A couple of nights ago it warmed up slightly. I'm not saying it was mild, you realise. But it was enough of a hike in temperature for me to get a nocturnal visit.
And here is the little fella who decided to pop by. He's only about an inch across (about half the size it appears on your screen), and not exactly the most exotic-looking moth in the world, but you have to give credit to one that is out and about in this winter we're having.
But that is exactly what this moth is designed to do, for this is the Winter Moth. And I'd recommend that in any slightly milder burst you keep a watch at any lit window as you head to bed because Winter Moths are probably in almost every garden in the country.
We can tell he is a male because he has wings. The females he will set out to find have decided to forego the awkward encumbrance of flying apparatus and instead just have a couple of useless tufts. They can't fly; they can't hop. It makes them look like scruffy bugs, but the males don't seem to mind - well, it is dark when they meet.
It means of course that the females can't travel far from where they grew up as a caterpillar.
How this works is that the females lay their eggs now in mid winter next to leaf buds in all sorts of deciduous trees. The caterpillars hatch in spring and eat the leaves. Sometimes this is to the point of being a pest, but they are vital protein-rich mini-snacks for birds.
When those that survive are fully grown, something switches inside them telling them to get out of the trees and into the soil. Down the branches and trunk they go.
As the adults then hatch in winter, the females clamber back to whence they came, whereas the males can flutter off in search of lasses from another part of town. And all might make a nice winter snack for a passing Great Tit or Chaffinch or Treecreeper.
So there's something to be said for the humble Winter Moth - so small, yet so tough, and so vital to many a foodchain.