in decline.

All pollinators need protecting, but let us give the vastly under-appreciated moth a place of prominence in our gardens and a fair share of the pollinator spotlight.

Harmless, characterful, prepossessing and of immeasurable value.

Moths matter.