Monarch Butterlfy | My Gardener Says…

Sightings of migrating Monarch butterflies, Danaus plexippus, have been few and far between this autumn. I’ve observed one or two, here and there, the burnished beauties’ wafting through my garden, wings wide open, brightened honey-colored by the sun’s rays. By late September and early October, despite ongoing drought and heat, some of the Monarchs’ favorite blooms were in full, flowering mode, ready and waiting for brief visits from the passing butterflies.

Frostweed, Verbesina virginica is always a favorite.

Gregg’s Mistflower, Conoclinium greggii, is another autumn blooming Monarch magnet.

Pollinators, including Monarchs, love Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii.

Though it was heartening to see the Monarchs, a few passing through doesn’t suggest a migrating group.

That changed a wee bit this past last week. For a couple of days, I counted 14-15 Monarchs working the graceful flowers of my Mexican Orchid Tree, Bauhinia mexicana.

Here, there’s one in the foreground and two in the background; there’s also a little dab of umber in the left background. That brown beauty is a Queen, Danaus gilippus, a cousin to the Monarch.

These two Monarchs worked the orchid tree flowers, while in the blurry background, False Willow or Poverty Weed, Baccharis neglecta, hosts its own party of pollinators. The willow attracts many native bees, honeybees, and some of the small skippers. It’s alive with movement.

I probably should have shot a video of the fluttering butters rather than trying to capture photos. The darned things continually moved from bloom to bloom and when they were bored with that, played hide-n-seek behind the ungulate-shaped foliage. I’d focus on one or two, then whoosh, they wing out of the camera’s sight. It was nigh impossible for this picture-taker to capture the glorious activity around the flowers.

This small group, welcome though it was, doesn’t come close to the numbers of Monarchs that have graced my garden in the past. But given the survival challenges that Monarchs face, I am pleased that there were so many for a day or two, and that I had ready for them nectar-rich food sources. Recent research has suggested that the migrating Monarchs are losing the will to migrate, due to a host of factors. For more information about this sad, but perhaps evolutionary trend, check out this article from Texas Butterfly Ranch.

I’m not sure if the group I observed constitutes a flutter of butterflies–a term that refers to a mass of butterflies, but I do love the use of the term flutter, along with the other words used for butterfly gangs, like the following: a flight of butterflies, a kaleidoscope of butterflies, a rainbow of butterflies, a shimmer of butterflies, a swarm of butterflies, and a wing of butterflies.

Many or one, Monarchs are a joy to witness, a balm for the soul.

They’re back. The Monarch butterflies, Danaus plexippus, are now wafting through Central Texas, orange and black wings gracefully flit against the Texas sun before alighting at blooming plants for nourishment, sustaining their long flight, continuing their annual life cycle.

Like so many of us, Monarchs face an uncertain future: climate change, deforestation in Mexico, overuse of pesticides and herbicides in urban gardening and commercial farming in the United States are just some of the challenges to a viable population of these insects.

I am joyful at the first Monarch sighting in spring and then again, in autumn. Currently, my garden offers a diversity of flowering plants–native and nonnative–in which the butterflies nectar from before they move southward toward their winter home. In autumn, it’s all about providing blooming flowers for these hungry, hungry butterflies.

In spring, the availability of milkweed (Monarchs’ host plant) is paramount for the hungry, hungry caterpillars.

Female Monarch on Frostweed (Verbesina virginica)

This generation of adults are those last born in the northern parts of the United States and Canada and are now headed to Mexico.

Female Monarch on Plateau goldeneye (Viguiera dentata)

Once these remarkable insects arrive at their destination, they will gather in dramatic clusters by the millions, high up in the Oyamel fir forests of the Sierra Madre Mountains in Mexico. The unique situation offers cold temperatures and high humidity during the winter–the evolved perfect environment for Monarchs’ winter rest.

Male Monarch on Frostweed. The two black marks located on the hind wings, plus thinner black webbing indicate a male.

The adults who overwinter in Mexico are those who will return through Texas (the major migration pathway) next March, laying eggs on a variety of native milkweed plants. That first (or is it the last?) generation begins the life cycle all over again: adults mate, females lay eggs, the adults then die. Eggs hatch, caterpillars eat the milkweed, morph to the next generation, the flights resume. The ancient rhythm continues in leap-frog fashion, northward through spring and into summer.

Female Monarch on Skyflower (Datura erecta)

At some point in August, six generations later, because of a change in light and through a magnetic pull that the Monarchs have responded to for eons, the last set of adults turn southward and begin their 2000 mile journey toward the Mexican mountain firs which await winged occupation.

Stopping briefly as they migrate to Mexico, Monarchs are enjoying a respite in my garden; the first of many arrived a couple of days ago.