April 7, 2014
Dearest Northern Friends:
The monarchs are gone! The last left only some hours ago.
When I visited Rio Grande on Saturday, April 5th, there were only some small clusters left. Something told me it was a matter of days, if not hours, for the last monarchs to leave.
Today, Monday the 7th, I went to the Rio Grande site around 6 p.m, hoping for a possible surprise. But not a single living monarch remained. They are really gone now.
How long ago? I wondered to myself, having just stood at that same site only 48 hours earlier. I walked into the forest hoping that they might have simply moved a few meters away.
Of course not. Absolutely not. My camera started shooting evidences of the empty site.
A scarce carpet of dead butterflies covered the ground and part of the weak Río Grande stream. It seemed as if handfuls of butterflies decorated the quiet ponds, like floating orange flowers.
The silence of the forest, the singing of a couple of birds, and the last rays of sun left a lonely feeling inside me. We who have grown up with monarchs as part of our lives must bid good bye now.
One more generation is passing. Their offspring — and the several generations that follow — will face hardships to survive but will triumphantly send us a new generation for whom we will be enthusiastically awaiting next November.
At leaving the forest, meters before reaching the VW, I heard the voices of Joel and Christian screaming from afar. As soon as they saw me appearing amongst the Oyamel trees, they ran to me and told me:
"Estela, they just left yesterday (Sunday, April 6), and the last few left this morning (April 7)."
After a moment of inner-secret sadness, Joel broke the silence by saying:
"Estela, I would like to tell our friends in the North that one big joy we keep for us is the intensive mating activity observed during the last weeks. Thinking that every female Monarchs is carrying 400-600 eggs in them, could assure a very important recuperation of the population for the next generations. So we can say the work is done by the generation in Central Mexico's Sanctuaries and by us and by our families too. And maybe next year we will have many more Monarchs coming to overwinter with us!"
Wiser none could have been than Joel today at saying this precious truth.
We embraced each other and I invited them to get on the car and to go to the nearest store to buy some snacks before saying good bye as if celebrating and preparing ourselves for the coming season!
Thus ends the season for us, dear friends, in the sanctuaries of Central México. What will it be for you now that the monarchs are crossing the continent on their long journey north?
Receive our fondest feelings of friendship from all and everyone of the children living around the Monarchs Sanctuaries in the mountains of Angangueo, México!
Until next fall,
Angangueo, Michoacán, México. April 07, 2014.
April 5, 2014
Dear Friends,
Joel, Christian and I were again meeting today at our appointment point, excited at guessing what we would see at the end of our 15 minute-walk into the Río Grande Site.
We were making lots of speculations about the possibilities to find --or not-- any Monarchs at the site. We were also exchanging impressions at how temperatures rise slowly but consistently in our región and assuring to each other that Monarchs might have delayed their leaving due to the rather fresh-little cloudy days we have been having during the last 2-3 weeks, about which forecasting system in our regional radio stations assure that the start of the raining season is coming earlier for us this year, --which we like, definately--, since rivers are carrying very poor streams of water this Spring.
All of a sudden, there we were. Only some hundreds of Monarchs left, small clusters at 2-3 trees, a few more flying around in the wonderful sunny morning, and only average of six couples mating within a 100 meter-ratio.
Our pace slowed down, silence imposed among us, until we could express only some resignation expressions to each other, not helping but to show rather sadness in our eyes and tone of voice, accepting that it would have been almost imposible to find a similar concentration and fantastic performance as we saw exactly one week ago.
Without rather pronouncing a word, we knew it was now time to keep quiet, to seat together beside each other and to innerly bid farewell to our Monarch butterflies this season. Only the beautiful whishles of two "Jilgueros" (name for a bird, for us) and the melody of the air moving the branches of trees could make us stand the moment from feeling sadder. The beautiful noise of Monarchs wings would of course not appear at all anymore now.
That it was. A while later, we then knew it was time to say good bye, and silent again the three of us, without being able to turn our backs on the few hundreds of courageous Monarchs left, we automatically crept back facing all the time, as long as possible, our faces to them as if wanting to keep the image of these last handfuls of miraculous Matusalén Monarchs due to leave within the next days of this very week.
It is now on you, dear Northern friends, to cross fingers while the pregnant female Monarchs on their way now will find shelter, food and home as they have during all these decades to start a new cycle of their mysterious existence.
Your local reporter,
Estela Romero
Angangueo, Michocán, México
