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Steven A. Holt - The Boston Globe go to original


| | A monarch emerges from a chrysalis in Maine. It takes four or five generations to reach New England from Mexico. (Steven A. Holt/Boston Globe) | | | Angangueo, Mexico - Imagine a magnificent New England late-fall day: There's a gentle breeze, and the falling leaves fill the air between tree limbs and ground.
 Now imagine that each leaf is a butterfly.
 I am in awe, standing among millions of monarchs at El Rosario Butterfly Sanctuary, not far from the village of Angangueo. The experience is dreamlike. The abundance of orange-and-black wings beating gently as the sun warms the day is almost overwhelming.
 I try to imagine the places from which these butterflies have flown, as far away as 2,000 miles or more, across New England, the Great Lakes, and southern Canada.
 I'm in the mountains of Mexico, west northwest of Mexico City, to witness the gathering of monarch butterflies in some of their overwintering grounds. For four days I will visit three of the four sanctuaries that allow visitors.
 I'm here with more than a dozen others, equipped with binoculars, cameras, water bottles, and aspirin for the altitude. Our trip is sponsored through National Wildlife Federation Expeditions. With us is Kim Winter, manager of its habitats program and a specialist in pollinators. Natural Habitat Adventures, our outfitter, has provided our guides, Juan Carlos Robertson from Cancún and Astrid Frisch from Puerto Vallarta, who has been leading butterfly expeditions for 10 years.
 We range in age from 52 to 76, come from all over the United States, and are eager to learn more about the life cycle and natural history of these insects.
 It takes four or five generations of monarchs to reach New England, the Great Lakes, or southern Canada from Mexico. After mating in Mexico most females lay their eggs in Texas, then die. The next generation will continue north, mating and laying their eggs, living four to six weeks and then dying, until the fourth or fifth generation arrives in the northern United States and southern Canada.
 As summer turns to fall, the sexual cycle of the butterfly stops, and the butterflies that we see in New England, the Great Lakes, and southern Canada begin the more-than-2,000-mile journey to Mexico, where they will spend the winter, live for about six months, and start the process all over again. Monarchs from west of the Rockies migrate to California; those from east of the Rockies head to Mexico.
 These monarchs have never been here before. Much speculation exists about how they navigate their way. Magnetic fields in the earth, seasonal changes in the angle of the light and accompanying temperature shifts, the scent of last year's dying monarchs are all common theories, but there is no definitive answer.
 On the eastern border of the state of Michoacán is the village of Angangueo (about 9,000 feet above sea level). We learn that most of the monarchs' winter sanctuaries are 9,000 to 11,000 feet in elevation, providing the perfect combination of cover, temperature, and moisture for their months of semidormancy.
 Driving into the town we pass sweet peas, roses, potted geraniums, and calla lilies. Historically, this has been a silver mining village. It is now one of the jumping-off points to visit at least two of the monarch sanctuaries, El Rosario and Sierra Chincua.
 El Rosario Butterfly Sanctuary is nearly 4 miles from Angangueo, to the north of Zitácuaro.
 We bounce around in the back of a mostly-open canopied truck and within minutes of ascending a hill through town, we see our first butterflies. Their numbers grow as we continue uphill. We see them flying toward and around us. The density increases, and Frisch tells us that it is unusual to see so many before entering the sanctuary, but recent days have been unusually warm.
 The hike up to El Rosario is strenuous, starting with steps and stairs and gradually giving way to trails and paths. We all make it to the top, where millions of butterflies are dripping in clusters from the oyamel fir trees, fluttering in the sun, and alighting on plants, trees, flowers, hats, and backpacks. The amazing creatures are in flight all around us.
 El Rosario was "discovered" in 1975 and is the most popular of the sanctuaries.
 Frisch said the first three colonies to be discovered were at Cerro Pelon, Chincua, and El Rosario. Today, Chincua and El Rosario, along with Piedra Herrada and El Capulin, are open to the public.
 On the second day we visited Chincua. Although the trail up wasn't as steep as El Rosario's, local men with horses transported us up the slope for a significant portion of the trail. Then it was a short hike to where the monarchs were congregating.
 Here, high on a mountain top, there was an amazing view not only of the butterflies all around, but also of the valley below and the hillsides beyond. Because of the warmth of the day and the bright sun, we were surrounded by many more butterflies than the day before.
 As one of the sites more recently opened for monarch viewing, Piedra Herrada feels less traveled and one feels a bit more the sense of discovery.
 On our way out there was a police car parked in the middle of the road, stopping traffic, alerting vehicles to "go slow" since there was a blizzard of flying monarchs in the airspace just above the mountain pass.
 We stopped along the road to enjoy this visual treat.
 That night we stayed at the Hotel Avandaro in Valle de Bravo, on the man-made lake Laguna de Avándaro. The lake was created for electricity production, but now is used as a source of water for Mexico City and Toluca.
 The monarchs have three main predators in Mexico: the black-backed oriole, the black-headed grosbeak, and the black-eared mouse.
 Although the monarch is not an endangered species, its migration pattern is an "endangered phenomenon."
 Each year, sprawl destroys more milkweed, the sole source of food for monarchs in their caterpillar stage.
 In Mexico, local economies often depend on logging and much illegal logging still exists, even in government-protected sanctuaries.
 Slowly, the areas around the sanctuaries are changing as tourism is supplanting logging as a chief source of income.
 Steven A. Holt can be reached at stevenaholt(at)gmail.com. |