Monarchs in flight: Saving our fluttering treasures

On a quiet Tuesday, U.S. wildlife officials, with an air of both resolve and regret, unveiled their intent to extend federal protections to the delicate monarch butterfly—a creature whose presence evokes a profound sense of wonder yet whose existence teeters precariously.

For years, environmentalists have sounded the alarm, warning that the monarch’s numbers dwindle ominously, their shimmering wings an emblem of a vanishing world threatened by the inexorable march of climate change.

In a gesture of both hope and urgency, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced plans to include the monarch among the species safeguarded under the threatened list. This decision, pending an extensive period of public discourse, is set to materialize by the end of the following year.

“The monarch butterfly, an emblem of nature’s artistry, weaves its enchantment across North America, captivating children and adults alike with the mystery of its life cycle,” reflected Martha Williams, Director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, in a statement tinged with reverence.

“Although its delicate frame belies its strength, the monarch, like much of the natural world, shows a remarkable resilience—if only we allow it the chance. Science compels us to act, and this proposed listing is a clarion call, inviting an unprecedented partnership with the public to shape a brighter future for monarch conservation.”

The Endangered Species Act, a statute imbued with both legal and moral weight, offers comprehensive protections to species deemed endangered or threatened. For those enshrined within its pages, acts such as importation, exportation, possession, or harm are forbidden. A threatened designation, however, allows for measured exceptions—a pragmatic balance between preservation and human activity.

In the case of the monarch, the proposed protections would broadly prohibit the intentional killing or transportation of the butterfly. Yet, humanity’s coexistence with nature permits certain concessions. Landowners and farmers may still remove milkweed—an essential sustenance for monarch caterpillars—from their gardens and fields, though actions rendering the land permanently inhospitable to the species would be forbidden.

Incidental casualties, such as those caused by vehicles, would be tolerated, and individuals would retain the right to transport small numbers of monarchs, ensuring their role in educational endeavors endures.

“We hope that the gentle ritual of raising caterpillars and monarchs in homes across the country continues, and that these moments of connection foster not only education but reverence,” remarked Lori Nordstrom, assistant regional director for ecological services in the wildlife service’s Midwest region.

Her words carried the tender acknowledgment that the monarch’s fragile existence hinges on both scientific action and the quiet devotion of ordinary people.

Central to this proposal is the designation of 4,395 acres across seven coastal California counties—land where monarchs west of the Rocky Mountains find sanctuary during winter. This expanse, now deemed critical habitat, stands as a testament to the butterfly’s enduring place in the rhythms of migration.

Within this hallowed ground, federal agencies would be prohibited from actions that destroy or irreparably alter the habitat. Yet the designation is not an unyielding barrier to progress. Development, where permissible, must tread with care; landowners requiring federal licenses or permits for their projects would engage in a delicate dance with the wildlife service to mitigate harm.

The path to this formal proposal has been as winding and tenuous as the monarch’s own migration. It began in 2014 when the Center for Biological Diversity petitioned the wildlife service to list the monarch as a threatened species, a call to action that resonated like a faint echo against the vast and indifferent hum of the world.

Later that year, the agency commenced a meticulous review of the butterfly’s plight, only to conclude, six years hence, that while the monarch merited protection, other species in graver peril must take precedence.

This apparent impasse did not quell the resolve of those who championed the monarch’s cause. A federal lawsuit, filed by the Center, culminated in a settlement in 2022, compelling the government to render its decision by September 2024. Even then, the sands of bureaucracy shifted, and an extension pushed the deadline to December. Yet, as with the monarch’s own fragile flight, perseverance propels the journey forward, driven by the hope that this luminous creature might yet endure.

Monarch butterflies from Canada stop to rest in Wendy Park on their way to Mexico, Sept. 12, 2023, in Cleveland./(File)

Environmentalists, with voices at once urgent and sorrowful, have long observed the monarch’s dwindling numbers, tracing their plight to the warming embrace of a changing climate, the relentless sprawl of agriculture, and the widespread use of herbicides that choke out milkweed—the life-sustaining cradle of monarch caterpillars. The delicate interplay of these forces has not only imperiled the butterfly but also revealed the fragility of the intricate ecosystems upon which it depends.

The Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (CMS), a sentinel for migratory creatures across the globe, has foreseen a profound shift as the planet warms. Milkweed, driven by its own quiet resilience, may retreat toward the poles in search of more hospitable climes. Such a shift would impose a cruel irony: forcing the monarch to travel ever greater distances, their precious time for breeding eroded by the exigencies of survival.

Yet it is not merely the shifting landscape that threatens these ephemeral creatures. The warming air itself conspires against them. Temperature changes, subtle yet unyielding, risk disorienting the monarch’s fabled migrations. Warmer seasons may delay or even prevent their northward return, disrupting a journey that has, for countless generations, symbolized nature’s profound choreography

Their overwintering sanctuaries, too, are at risk. Monarchs seek forests where the air is cold enough to slow their vital processes but not so frigid as to freeze them into oblivion. The CMS has cautioned that these shifts in temperature may unravel the delicate threads of their survival, spelling doom for this most enchanting of insects.

Kristen Lundh, a biologist with the wildlife service, reflected on the somber calculus behind the agency’s decision. The monarch, she explained, is to be proposed as a threatened species rather than an endangered one, for its extinction is not yet imminent across the full sweep of its range. Still, the numbers paint a grim portrait.

Monarchs west of the Rockies face a staggering 95% likelihood of extinction by 2080. East of the Rockies, where the majority—nearly 90%—of the population resides, the probability hovers between 57% and 74%. These figures, though less dire, carry their own quiet tragedy.

The announcement on Tuesday marks the beginning of a 90-day public comment period, a fleeting window in which voices from all corners may weigh in on the monarch’s fate. Afterward, the wildlife service will deliberate—tweaking the proposal, embracing it in its entirety, or, perhaps, abandoning the effort. The agency has until December 2025 to render its final decision. Until then, the monarch’s future, as luminous and ephemeral as its wings, hangs delicately in the balance, awaiting the verdict of human resolve.