Saving Just One Monarch Butterfly
Much to my horror, and the horror of most of us, the monarch butterfly was put on the endangered species list this year. I live on 40 acres in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas, and we had a heck of a drought this year on top of that. Hardly anything grew, and hardly any of the wildflowers that normally cover this area bloomed this spring. A tough year for butterflies. Also, for birds and every kind of wildlife, but especially for the delicate little beauties that bring grace and joy everywhere they go.
While hardly anything else grew, my land was littered with hardy milkweed plants, and I’ve seen a few monarchs and swallowtails here in past years, so I had hope that my land would contribute to the continuation of this essential species. Because, here’s the thing. The monarchs are just the first. If we lose them, we not only lose their beauty and uniqueness forever, but they’re also poisonous for birds and other butterfly predators to eat. A dozen or more other butterfly species evolved to look like them so they’d be safe from predators. If we lose the monarchs, it’s only a matter of time before we lose the queens and the viceroys and all the other beautiful monarch imitators. Like a lot of things, if you let one thing go, then you lose so much more than you expected.
My land, in particular, has always been a happy home for queens, one of the prettiest monarch imitators in my completely arbitrary opinion. One of the reasons for that is the lowly cowpen daisy, a hardy wildflower that I saw blooming at about knee high among the dry brush even in the midst of the drought. In my back yard, where I provide extra water and some occasional compost, the cowpen daisies get taller than me and put on a myriad of flowers that bloom until first frost. Not just the butterflies, but bees, moths, and every other pollinator for miles are drawn to them.
One of my favorite pastimes in the fall, when my back yard is full of some of the only flowers for acres … is to chase butterflies. Yup. I’m a techie through and through who loves talking shop about data management and analytics architectures, but show me a bunch of flowers and butterflies and I’m ten years old again. I bought a new phone a few months back, just so I could take better pictures of my lovely visitors.
Despite watching for them all year, I didn’t see a single monarch until just a few weeks ago, then I started seeing more and more until my back yard was full of them. My yard has the best nectar flowers for miles, I imagine, and all those monarchs busy flying south for the winter, stopped by for some rest and food. And, to get their picture taken, of course, surrounded by their pretty queen butterfly cousins.
Two days ago, a cold front came through, and most of the monarchs vanished, flying further south looking for warmer climates. But one monarch got caught. He was clinging to the screen of my bedroom window when the cold front came through. It rained all night, and all the next day, a very welcome inch and a quarter according to my rain gauge.
This morning, he was still there, clinging to my screen while the sky was filled with clouds and the temperature hadn’t made it above 50 degrees even at 10 AM. I realized he’d been there for nearly 48 hours in the cold with no food. Butterflies can’t fly until it warms up enough for their wings to work. I went out and got him, very carefully, and brought him inside where it was 72 degrees and I had a few potted daisies sitting by the window.
At first, his little legs barely moved enough to grab onto a daisy where I put him, but he immediately started poking at the nectar-filled flower with his little proboscis. After a while, he walked over to another flower. After a while, he fluttered his wings, and flew to another flower. I only have a few daisies inside, not enough to keep such a big butterfly happy for long. Plus, monarchs need to fly south about now, or they won’t live on to make little butterflies next year.
I googled how warm it had to be for butterflies to fly, about 65 degrees for most butterflies, but monarchs can fly when it’s just 55 degrees. So, I let him sip nectar from my limited supply of daisies for a few hours while the world warmed up. When he tried to fly out the closed window, and the temperature was at 56 outside, I knew it was time. I caught him, gently, careful not to damage his wings, took him out in my back yard, and watched him fly away.
It’s a long way to the monarch winter resting places in Mexico, but I hope he makes it. At least, I gave him some food and warmth for a few hours before he continued his journey.
It was an amazingly good feeling, even though I know monarchs are still an endangered species. Helping, or even maybe saving the life, of one little butterfly is a drop in a really big ocean. It breaks my heart that I live in a world where monarch butterflies might die out, and I can’t do anything about that on the large scale. But I helped one butterfly. That’s what I can do, so that’s what I did.
It occurred to me that it’s a little like the same hope I had when I cast my vote early a few days ago. I live in a world where children are gunned down at school or the local Wal-Mart, where a woman with an ectopic pregnancy has to flee my state or face death, where my dear friends and family live in fear of their lives because they’re different from many others. The world is filled with big problems that I can’t fix. But I can cast one vote. That’s what I can do, so that’s what I did.
