Lori Franz
The Monarch season begins sometime in June, as a generation of Monarchs arrive in Manitoba from the Southern states. They have flown 3000 km and arrive here with tattered wings from the rigors of flying 50 kilometers a day. They quickly get to work by laying tiny white eggs on the leaves of milkweed, the only food source a Monarch caterpillar will eat.
At this time I venture out into the prairie ditches of Manitoba, testing my back and hamstring flexibility by pouring over milkweed to find the tiniest treasures. Hope in the form of a tiny Monarch egg. I can feel my excitement as I find more eggs, 1, 2 and before I know it, 30 eggs in my care and many, many more to find. I wait. 3 days, 4 days, 5 days, and the tiniest creatures emerge from the shell with 1 goal in mind. Grow.
Over the next days these minuscule beings, will grow by 2000%. Shedding their skin 5 times and eating so much milkweed leaving me with serious janitorial duties to keep their home clean. Everyday they need food, so I wander back to the prairie ditch, spotting more eggs, or wild born caterpillars, but I also notice other creatures I haven't seen before. More habitat for the nearly endangered Monarch, pollinator and nectar plants, and without a doubt, varieties of milkweed for my Monarch friends.
I know a major change is coming when the biggest fattest caterpillars begin to wander. Higher they go to the top of the enclosure, spin a sturdy silk pad and hang themself into a J. Within 24 hours the caterpillar will be gone, and instead a gold rimmed, turquoise green Chrysalis emerges. This miracle of nature, up close, and visible, connecting me to wonders I could and did not observe before.
The greatest transformation is yet to come. Within those Chrysalis walls the butterfly forms. A thorax, an abdomen, a beating heart, proboscis, legs, wings. Time passes and suddenly the Chrysalis grows dark, with splashes of orange wings shinning through the now clear final skin. The Chrysalis cracks and out the Monarch emerges, pumping fluid into the wings to enlarge and dry them. 3 hours of rest and after nearly a month in my care, a butterfly is ready to go. She climbs on my finger, and with a few test flaps of the wings, she is gone. And off I wander, hearing the call of the prarie ditch to do it all over again.
