The Flight of the Monarch

Witnessing the magic of migration

On a recent Sunday, I had the pleasure of an afternoon to myself. I had planned this for some time, and I was giddy with anticipation. As the calendar approached late October, with a cerulean blue sky and a slight crispness in the air, it was time to observe the migration of the Monarch butterfly. What began thousands of miles away was now poised to pass over my little slice of Georgia. 

Grabbing my camera, I navigated away from suburbia, into the countryside, where traffic slows and farmhouses become the norm. Windows down, sunroof open to let in the glorious late afternoon sun, hair billowing around my face, I headed North. Arriving at the gardens I have visited on numerous occasions, I headed straight for the wildflower meadow. 

After meandering through conifers, Japanese maples, and a rose garden, the path gave way to a vast openness. Cresting a small hill, the view caused the breath to catch in my throat. There, before my eyes, thousands of cosmos in all the colors of the rainbow stood tall before me. As I neared, hundreds of monarchs flitted from one flower to another. What a treat for me - I was truly in awe. 

Snapping as fast as I could, each time a butterfly landed, I wanted to capture the moment. From the palest of pinks to shades of lilac, fuchsia and bright yellow, one flower was more beautiful than the next. Using my zoom lens, I was able to capture the tiniest details. I marveled at how their proboscis gently prodded at the flower’s center, extracting the nectar which would be used for energy during the next segment of their migration. I marveled at their antennae, tiny black wisps with a bulbous black dot on their ends, darting this way and that to alert them of danger. 

As they alit from one flower to the next, I pondered whether they were communicating with one another, performing a silent dance to which only they could hear the music. Every so often, I would catch two monarchs landing on the same flower - what a treat that was - my camera not ready for their quickness - there and suddenly gone. 

Of the hundreds of butterflies I observed, most were monarchs with an occasional tropical buckeye in the mix. However, out of the corner of my eye, a dark flash would grab my attention. It was in stark contrast with the orange and yellow of the monarchs - a black so dark with pops of indigo and orange - darting from flower to flower, often in pairs. I followed these speedy creatures through the meadow, wanting desperately to capture a photo of them, as they seemed so rare. Finally, my patience paid off and I was able to snap a quick photo of this elusive beauty. 

It turns out that this is the pipeline swallowtail. They were definitely outnumbered - I observed only a handful that afternoon. What a triumph that I was able to see these amazing specimens, even for the tiniest of seconds. 

After snapping away for quite some time, I decided I had enough photos, each more beautiful than the next. At the top of the knoll, the garden had placed chairs in the shade. I sat down to observe the meadow from the highest vantage point, sitting in stillness, marveling at the hundreds of flowers and monarchs, the breeze through the tops of the pines the only sound. It was truly magical.

As the sun dipped lower in the Autumn sky, it was time to leave this wondrous place and head home, back to reality. I slowly made my way through the meadow, wanting to have one last glimpse at these elegant, beautiful creatures. Soon, as the temperatures continue to fall, they will continue southward, flying for thousands of miles to reach their Winter home in the transvolcanic mountains of central Mexico.¹

One thing I must note is that monarchs are facing extinction due to the decline of milkweed plants, in part due to the continued use of herbicides in agriculture. Milkweed is the main source of food for baby caterpillars. In the past year alone, researchers noted a 59% decline in the number of monarchs wintering in Mexico from prior years.² Deforestation, increased urban sprawl, and climate change could also contribute to the elimination of the monarch population in just a few years.

I am thankful to have been an observer today. This magic will live inside me each time I reflect back and ponder the monarchs. It was unlike anything that I have experienced. For that, I am grateful.

* All photos by Michele Pirkau Dambach

1. monarchwatch.org

2. worldwildlife.org