Thoughts, Naturally: Monarchs on My Mind
By: Sarah Katan
I was surprised how quickly I felt it: the overwhelming giddiness that transported me to memories and feelings I had as a child. But I am not a child. I’m a wife and mother of two with an ever revolving to-do list and responsibilities to myself and others.
But the moment I saw it, I grinned, jumped up and down and I clapped.
It was a monarch butterfly chrysalis.
Once I had done my little dance of joy and taken in the chrysalis for a second, third, fourth time I looked at the other stalks of milkweed and gasped. There was another monarch chrysalis just a foot away. TWO chrysalises?! It felt like we had been blessed by Mother Nature herself.
It all started about five years ago. I saw it popping up between the blades of grass in our front yard by the corner of our garage. With wide, oval shaped leaves fanning out directly from the stalk, I knew what it was immediately: milkweed.
With no known milkweed in our neighborhood, I considered us lucky. A seed must have blown by and rooted itself in our lawn by chance. I saw an opportunity to be the type of home owner to allow a little wild amongst the landscaping. I like to talk-the-talk of native plants and pollinator gardens and supporting local ecosystems but here was my chance to walk-the-walk. At that point I was aware that monarch populations were in decline, so a chance to create a small habitat where they could reproduce felt like an easy win.
The first year, a few milkweed plants grew. The second year, a few more. When we saw our first caterpillar we were so hopeful, but we never found a chrysalis. Every year the milkweed took over a bit more of our lawn.
This year, for no particular reason, was the tipping point. A monarch butterfly must have spotted our milkweed and decided it was ready to harbor some eggs.
We saw three caterpillars in mid-September that resulted in two chrysalises. Unfortunately, one caterpillar fell prey to an assassin bug.
Four days after we first observed the chrysalises, my father-in-law said he thought one of them had died. It was black and shriveled at the top, he said, and looked like there was a hole in the bottom. My stomach dropped and I realized at that point how emotionally invested I was in the success of these creatures who were calling my home theirs for a short time.
When I went outside to investigate, though, I found the chrysalis was indeed black but it was completely healthy. In fact, it has simply moved into a new stage where we could observe the black and orange wing pattern through the chrysalis. Again, I found myself grinning from ear to ear. The monarch was doing exactly what it was supposed to be doing.
I checked on that chrysalis the next morning. I had to zip up my raincoat up against a brisk breeze and cool rainy drizzle. I had a feeling it was at the end of its metamorphosis but I knew the weather wasn’t quite right. Butterflies need sunlight and some warmth to get their wings unfolded and ready for flight. The next day brought a bluebird sky. Sure enough, by the time I got home from some errands, the chrysalis was an empty husk. The butterfly had emerged.
The second chrysalis took several more days to emerge. Again, I feared that it was too cold for it to metamorph properly. But never bet against Mother Nature. I found the second chrysalis empty one afternoon when I was playing outside with one of my kids. This time I smiled to myself, feeling foolish for doubting the process.
And then I thought of what fun we could have as a family watching and caring for monarchs in the future. Sharing that joy I felt at finding the chrysalis, passing on the knowledge I have, listening to the questions my kids have and looking for answers together.
Maybe one day finding a monarch caterpillar, chrysalis or butterfly will feel common because they are seen all summer long. Wouldn’t that be thrilling in its own way? But even then, I hope I never lose my sense of wonder.
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