Maybe the hard frost on the seventeenth put an end to it, but at least through Saturday the fourteenth I was seeing quite a few monarch butterflies… never as many as I’d like, but gratifyingly more than I’d expected.
*It’s late in the season, and probably late in their lives, and some are clearly struggling. The one that lit right in front of me on the Letchworth Trail last month had a corner of one wing missing. One that flew in front of my car in Canisteo seemed struggling to stay aloft, and so have some of those I’ve seen in Bath.
*But the one I saw at Mossy Bank Park appeared in fine fettle, and so did the ongoing stream that crossed Post Road in Hartsville every few minutes, bound for the south’ard.
*Monarchs are one of our most recognizable butterflies, rivaled in that respect only by the eastern tiger swallowtail, which is (usually) a bright yellow trimmed with black. The monarch is orange, veined and trimmed with black, and both butterflies are big. They’re probably the first butterflies most kids learn to recognize, and for many folks may be the only ones that they learn through their lives.
*Monarch life is one of nature’s greatest sagas. Those heading south now will, if they survive, make it (on paper-thin wings) across the ocean to Mexico, Cuba, or other warm climes to spend the winter. As bright-leaved spring comes on they will make their way back toward us… but in many cases, will never arrive. Along their way they lay eggs, mostly on milkweed. They hatch as larvae, pupate, and emerge as butterflies. Then they take up the journey, making their way north.
*A round trip may take four generations.
*Since thousands over overwinter in small concentrated areas, monarchs are in grave danger from habitat destruction. The loss of a few acres could mean a population collapse.
*A few months ago, stopping at the I-390 rest area near Mount Morris, I noticed a sign pointing to a monarch butterfly garden. I strolled over in that direction, and the result might have been choreographed by a movie director… “All right, action, enter, walking walking walking – cue the monarch!” Just as I reached the garden a monarch flew straight up to eye level, directly in front of me.
*This garden is part of a joint project between Seneca Park Zoo and the state Department of Transportation. The Zoo has a “Butterfly Beltway” program helping people maintain their gardens so as to encourage butterflies. The highway project leads to planting and mowing being done in such a way as to make a safe flyway for the fall migration.
*Monarchs are one of the finest creatures on God’s earth. They do no one the slightest bit of harm – their larvae even eat plant species such as milkweed, which are generally rated as pests. Sighting a monarch always creates a moment of beauty and joy. My wife and I are still awe-struck by the singular time, some years ago, when 800 monarchs passed over us, heading south, along Mitchellsville Road near Bath.
*As a young boy in Rhode Island I caught butterflies in our back yard, using a net made by my uncle with mesh sewn by my aunt. I put them into jars (lent by my mother) with some grasses, and covered the jars with aluminum foil in which I poked air holes with a fork. I looked to see if I could find them in “The First Book of Butterflies,” given to me by my parents. And very very soon, I set them free. Some of them were monarchs, perhaps the ancestors of those I see here and now, 220 generations removed. Good for you, D.O.T. Good for you, Seneca Park Zoo. A monarch is a little flash of glory. There’s nothing like it in the world.