A True-Fable Story
Storms produce wonderful stories, among other things
The El Nino winter of 1994-95 started innocently enough with a fall filled with Monarch butterflies. These butterflies, great, great, great, great-grandchildren of the monarchs that wintered in California the year before, traveled hundreds of miles to this spot to continue the cycle perpetuated for eons. Thousands of these particular butterflies used to winter on the Montana de Oro St. Park coast next to our outdoor science school Camp KEEP.
When the nights turned cold the butterflies flew up to the branches of the nearby eucalyptus trees just before sunset. There they roosted like enormous orange and black clumps of grapes hanging from the boughs of the leafy trees. Every morning, their bodies warmed by the sun, hundreds of monarchs would flutter down to the camp and drink the dew from the green grass. Afterward, they spent their day dancing on the breeze and drinking nectar from the flowering eucalyptus trees.
As fall faded into winter, the storms became more regular. Along with the rain came high waves, causing erosion, coastal flooding, and destroyed piers. Sometimes rocks the size of refrigerators were ripped from the reefs and tossed up on shore with sea anemones and sea stars still attached to them.
The storms were always preceded by fierce southeast winds blowing through the forest and out to sea toward the center of the tempest. The approaching freight train sound of a gust roaring through the eucalyptus by our campus always sent a chill (or maybe a thrill?) up my spine. One storm in January ’95 had gusts measured up to 79 mph just south of us at Diablo Canyon. It took out trees, and an outbuilding and nearly caused our geodesic dome, which served as our dining hall, to collapse. We saved it by tying it to a tractor.
These winds always caused the monarchs’ trees to sway, break, and occasionally fall, but during the days between the storms, the butterflies emerged, some a little worse for wear and tear. But it was always heartening to the eye as they filled that space between the ground and sky, gliding and fluttering like flashes of orange jewels.
But the storms kept coming. In March we had a storm roll in that stalled over our area for half a day. At KEEP we measured 10 inches of rain in about 24 hours. Up north, the west end of Cambria was only accessible by boat. We had so much rain on the already saturated soils that sheets of water flowed across the surface of the land, gopher holes were like geysers spouting water 2 to 3 feet in the air. Montana de Oro was closed for weeks after the storm, the road washed out in three places, and trails and creeks were forever altered. Mother nature redecorating again.
All through that winter, the monarchs persisted. There was, however, one storm I remember well for the wind was particularly strong with weird, wild gusts. Many branches fell and one massive tree toppled in the monarch’s grove, its roots unable to hold purchase in the saturated soil. The following morning, I walked a group of students through the area on our way down to the shore to see what surprises Mother Nature washed up for us. What we saw in the grove was carnage. Monarchs strewn over the ground with broken limbs and twigs. Some of the butterflies were struggling out of the mud and debris to climb up onto branches to try and dry out. Others, their bodies and wings so damaged it was obvious they would never fly again.
The students were distraught over the scene we were witnessing and wondered what they could do to help, I tried to explain that this was just how nature was, the fit would survive and the butterfly’s evolution had prepared them for this and…. The look on their faces was too much. “Okay”, I said, “here’s what we can do. Many of these monarchs just need to warm up”. With that I bent down and picked up a butterfly out of a mud puddle, its wings looked to be okay. I carefully enclosed it in my hands and lightly blew my warm breath into the hole between my thumbs. Soon I felt the little wings quivering, the legs moving, and I released the insect. It fluttered out of my hands and up into the breeze.
Oh, they liked that. Soon we are all searching for butterflies to “save”. But there was one student, (there’s always one in a group) who after watching us said, “This is dumb, look at them all.” He gestured to the hundreds of butterfly bodies scattered across the ground, many beyond help. “What we’re doing, it’s not gonna make a difference”.
After hearing this, some students stopped and looked around at all the orange and black insects strewn about. But I had to hand it to one girl who, holding a butterfly cupped in her hands, said nothing. She just stared at the boy as she carefully blew into her palms then let the monarch flutter up away into the sunlit air. “It made a difference to that one,” she said.
Never forget, that in our own way, we can all make a difference.
While the story is true, the dialog at the end is roughly borrowed from Loren Eisley’s well-known “Star Thrower story”.
Back in the 90’s when this story took place the Western Monarch Thanksgiving Count estimated the butterfly population to be well over a million individuals. Since then, unfortunately, the Monarch Butterfly population in the West has declined. Recent estimates put the population at just over 200,000. Research suggests one reason for the decline is habitat loss for breeding, migrating, and overwintering. Added to that indiscriminate use of chemicals to control insects and weeds can have harmful unintended consequences for monarchs; plus a changing climate is making some habitats less suitable and forcing changes in migratory patterns.
According to the Monarch Joint Venture partnership, there are several ways you can help Monarchs and other pollinators:
If you are not on the immediate coastline plant native milkweed- Find more information on where to locate native milkweeds and other native wildflowers to support monarchs and other pollinators on the Milkweed Vendor Map.
Participate in Community Science Programs—Learn more about community science programs in your area. Please note that, according to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, you must have a scientific collection permit to handle monarchs in California.
Educate others about monarchs and pollinators and how they can contribute to the solution. One great way to become a Monarch ambassador is to take one of Monarch Joint Venture's online courses.
Limit pesticide use that may cause unintended harm to monarchs and other beneficial insects. Learn more about pesticides and monarchs.
View the Western Monarch Call to Action to learn more about what you can do to support western monarchs.
Great story I didn't know about the 94 - 95 storms.