The Season's Final Flight Against Long Odds

     Keith emerged from his chrysalis on October 28th, the latest eclosure we had ever experienced. The time of day, nearly 2 PM, was out of rhythm as well. A new Monarch like most butterflies has a checklist of things to accomplish, and thus tries to get a reasonable early start on the day. Among other things, they must fill out and dry their wings, assemble the two halves of the proboscis (without which they cannot eat), get some nutrients and fluid in, flex their wings, and fly even if only to the top of a nearby tree. Normally, they begin their checklist, while hanging on to the shell of the chrysalis from which they have just emerged. Keith behaved differently, immediately leaving the chrysalis and climbing up on uncertain legs the skinny leaves of the willow sapling which scarcely held him. We moved a potted lantana closer, above, and he climbed over, but never looked comfortable. Of greater concern was Stephanie's observation that she had not seen the mouth motions characteristic of assembling the proboscis. Night was approaching, the temperature was dropping, and it became clear Keith, the butterfly,  was continuing as a guest in the mesh cage on our porch. 
      He did not attempt to fly. 

       Two days later he was still in the cage, and still not eating well, if at all. Like  parents with a fussy child, we brought in the best remaining flowers from the garden, placed sliced oranges on the floors of the cage  and cotton pads soaking in a diluted honey-water blend on the mesh roof. None of these initially succeeded but eventually, it appeared he might finally be tapping the pads on the roof. There were short flights from leaf to leaf. 

      He lacked strength, but he was beautiful. We still worried about his ability to eat. 

       By Halloween, it became clear that the weather was as good as it was going to get, and it was time to get going. Time to kick him out of the nest, when his narrow window was as wide as it was going to get. Being new to birthing butterflies indoors, we worried that his instincts to fly south might be weakening.  We opened the doors. 

        When he wouldn't fly out on his own, Rick cut the butterfly bush bloom and nudged it under Keith until he stepped on it, and then we carried the bloom outside. Keith just hung there, not flying for some time, but finally did unfurl his tightly wound proboscis. His aim appeared off but he was using it, and on our big photo monitor it does appear to have been fused. He seemed to be a perfect Monarch. 

          While we were inside, Keith flew off. His odds were certainly long, his strength uncertain, but we hope that he is headed to Mexico.  For Stephanie and me, it was a strange end to a baffling season that was filled with happy surprises and head-scratching failures. Five Monarchs and three Black Swallowtails had hatched -- that makes it a success right there. But also whole broods had been lost. Plants thrived and then suddenly died. The Milkweed struggled to flower and seed. We have so much more to learn about our plants and our soil, about the variable populations of the butterfly species in our region, and about ourselves as the gardeners and caretakers. 
           We take these hurdles in stride, as the year has been a marvelous adventure that we have loved sharing with our community. As the cold sets in, we know that we will work hard to understand the lessons of 2021 and get as ready as we can for 2022. Thank you all so much for coming to the garden, sending your comments, and sharing the adventure with us.