Lending a Hand to the Monarchs

Denise Canora and some of the 244 monarch butterflies she helped raise this year. Photo/Robin Gourd

The sun is rising clear this morning after five days of solid rain. Maybe it will be warm enough for the last hatch of monarch butterflies I helped raise this year to take wing and head south by southwest to their overwintering location in the oyamel forests of Mexico. It is a glorious end to yet another summer and fall, for I played the premier part of "Mother Nature" in a script of my own writing as I lent a hand to the monarch butterfly kingdom.

Consider the parable of throwing starfish back into the waters of a receding ocean tide: with each toss, one has saved a starfish. It is the same for the monarch caterpillar. With each egg or baby caterpillar reared by a human hand, it is probable there will be one more monarch majestically alighting from flower to flower. Since the last of the receding glaciers the monarchs have migrated to field, riverside and pasture, from Mexico to Ontario—every spring heading north, and every fall returning south.

As we plant flowers in the spring, water our gardens and harvest the tomatoes, maybe it can become the norm for those appreciative of the wild kingdom to rear a few monarch caterpillars. In these times of fewer farms (less milkweed), manicured lawns (less milkweed), paving the planet (less milkweed), automobiles (road kill) and threatened winter habitat in Mexico (the U.S. winter habitats are long gone), the monarch butterfly needs our helping hand. Though the monarch will not go extinct, it is said that their migration is threatened. By planting milkweed, rearing caterpillars in captivity and monetarily supporting Mexican conservation organizations, we can keep the migrating monarch numbers where they ought to be.

It was four years ago that I planted a few seeds of the native milkweed plant in order to provide a food source for the caterpillar stage of the monarch butterfly. The milkweed seeds germinated in the spit of a garden where they were initially scratched into the soil, and that summer the first miracle took place as a monarch soon was found it laying eggs on the underside of the milkweed leaves. A visual check found the opalescent poppy seed-sized eggs and the caterpillars hatching from within in three days. But most of the young caterpillars vanished a few days after hatching, and I learned that 95% are eaten by a variety of predatory insects—from the assassin bug, to ants, to wasps.

It was time to play Dr. Dolittle, visit the local library for information, and rescue the cute little creepy crawlies that would grow up to become monarchs. The first year I reared three, the next twelve, the next 356, and this year 244.

Though the season for rearing caterpillars is now past, October is a time to note locations of the clearly visible 4-foot high milkweed stalks with their attendant large seed pods dispersing their white silken parachutes to the wind. The seeds can be harvested for replanting in wayward locations or backyards (in places that will remain undisturbed or mowed very infrequently). A large field of milkweed with their attendant seed pods, which can be easily spotted now, might also allow the transplant of mature roots in spring, hastening the development of a backyard milkweed nursery, or might be a place to harvest eggs and caterpillars in the spring, summer and fall.

Today I will release the last of this year’s flock of the monarchs that I raised. With the colder weather I sometimes send them off with a snack of some honey water before they depart for Mexico.

Last year’s 356 monarchs were raised on our dining room table with the deployment of an oak branch to mimic nature and provide a place for them to metamorphose. This year’s 244 were raised outside in a wooden screen house that worked wonderfully. Come next spring and summer I will once again partake in Monarch Rescue 101. Following is the curriculum vitae:

Denise encourages a monarch to sip some honey water. Photo/Robin Gourd

• Whether traveling by bike or car, I carry a small berry-picking container.

• Knowing of milkweed locations, I inspect the small shoots of these plants for eggs or caterpillars (concentrating throughout the season on the tender young leaves).

• The leaves upon which the monarchs reside are carefully snapped off and put in the basket.

• Caterpillars are brought home and gently transferred to a milkweed stalk that has been placed in water in a small-necked vase or jar, with Saran Wrap at the mouth of the bottle to secure the milkweed.

• Eggs are brought home on the leaf and set aside in a small container with air holes; a tear of a sponge will help keep the leaf alive. Within three days the caterpillar will hatch and can be moved to a milkweed stalk (as described above) with an artist’s paintbrush.

• When the caterpillars are mature, position the tip of the milkweed stalk upright against a wall, allowing travel up the wall to the ceiling, where the chrysalis will form.

• When hatching out, the monarchs will fly to a window and can be gently given freedom to the great outdoors.

This interference with "God’s intended plan" is 99% to the benefit of the caterpillar. They can also be reared inside a large aquarium following the above suggestions.

Though here in New England we are not in the presence of the resplendent quetzal, the puff-legged hummingbird or the six-inch blue neon morpho butterfly of the Amazon, we are in the presence of Danaus plexippus—the monarch butterfly. Let us appreciate them, and also do all we can to help them continue living here.

When once reflecting on the magnificence of the monarch butterfly versus the swallowtails or even the great spangled fritillary, I pondered why the monarch held a special place of intrigue in this naturalist’s heart. I then realized that it is only the monarch butterfly, when in pastures or field, which flies with grace from flower to flower. All of New England’s other butterflies are chaotic in their flight. Here in the lands of New England, it is only the monarch in flight that bears a serene calm to our naked eye.

Denise Canora, who runs an environmental outreach effort entitled Quinnehtukqut Seeds of Change, will mail you milkweed seed, butterfly weed seed and cardinal flower seed if you send her a S.A.S.E. Questions regarding monarch rearing or requests for the postal address can be sent to <QSOC@hotmail.com>.