Learn

As a young girl growing up in the Midwest, Jenny chased the dramatic orange and black butterflies called Monarchs across her neighbors’ yards and gardens. The butterfly’s fluttering beauty always conjured a flood of happy childhood memories.

Now stationed with her husband near Santa Barbara, California, Jenny wants to share her delight with her six year-old-son, Matt. The two of them get up this chilly December morning and head for the eucalyptus grove a few miles away.

Emerging from the car into a thin veil of fog, the eucalyptus scent reminds Matt of the mentholatum his mom rubs on his chest when he has a cold. Orange and yellow colored garlands are hanging from the tree branches.

Even on this winter day, a warm breeze from the nearby Pacific Ocean ruffles through the grove and suddenly it’s as if a bucket of brilliant orange paint has been thrown into the gray mist. Thousands of Monarch butterflies are swirling around Matt and he is dazed by their beauty. Most of them quietly resettle, recreating the garlands swaying from the trees. Others head for the nearby fields and emerging sunlight to sip dew and nectar.

If it weren’t for that warm ocean breeze, the Monarch butterflies would not have been able to stage such a spectacle for Matt. They are cold blooded and need temperatures above 55 degrees Fahrenheit to fly. That’s why they are hanging in clusters, trying to keep each other warm. A lone Monarch is perched on a picnic bench, shivering in the cool air and unable to fly. Jenny shows Matt how to gently pick up the butterfly by all four wings.

She cups it in her hands very close to her mouth and breathes warm air on it. She tosses the Monarch into the air and it flies off to join the others. The clustered butterflies flap their wings, warning it not to cover them from the sunlight they need to keep warm, so our friend finds a spot in between the others and snuggles in.

All these butterflies have migrated to southern California to avoid winter in the Rocky Mountains. The Midwestern Monarchs that Jenny knew as a child, fly as far as 3000 miles to winter in the warmth of Mexico. They fly in masses and land in exactly the same areas each year, sometimes in exactly the same trees! The great mystery however, is that the migrating butterflies are the great-great-grandchildren of the butterflies that wintered there before! No one knows exactly how this incredible homing system works.

Monarchs, like other butterflies, emerge from an egg as a caterpillar and become little eating machines. But unlike other pupae, Monarch caterpillars only feed on milkweed. Milkweed has a toxin (poison) that doesn’t bother Monarchs and that they store in their bodies. Birds and other predators quickly learn that Monarch caterpillars and butterflies are off limits because the stored toxin tastes bad or makes the predator vomit. After the caterpillar has had its fill of milkweed, it spins a chrysalis, a protective covering like a cocoon.

When the magical transformation from caterpillar to butterfly is complete, the Monarch will emerge from the chrysalis, its wings crumpled and moist. It hangs from the chrysalis for several hours until its wings can unfold and dry and it is ready to fly. If the Monarch emerges during the summer months it will live about two to five weeks. If it is born in late summer or early fall, it will have to migrate south for the winter. These adults can live eight or nine months. Monarchs are the only butterflies in the world to make such a long, annual, two-way migration.

Migrating Monarchs need to bulk up for the long flight and need pit stops along the way. They fuel their bodies for flight by sipping nectar from all sorts of flowers and storing the resulting fat in their abdomens. Sometimes they can conserve “fuel” by gliding on air currents.

Unfortunately, many of the flower fields that provide nourishment on their routes are disappearing to farming, housing and roads. It is harder and harder for large populations of Monarchs to reach their winter homes. In some cases even their destinations have been destroyed. The Mexican Oyamel groves that the Midwestern Monarchs consider home are being logged for the valuable lumber. Many concerned people, including Jenny, are working to protect some Monarch wintering areas in California and Mexico. Meanwhile others are working in different areas with local interests and governments to create safe habitats for the Monarchs.

Jenny and Matt are planning a butterfly garden for next spring. By choosing the right plants they will create a little fueling station and rest stop for next year’s Monarchs.