Glorious migration

The migration has begun ... the glorious migration of the monarch butterflies, driven from Canada and the upper reaches of the U.S. by the falling temperatures of the coming winter. Their final destination is Florida (or somewhere equally close to the equator), but -- have you noticed -- for the past several weeks, Alabama has been their camping ground.

We noticed, because one of their favorite landing places, it seems, has been our zinnia patch. A few days ago, we counted almost thirty of these royal lepidoptera just outside our back door. THIRTY! All flittering and fluttering around. A glorious sight, it was! We watched in awe.

Initially, it was just the little kids (Bella and AJ) and me -- we'd had snack on the deck, and the kids got the idea to let the butterflies land on their fingers. ("Why not?" they wondered -- "it'd be just like the butterfly room at the aquarium in Chattanooga.")

Only these butterflies weren't like those in the aquarium -- a little less friendly with the human species. AJ (the nature-loving, scientist-type, you know) was distraught; he tried and tried, but narry a monarch butterfly would light upon his finger.

Then, suddenly it seemed, they were attracted to him like bees to honey (sticking with the nature analogies here)! No sooner had I squealed in delight for AJ, so happy that the butterflies were taking a liking to him, that he informed me he'd coaxed them there by spreading pollen from the zinnias onto his fingers. Brilliant kid, he is!

Eventually, Emma heard the commotion and joined us on the deck to participate in the excitement. (Notice the cell phone attached to her ear -- she supplied her friend with spirited play-by-play of the butterfly behavior.)

Such a memory -- this happy time of playing with the monarchs in our backyard.

The days are getting cooler now, and already the monarchs are beginning to disappear, continuing their journey toward warmer climate. A book I own tells me that monarchs, once they've arrived at their migration destination, will make "butterfly trees": they'll settle themselves by the thousands over the limbs of great evergreen trees, wait out the cold weather, and then wake to head back north. Only this time, they won't complete the journey. They'll mate, lay their eggs on milkweed plants, then die. Their eggs will hatch into caterpillars, feed on the milkweed (that's important) and become new butterflies. And because their new little bodies will be full of the milkweed on which they've fed, these little creatures will be safe from the beaks of hungry birds (which are allergic to milkweed). Protected, they will finish their parents' journey home.

Astonishing to me.