Before Buxton Museum and Art Gallery’s closure this summer there was a display drawer of Hawk Moths in the Wonders of the Peak Gallery, a small indicator that we have a larger collection.
Hawk moths are some of the UK’s most impressive looking insects, and despite their exotic appearance are relatively common.
Look up the Elephant-Hawk Moth caterpillar, it can often be seen on the ground, searching for fallen leaves in which to pupate, its large form and eye pattern could trick you into thinking you’ve come face to face with a snake. Once it appears from its cocoon it dons a tropical plumage of olive green and cerise pink. I say plumage because these hawk moths do indeed appear bird like- and wonderfully furry! The Eyed- Hawk Moth is camouflaged as bark on the fruit trees it feeds off, but when disturbed it exposes its hind wings, revealing a pair of dark blue threatening eyes. And the huge and spectacular Emperor moth has two pairs of peacock- like eye-spots. Have you ever seen a Hummingbird Hawk Moth? As its namesake suggests it could catch you out into thinking you have a bird from the tropics feeding on your garden buddleia. All are masters of deception and attraction.
But moths are not popular creatures like butterflies. They’re out to eat our clothes, aren’t they? So we zap, swat and waft them out from our homes. Out of the 2,500 moth species in the UK only two types of moth – more precisely their larvae- damage our textiles. Yet us humans rarely afford them the reverence we give to butterflies. We think of them as a butterflies’ ghostly cousin, drawn out from the shadows into lamp light, conjuring up images of the underworld, every bit the night to butterflies’ day.
But none are demonised like Acherontia Atropos, the Death’s Head Hawk Moth. With its gloomy mottled cloak like wings in black and tan, its bee-striped body, and infamous skull-like markings on its thorax, it is a rare visitor from the continent. As a caterpillar it can devour a whole potato plant in one feed, and as an adult it mimics the scent of honeybees and raids their hives without fear of attack -to eat the honey. With its unforgettable appearance and a massive wingspan of 15cm no moth is as striking.
No moth is as sinister as this. Its reputation predates its name; in Greek mythology Acheron was the river of pain in the underworld and Atropos cut the thread of life. The Death Hawk Moth features in Dracula as Renfield’s favourite snack. In the film Silence of the Lambs its pupae is left as a calling card in the throat of the murder victims of Buffalo Bill.
Artists, writers, and film makers have long used this moth as a symbol of ill omen, doom and death; Salvador Dali, Holman Hunt, Peter Greenaway, John Keats and Edgar Allen Poe to name a few.
In the past European superstitions were rife; the people of Brittany feared this hawk moth, its appearance warned of illness and pestilence, and in other parts of France to touch this moth would cause blindness. In Hungary, it was believed that if this moth entered the home, a death was sure to follow. And in Italy and Germany its squeak- yes it squeals when distressed– was thought to be audible sound of death itself!
This moth became the stuff of folklore.
So, in 1801, when Acherontia fluttered into the bed chamber of the already unstable King George III, it sent waves of panic through the royal house, and the King, thinking the end was neigh, fell into a frenzy of fear. It wasn’t quite the end for King George, but he was never the same again.
Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has two cabinets of mainly British moths and butterflies. We have little to no information as to how they came into our hands. In 2015 collections officer Claire Miles ensured they received decontamination treatment at the Entomology Department at Manchester Museum. She also wrote a blog on the collection (still available on this website) and appealed for more information. She ascertained that the collection appears to be that of one individual, C. S. Gleave. The pins which hold the moths’ bodies in place also hold a label which states the collector, and when and where the insect was captured. Many were captured in Urmston and Trafford in the 1930’s and are native to the UK. There are a few migrants amongst the collection, such as the Camberwell beauty from Scandinavia, which occasionally makes an appearance on the east coast of the UK, is not known to survive the winter or breed here in the UK.
The label on the Death’s Hawk Moth states it was bred in Chichester in 1901. I presume C. S. Gleave purchased it to complete the drawer of hawk moths for the collection.
Buxton Museum and Art Gallery 