Here in Minnetopia, it is one of my favorite times of year. The long winter is finally over and the land is waking up and preparing to produce its chaotic bounty again. My husband has become a prolific gardener and decided to share our goods at the Farmer’s Market in town for the first time. He’s been shoring up the protected garden which we have named Fort Knox as it is the only growing area protected by fencing wire to keep deer and rabbits from feasting on our produce. This dedicated area has been reserved for only the most vulnerable plants and space inside the gate is precious real estate around here. So, I was pleasantly surprised when he texted me this photo of inside the fortress yesterday. Allowing a milkweed plant to survive in the exclusive gated community is a true sign that he loves me.
Over the last three years, I have grown quite fond of monarch butterflies. I have learned about their population declines due to loss of habitat, their incredible migration each year and the life cycle that mystifies and intrigues any science lover. It all started when one of our neighbors dropped by in the spring of 2018 to ask if he could search around our property for caterpillars. Of course, I agreed, and then proceeded to pepper him with questions about why and how and what does raising monarchs entail. Since then, I have raised and released over a hundred monarchs. I realize that raising them has become somewhat controversial and there are some studies indicating that raising them indoors may affect their ability to migrate and could potentially alter their genetics in a detrimental way. I am sure there may be some biologic reasons not to interfere with nature (aren’t there always?), but our family has decided to continue to enjoy raising and releasing these beautiful creatures while also trying to maximize their precious habitat and sole nutrient source of milkweed plants. We are committed to not spraying our property to eradicate mosquitos and we mow our yard as if we are drunk to leave every possible plant that emerges. If convincing studies emerge that confirm we are truly doing more damage than good by raising them, I will absolutely cease and desist, but for now, we remain avid monarch parents.
As I have mentioned before, my husband and I are both physicians. I am a family physician who recently left outpatient medicine, meaning I only take care of hospitalized patients. My husband is a hospice and palliative care physician. We have seen our fair share of patients die and believe me when I tell you that we grieve their losses. Releasing monarchs has become a therapeutic way for us to say goodbye to these people who have entrusted us with their care. We have named many butterflies after these special patients and as they fly off after weeks under our care from egg to monarch, there is a catharsis that occurs. It has become a beautiful way to pay tribute and reminds us how precious this life we enjoy really is. During the 2020 season, I dedicated my releases to healthcare workers who lost their lives to Covid-19. I had requests from all over the globe and ultimately paid homage to over 80 nurses, doctors, therapists and other healthcare workers who continued to care for sick patients despite the personal risk. When this pandemic started, we didn’t understand how this disease behaved and the brave people who showed up on these front lines day after day inspired me to not only continue to show up, but to dedicate my butterflies to them. It was an incredible year in so many ways and this new growth of milkweed helps me realize that we are all starting over with a new reality. It is unfathomable how many people we lost to the SARS-CoV-2 virus. As a scientist, it is nearly as unfathomable that we now have not one, but several vaccines which are remarkably efficient at protecting us from this deadly virus. It sometimes seems that Covid-19 has been disrupting us forever, but it has only been a little over a year and we are seeing great progress. I could write a book about how this pandemic has affected my family, but I should get back to butterflies as they are the true subject of this post! Suffice it to say, I have a strong personal interest in monarchs and they have served me as much as I have served them. Isn’t that usually the case when we dedicate ourselves to a higher purpose?
Starting in mid to late May (may be earlier in places south of Minnetopia), we start hunting for monarch eggs. They are laid typically as single eggs on the underside of milkweed leaves. One monarch may lay 100+ eggs, each on different leaves which will serve as the initial food source for these tiny caterpillars. The eggs can be difficult to spot at first as they are about the size of a poppy seed or 1/2 the size of a sesame seed. You can imagine that searching a 9 acre property can take some time. You can find me in me my tall wellies wading through waist high grass trying to avoid mosquitos (without bug spray which could kill these fragile caterpillars!) searching the undersides of milkweed plants for hours some days. Once collected, we protect them in highly sophisticated containers until they hatch (Tupperware lined with a paper towel is sufficient). We then lightly mist the leaves or leaf cuttings with water (not too much or they can mold) every 1-2 days until they hatch, which usually takes 1-3 days. The eggs start out as a cream colored intricately designed pod. They start to look black on top, aptly called “black tipping”, shortly before the tiny caterpillars emerge. They then consume the egg remnant and the race is on to keep up with their stomachs. Over the coming weeks, they eat and grow and eat and grow, stopping only to molt into larger instar larvae. In the fifth instar stage, a monarch larvae will weave a silky netting from which it can hang in a J formation and then form a brilliant green chrysalis with shiny gold accents. Once they are in chrysalis, we get to relax a bit after the whirlwind 2-3 weeks of constantly bringing them fresh milkweed leaves and cleaning their frass (poops) out of their enclosures. Here’s an amateur time-lapse of the chrysalis formation:
There are five generations of monarchs each year in Minnetopia, with the final generation leaving in late September on their migration to Mexico. I haven’t tagged any of my butterflies, but maybe this will be the year to attempt this next step. Each new monarch is like a tiny miracle birth in our house and we are always excited to see them emerge. As time draws closer to eclosing (coming out of chrysalis), the chrysilades turn more transparent and you can start to see the colorful wings developing beneath the surface. Then, the new creature pushes open their door to the outside world and hangs for few hours while it pumps fluid into the veins of the wings and they are able to dry in order to fly. We typically release them several hours to a full day after they eclose. Prior to the fifth generation, each release means I need to put my wellies back on and head out to collect eggs again as they don’t take long to mate and produce the next generation.
If you have milkweed in your yard or nearby parks, I would encourage you to protect the plants from chemical treatments. The monarch larvae are quite fragile and when exposed to chemicals, they can quickly become quite ill and often don’t survive, turning into a sad, green goo. Contact your local parks boards and encourage them to allow milkweed to grow untreated. Plant milkweed around your gardens and protect this natural resource for these amazing creatures. Without habitat, we will lose more and more butterflies. I think we can all agree that these magical beauties are worth protecting.
