No organism embodies the simultaneous durability and fragility of Nature as the monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus). This showy orange and black butterfly undergoes a seasonal migration from the species wintering grounds in Mexico to the North American continent as far north as Canada. The orange and black color scheme of the monarch is a textbook example of aposematism- the butterflies sequester enough cardiac glycosides from the milkweed plants they consume as caterpillars that they can knock animals that eat them for a loop. They do make dramatic photographic subjects, such as this monarch that I photographed on the job today:
The toxic monarchs have a doppelgänger, the viceroy butterfly (Limenitis archippus), long thought to be a non-toxic Batesian mimic, but recently discovered to be a toxic Müllerian mimic.
The monarchs themselves are durable creatures, able to migrate for thousands of miles, but their status is fragile. The milkweed plants on which the larval monarchs subsist are often eradicated by the agricultural use of pesticides, the development of rural and exurban real estate, and mowing of lawns and highway margins. More alarmingly, the Mexican oyamel fir forests in which the butterflies overwinter are endangered not only by global warming, but by logging. Earlier this year, anti-logging butterfly conservationist Homero Gómez González was found dead, probably murdered.
This is the prime season for spotting monarchs in my neck of the woods- the conditions are perfect for them to stop at this particular geographic area in late summer. Watching these gorgeous creatures as they flutter in a seemingly fragile manner, knowing all along that they are stalwart pilgrims, long journeying, gladdens my heart. The very though of perhaps losing them in my lifetime is horrific. I've touched on this subject before, specifically regarding milkweeds. Our head groundskeeper is very knowledgeable, so she always maintains a healthy population of the plants on our sites, as well as a variety of pollinator-attracting flowering plants... she really should have a natural platform for balancing human landscaping desires with the needs of other organisms.
Conservation measures should be implemented both here in the 'States and in the oyamel forests of Mexico. In particular, the short-term benefits of logging should be rejected in favor of a more sustainable ecotourism model... but that would depend on getting the narcotrafficking and logging related violence under control. A sustainable ecological policy would benefit butterflies and people.
I take great joy in the quiet moments of observing these enchanting creatures, and I strongly feel that they must be preserved for subsequent generations.
5 comments:
When I was a kid, I found an iridescent cocoon, and put it in a "bug catcher" to await the hatching. One morning, I woke to find a monarch butterfly with its wings unfurling. One of the happiest memories of my childhood.
I'm so glad your workplace supports butterfly food (though the plant in your lovely photo, lantana, is a major pest here in Australia). We do our best in our garden to plant native bee and butterfly flowers too. We usually see masses of them in spring and even winter - though never another monarch, sadly. (That might just be because we now live by the coast, and the monarch of my childhood was caught when I lived up on the mountains.)
Trump's destruction of monarch overwintering grounds to build his idiotic wall is not the least of his many crimes, not at all.
My dad, for all of his other flaws, left an acre of land undisturbed on our ranch for milkweed and wild lisianthus. I love watching them migrate through every year, a true harbinger of autumn. I see too few now and grieve at their loss.
When I was a kid, I found an iridescent cocoon, and put it in a "bug catcher" to await the hatching. One morning, I woke to find a monarch butterfly with its wings unfurling. One of the happiest memories of my childhood.
What a beautiful experience!
My dad, for all of his other flaws, left an acre of land undisturbed on our ranch for milkweed and wild lisianthus.
That is some far-thinking, this sort of practice should be universal to preserve biodiversity.
When I owned my own little acreage, I left it completely wild except for the little patch around my house. Then, I planted shrubs and flowers for bees and butterflies. I was rewarded with turkeys, roadrunners, chipmunks, and broad bird diversity. Anyone can do it, and it's a shame that most don't.
It's such a good idea, leaving things fallow. It's a shame that a lot of communities mandate well-groomed lawns, which I have long opposed.
Post a Comment