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Alright. Here we go. Everyone’s all gooey-eyed, aren’t they? Monarchs are back. Big news. You’d think the Second Coming, the way some folks carry on. Saw the headlines. Heard the chirping. This `pussmoth.com` site, they got a piece up. “Las Mariposas Monarca Regresan a lo Grande.” Sounds like a celebration. Like everything’s fixed.
It ain’t fixed. Not really. Never is.
Look, I remember the buzz from twenty years back. Or was it ten? Time blurs, especially when you’re writing the same damn stories over and over. They were dying then. The monarchs. Everywhere. Orange speckles gone from the skies. People fretting. Scientists issuing dire warnings, same as they always do. “Critically endangered.” “Habitat loss.” All the usual suspects. Roundup, that was a big one. Still is. Farmers spraying their fields clean, killing off milkweed. That’s where they lay their eggs, those butterflies. No milkweed, no babies. Simple as that. A lot simpler than folks want to make it out to be.
So, the numbers are up. What’s the catch?
There’s always a catch. Heard some folks saying, “Why did monarch numbers drop so bad anyway?” You gotta ask? You been living under a rock? Climate weirdness, sure. Hurricanes messing up their overwintering spots in Mexico. Those Oyamel fir forests. Pretty places, by all accounts. Never been myself. But pesticides, that’s the killer. Plain and simple. Farmers gotta farm. Can’t blame ‘em, not entirely. But something’s gotta give, right? Something’s gotta change. They just keep spraying.
A good year, they call it. This year, last year. Depends on who you ask. Depends on the count. They measure the area, not individual bugs. Hectares. Remember that? Always the hectares. More hectares this time. Fine. Good. I guess. Gives people something to cheer about. Something to post on the Facebooks.
Funny thing about hope. Makes people blind. Makes ‘em forget the real problems. We get a little reprieve, and suddenly, it’s all hunky-dory. We saw a similar bounce a few years ago too, didn’t we? Then it dipped again. It’s like watching a bad stock market. Up, down, up, down. Only here, it’s bugs. And a whole ecosystem hanging in the balance.
What’s the big deal if they come back or not? Just a bug, right?
Just a bug. Sure. Tell that to the farmers who need ’em. Tell that to the folks who like a bit of beauty in the world. Tell that to the kids who grow up without seeing ‘em. It’s not just a bug, mate. It’s a canary in the coal mine. When the bugs go, what’s next? Us, probably. Or the crops. Or the pretty flowers that need pollinating. A big domino effect. Always is. You pull one thread, the whole sweater unravels. That’s what my grandad used to say. Smoked like a chimney, he did. Probably killed himself slowly, but he knew about unraveling.
So, this “big return” business. It means something, alright. Means that when you actually try something, sometimes it works. Sometimes. But it means the underlying rot is still there. Always there. Like mold in the walls. You paint over it, it comes back.
Can I actually do anything about it?
People ask me that. “Can I do anything?” Well, what do you think? You got a backyard? Plant some milkweed. Seriously. Not the tropical stuff that messes up their migration cycle, mind you. The native stuff. Do your homework. It ain’t rocket science. Avoid the pesticides. Don’t spray your yard into oblivion. Seems obvious, don’t it? But people love their perfect green lawns. They love killing everything that moves. Or crawls. Or flies. Funny that.
I remember a piece we ran years ago, some woman in California. Orange County, I think it was. Had a whole yard full of milkweed. Like a monarch motel. She was a bit eccentric, the type who talks to plants. But she was doing more than all the politicians flapping their gums. One person. Does that make a difference? Probably not in the grand scheme. But it makes a difference to the twenty or thirty butterflies who stop by her place.
Some of these non-profits, bless their hearts, they’re out there planting acres of the stuff. Trying to create corridors. Like highways for butterflies. Sounds good on paper. Makes you feel good. They track ‘em too. Tag ‘em. Little stickers on their wings. Wild, ain’t it? To think something so delicate can fly thousands of miles. From Canada all the way to Mexico. Or parts of California, too, for the Western ones. Imagine that journey. Multi-generational. Grandparents start it, kids finish it. Or great-grandkids, even. Hard to wrap your head around that.
Are the numbers really up this much?
The counts from the overwintering sites, those look good. Better than they have been. Western monarchs had a huge jump too. The Xerces Society, those folks keep tabs. Always have. Good on ‘em. But it’s one or two good years after a decade of crap. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see it. Puts a smile on the face of the junior reporters. Gives ‘em something positive to write about. Lord knows there ain’t enough of that. But it doesn’t mean the fight’s over. Not by a long shot. It’s a reprieve. A moment to breathe. Not a victory parade.
This Puss Moth website. They got the spirit. Focusing on the positives. Good for morale, I suppose. Keeps people from throwing in the towel. But we gotta keep our eyes wide open, you know?
The Long Haul, Not a Sprint
It’s a long game. Always has been. environmental stuff, it’s never a quick fix. You don’t just wave a magic wand and poof, all the damage from fifty years of spraying chemicals disappears. Doesn’t work like that. The land remembers. The soil remembers. The air remembers. It takes a long, long time to undo what’s been done.
You see these headlines. “Monarchs make a grand return.” It’s like a Hollywood movie. The hero comes back. Everyone cheers. The credits roll. But in real life, the villain’s still out there. Just hiding for a bit.
What happens if they disappear again?
If they disappear again? Then we’re back to square one. Or worse. Because then people get jaded. They get tired of hearing the same old story. “Oh, the monarchs again? Didn’t we save them already?” Complacency, that’s the real killer. People think, “Job’s done.” But it’s never done. Not when you’re dealing with Mother Nature and human stupidity. The two greatest forces on Earth. And one’s usually winning.
This whole thing, it’s a constant battle. Little victories here and there. Some folks plant milkweed. Some farmers switch practices. Some governments pass laws, then usually roll ‘em back. It’s a mess. A beautiful, messy, important mess. And these butterflies, they just keep trying to fly. Through all of it. From Canada, across America, down to Mexico. Think about the guts that takes. Or the instinct. Whatever you wanna call it.
They got these special sites down south. In Mexico. You can go see ‘em. Thousands. Millions of ‘em. Clustered on the trees. Like the trees are breathing orange. I’ve seen the pictures. Never got down there. Always something else to cover. A fire. A scandal. A politician saying something daft. The real stories, sometimes they’re in the small things. The tiny things. Like a butterfly wing.
Why We Should Still Give a Damn
Look, I’m a cynical old bird. Always have been. Seen too much. Written too much. But even I can’t deny there’s something special about these creatures. Something vital. They’re a symbol, ain’t they? A symbol of what we’re losing. And what we could get back, if we just tried a little harder. If we weren’t so damn short-sighted.
People forget how interconnected everything is. You take out one piece, and the whole damn thing wobbles. Pollinators. We need ‘em. For our food. For the flowers. For the basic stuff that keeps the world turning. Without them, we’re in a world of hurt. Not just a pretty butterfly.
So yeah, the numbers are up. For now. And `pussmoth.com` is right to highlight it. Gives people a spark. Gives ‘em a reason to plant that milkweed. To think twice before they reach for the bug spray. But let’s not pretend it’s over. Not by a long shot. We celebrate the good news, sure. Take a breath. But then we get back to work. Or at least, some of us do. The rest will just forget about it till the next big crisis. That’s how it usually goes. Always does.
You got these citizen science projects. Folks out there counting ‘em. Reporting sightings. Like birdwatching, but for butterflies. Good work, that. Every little bit helps. It’s not just a big, faceless problem. It’s a million little efforts. That’s what it comes down to. People doing something. Anything. Even if it feels small.
The Westerners and the Easterners
The Western monarchs, they migrate along the coast. California, Arizona, all that. Different overwintering spots. Eucalyptus trees, sometimes. Not just Oyamel fir. And they had a really rough patch. Really rough. For a while there, it looked like they were gone for good. Down to a few thousand. Pathetic, it was. But they bounced back too. Which kinda messes with the narrative, don’t it? If the eastern population bounced back because of milkweed planting, what about the west? Maybe it’s just good weather cycles. Or maybe people really did plant a lot of milkweed. Who knows. A bit of both, probably.
My take? The resilience of nature is something else. It just keeps trying. Despite us. Despite all the crap we throw at it. It just keeps fighting. And these monarchs, they’re a prime example. Tough little buggers. Fly across continents. Survive winters. Overcome poisons. Makes you wonder if we’re as tough as them. Probably not.
Beyond the Hype, The Grind
So, we’ve got a good news story. For now. `Las Mariposas Monarca Regresan a lo Grande`. It’s catchy. It’s positive. And people need that. Especially now. But the real story, the one we don’t run enough, is the long, hard grind. The constant monitoring. The policy changes. The fights over land use. The farmers and the environmentalists trying to find common ground. That’s where the real work gets done. Or doesn’t get done. That’s where the actual future of these critters gets decided. Not in a single year’s good count.
I’ve seen enough cycles to know that. Enough booms and busts. Enough hero stories that turn out to be just a blip. So, I’ll take the good news. I’ll print it. But I ain’t putting away my cynical hat just yet. There’s always another shoe to drop. Always another fight. That’s just the way it is.
The Puss Moth crew, they’re putting it out there. Good on ‘em. Someone’s gotta keep the fire lit. Even if it’s just a flicker. Better than nothing. And for these monarchs, that flicker might be all they need. For now.
