Earlier this year I watched as one of the first monarch butterflies circled the milkweed/swan plant below our deck. This time I grabbed a pencil and traced her flow on paper, intrigued at her mysterious path of many careful circuits. The drawing ends up a puzzling maze, as if meant to confuse. My notes read she spends minutes circling and making approaches to the plant, swooping past pumpkins, the mustard seed, the raspberries, the snowball tree, diverting attention? Perhaps checking it’s safe, scenting? It’s a dizzying energetic dance, never still. I trace the lines over and over trying to follow the complicated passage.
Whitby locals Alan and Marie, have kindly allowed me to share a couple their stunning photos (above and below) from their trek to visit endangered monarch butterflies overwintering in Mexico’s Sierra Chincua sanctuary. At about this time of year (Northern Hemisphere’s autumn) the butterflies migrate up to 3,000 miles from Canada and North America – an incredible natural phenomenon.* “The sound of their flapping was like light rain” says Alan. Their local guide, Raúl Hernández, remarked “if there was a god they would be here”, recalls Marie. Her thoughts drift back to when they heard, years later, that Raúl and fellow activist and manager of the federally protected Reserva de Biosfera de la Mariposa Monarca (Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve) were killed in suspicious circumstances. The tensions between local communities seeking sustainable tourism from the Reserve and others carrying out logging and clearcutting for avocado plantations underscore the forced marginalisation of human and butterfly from ancient lands.
The trip inspired Marie and Alan to do something for the Whitby butterfly population and other pollinators. So over a cuppa we started talking about that but the conversation seemed to have its own pathway, floating, butterfly-like, into discussions about living in a community and a collective culture in a local place.
Tree branches droop with the weight of millions of monarch butterflies, wings closed, in huge clusters of tightly packed formations. Their brown masses well camouflaged, resembling parts of the oyamel fir and pine forestsin which they overwinter in Mexico.
Photo credit here and above: Alan and Marie Roberts, Whitby
Edge of Things 