When I was a child a song about two moths living in an old coat was pretty popular. It was only later when I discovered the prickly odor of mothballs and understood who it was that was responsible for the holes in my clothes. Then I understood that the moths Charlotte and Bas, who had set up house in the coat of Dorus, a Dutch entertainer from the Sixties, were not loved by everybody: moths were at all cost to be banned from wardrobes.

In Dutch moths are also called ‘nocturnal butterflies’, as they are active in the night. It is a more positive name, being associated with butterflies (the frivolous and cheerful insects that roam from flower to flower whilst getting drunk on their nectar). Only a very small number of moths love to eat clothes, especially those made of wool. There are moths who do not even have mouths to eat with!

A wardrobe is only a very tiny dark corner of the world of the moths, that is huge and colourful. Know this: the empire of the moths is responsible for one of the world’s finest fabrics: silk. The caterpillars Bombyx Mori, silk moths, have probably given the world more meters of fabric than other moths have ever eaten. 

Some time ago here on Lesvos a moth appeared next to my front door: an Emperor moth (Saturnia pavonia), some tens of centimetres in length, was not only big, but also had an impressive hairy, scary body. Just then I realised that the Dorus’ song must have been about the most boring of the moth family: Common clothes moth (Tineola bisselliella) or about the Case-bearing clothes moth (Tinea pellionella) and that an old coat is not the natural habitat for all moths. Most of them prefer to sit in undergrowth, or on wooden doors or wooden outdoor ceilings – where for days they can sit motionless, waiting for a partner. They allow the world just a short time to enjoy their beauty (1 to 2 weeks), because many will leave for the afterlife once having fulfilled their duty of reproduction.   

Having such a short life, moths never had a big role in Greek mythology. But some of the Emperor moths have connection to some of the Greek divine folklore, thanks to their names.

The Antheraea polyphemus, a stunning moth with a remarkable eye on its hinter wings. This beauty has been named after the one-eyed giant, the cyclops Polyphemus, made famous because Odysseus and his crew ended up in his cave. The Greek hero needed good tricks to get out of the mess. He and his men finally managed to escape after they blinded the cyclops Polyphemus and then escaped the cave by clinging to the underside of his sheep’s bellies.  

Callosamia promethea was named after Prometheus, even though it is not entirely clear what this silk moth had in common with the Greek hero who stole fire from the Gods to give to the humans. Maybe because in the classic art Prometheus often appears in scenes with a deep red color, as red as the robes of the Callosamia promethea females, who, with this sexy color try to seduce the males that are as black as the night.

The Automeris io has been named after a priestess of a temple of Hera. Zeus fell in love with Io and in order to protect her against the wrath of his wife Hera, he changed her into a white cow. However, the female Automeris io is as red as a red cow, while the males are yellow with some red patches. Here the connection is difficult to find. 

Then there is also the American Moon Moth, the Actias luna, named after the Roman moon goddess Luna (the Greek one is named Selena). Significant for this beautiful moth are its hinter wings that end in a kind of tail: more a comet than a moon. 

Last week I got a nice surprise when a Green Army Moth landed on the wooden ceiling of my terrace: a Daphnis nerii. It stayed there for some days, not daring to move because of my cats. It was fantastically patterned in abstract forms with military camouflage, as if it came straight from the battle grounds in the Ukraine. 

Lesvos, being rich with trees and flowers is certainly a Valhalla for butterflies and moths, even though moths, because of their nightlife, are more difficult to come across. Sometimes you get lucky with the sighting of an initially scary insect, that after a more careful look, you realise it is a fascinating beauty, like this arty army moth. I wonder by whom it got seduced last night, because this morning the army moth was gone. Probably away with a partner, into the blue sky.