Every time I see a monarch butterfly flutter past, I get a rush of happy nostalgia. But the nostalgia quickly turns into sadness for two reasons – sadness for my favorite brother, Michael, who died in his sleep 13 years ago; and sadness that monarchs might become extinct some day.
In our grade-school years, Michael and I loved monarch butterflies so much we read books and articles about them every chance we got. One day, we decided to start a “Monarch Farm.”
First we obtained three of those huge glass pickle jars. Then we walked down to the Red Fox woods about a half mile from our south St. Cloud home. There, we found hundreds of milkweeds growing just about everywhere. We looked under the milkweed leaves for little tiny white dots – the dots being the eggs that were laid by monarchs. Then we gathered a whole bunch of the egg leaves, along with extra leaves and stems. We put them in a grocery bag and brought them home to put them in the big jars with air holes punched in the jar lids.
Then we waited and waited. Impatiently waited . . .
Even though we’d seen the monarch metamorphosis in books and movies, nothing prepared us for the sheer wonder of what we were about to see, up close, personal.
One day, I heard Michael shout from his bedroom: “Hey, come here and look! One of ‘em hatched!”
And sure enough. There it was – a little teeny tiny caterpillar, squirming on the leaf, his head going side to side rapidly, chewing, chewing, chewing. That tiny greenish critter ate so fast we could almost see it grow before our very eyes. It went through many visual changes until finally, about a week later, it had morphed into a plump caterpillar with yellow, white and black stripes.
The next stage was the eeriest thing we’d ever seen. We watched, our mouths gaping wide open, as the caterpillar attached itself upside down to one of the leaves, and then it began to twist and wiggle as its skin began to split open, and finally after more frantic contortions, the skin fell off and what remained looked like a jiggling wiggling blob of snot.
The next stage was one of the most beautiful things we’d ever seen. We watched in hushed awe as that icky-looking snot blob quite quickly morphed into a waxy jade-green chrysalis with a few gleaming gold dots on it.
And, finally, days later, in the last stage, we held our breaths every time we’d check on the jars. The jade-green chrysalis turned purplish, and we could discern the monarch colors within. At last, a wimpy-looking monarch emerged and moved its wings to fill them with body fluid as the wings got bigger, more vividly colorful, more beautiful.
Michael and I sat there breathless, proud of our monarch-nurturing. Then, alas, it was time to say goodbye. We opened the bedroom window and let that first monarch flutter away, up into the blue sky. In the coming days, five or six of “our” monarchs emerged to fly away, heading south for their long migration.
In the coming late summers, we “raised” more monarchs in our “Monarch Farm.” And every year we watched that metamorphosis, hour after hour, the process was just as strange, amazing and beautiful as the first time we witnessed it. Every child should have the chance to see that process in person.
Which brings me back to my second monarch sadness: Will there even be any monarchs left to amaze future kids? In just three decades, the monarch population has declined by 90 percent. Why? The use of pesticides and croplands and developments that doom milkweed plants so essential for monarchs’ survival. Also, milkweed are often purposely eradicated from fields, lots and yards as noxious weeds. It’s a shame they have the word “weed” in their name; better to say milkplant.
What can we do?
- Don’t use pesticides in your yard.
- Help save grasslands by joining organizations that promote grassland-protection.
- Support the Highway Habitat Corridor program, which encourages planting of milkweed and nectar plants along the monarchs’ migratory flyways and in their breeding grounds along key Midwest and Texas corridors.
- Plant milkweed in yard or garden.
- Create a monarch habitat.
To find out more about those tips, visit the excellent website of the National Wildlife Federation: nwf.org. Then type in “Monarchs.” Also, consider becoming a member of the NWF. It’s a wonderful organization – and not just for the beloved monarchs. We can all help save the monarch from extinction if we make our minds up to act now.
