All Hail The Monarchs

There was a time when my brothers and sisters and I ruled the skies. 

Our parades were a spectacle, a show that could not be missed, and many from all over would come outside to watch as we gracefully swooped by in our ritual display of wonder and delight. 

“Those are the Monarchs!” Some would cry, the adults pointing at us to their children. The eyes of the young ones would light up with glee, and some would even try to follow us, prancing along or behind, doing their best to keep up with our pace. 

Those that lived in the north had prepared for our arrival. They had expected us, even anticipated our accession. Prepared for us were soft beds of milkweed, all lined up and waiting. During the daylight hours, these human caretakers would watch us from afar, not wanting to disturb the peace of our domain. 

Us Monarchs would stay here for months, basking in the warmth of the summer glow, letting the brilliant rays of the sun flash brightly against our wings, while the softest of breezes carried out our fluttering rhythm.

Most of our days were spent creating the generations that would come after us. Our lineage was kept pure, and the births of our descendants were destined to take place on the fresh petals and stems of many of those before them. 

The offspring would eat and then rest, their stripes of yellow, white, and black encircling their thick bodies with tiny speckled feet. After shedding a few skins, they would finally wander from the milkweed, looking for a new place to begin their transformation. 

After a fortnight, small silk tombs would be found hidden beneath green limbs, all slowly and secretly maturing into the beautiful beings they were always meant to become. 

If a human were to look closely towards the end of this evolvement, they would begin to see the regal tint of burnt orange, black stripes, and white dots peeking out through the clear encasements. 

“It is almost time,” some would maybe whisper. “The new heirs will soon be here.” 

They wouldn't need to hold their breaths long, for in a sudden unannounced moment, the protective shields surrounding our young would crack, signaling the very beginning of a long awaited arrival. The next generation would slowly crawl out, their newfound senses taking in the colorful new world around them, and they begin to feel their new wings enlarge from the sudden pumping of revitalized energy. 

The newborns are not ready to fly at first, for most young never are. But it does not take long for a royal-born Monarch to understand their role and entitlement. 

Soon, the air around us is once again alight with the fluttering of wings and the playful carousel of a new generation. The tops of lilacs and strawflowers become homes once again, the feeding and laying of eggs never ceasing until the very first hint of a cool, crisp breeze that comes whispering into the fold. 

Our royal procession would then pick up, each pair of wings following the sun, beginning a long, long journey south towards the safe haven of green forests. We travel on for thousands of miles, stopping only for nectar.

This dance of the Monarchs has gone on for centuries. Our small but prized line of nobility has always flourished unhindered, unmatched, and untouched. Our reign was protected and viewed as sacred to some. 

But then something shifted. The gigantic world we lived in began to create their own transformation, but their evolution came at a price. 

The warm forests of the south no longer welcomed our royal arrival. What was once bountiful land as far as the eye could see had quickly become barren. We would return from our long journey to find our southern kingdom befallen, its roots and limbs cut down and dragged away, never to be seen again. 

Less trees meant less refuge from the long winter months, and the pain of seeing so many fellow Monarchs begin to wither and freeze was only just the start. 

Fields we had once effortlessly fluttered through had now become wastelands of filth. Many more of us perished from the unavoidable toxic fumes, mistaking poison for our once glorious nectar. 

When the sun heralded it was time to make the long journey back north, some of us did not have the strength to make it. 

The comfort and bliss of the environment we had known for years was no longer the same, and finding a way to reproduce and carry on the line of Monarchs now became a risk for us all, an uphill battle. 

To make matters worse, we soon discovered it was not just the line of Monarchs who were suffering, but the lines of our cousins as well. The Brush-footed Satyrs had diminished in great numbers, the golden brown Silverspots had also decreased, and the swift but elegant Karner Blues had all found themselves fighting for their survival. 

The world we had all once thrived in, and in the old days presided over, had reconstructed on their own without us, almost completely forgetting us in the process. 

Beds of lush scenery that were once found aplenty had all but disappeared, replaced by tall structures and noisy atrocities. The humans had made the world a home for themselves, but no longer a home for the creatures. 

But in the midst of all of this chaos, through the ever-shifting glare of humanity, there are some who still remember. 

Every now and then, when spring and summer are gracing the lands of the north, small pockets of peace and abundance can still be found in the privacy of window sills and hushed gardens. Milkweeds and goldenrods, sweetbushes and thistles will wake up to greet us, providing us the safety and nourishment our royal line depends on. 

The children who spot us still adore us, their oval eyes growing big and round, filled with pure hope. A future generation that is still in awe of our regality, our beauty. 

It is in them, and the ones who teach them to preserve instead of to take, that the future of the Monarchs can still, maybe, once again prosper. Through hope, instruction, and innovation, there might come a day where orange wings will once again rule the sky and a dynasty will continue. 

To learn more about what we can all do to help protect the fragile ecosystem of Monarch butterflies, The National Wildlife Federation has an article called Six Ways to Save Monarchs that shows each of us how to garden organically without the use of pesticides and how to create a healthy Monarch habitat according to your region of residence.