Each October in central Texas, starting around the 10th or so, I looked forward to the arrival of monarch butterflies migrating to Mexico. On a clear blue day, they’d appear from over the valley to the north, float high above us, and on toward the southern valley and horizon. So pretty, with such focused intention. Such a journey, and as best we can tell, unplanned, not thought about nor discussed in advance. Do external factors trigger takeoff? Internal factors? There's still debate.

It's crushing to see a monarch hit by a car. A traveler who has clocked 1000 miles already, not to make the destination, but to meet an abrupt end flapping too low over the highway, struggling perhaps against an air current from the south.

On optimal days, they fly so high they can’t be seen until sunset approaches when they gradually lose altitude as they hunt for a resting spot for the night. We’d go for walks in the cool glowing early evening light, and there would be butterflies, like little planes, gliding in for landing.

I thought last year, leaving Texas for good at the beginning of October, I'd have no opportunity to see that season's migrants. But, after I visited one son in Memphis and started heading west, crossing Oklahoma and Kansas, there they were. Perfect timing, the week before they would reach Austin, one after the other coming from my right, and floating onward to the left. Alone in my car, I felt allied with the butterflies. We weren’t heading for the same place, but perhaps we shared the instinct for fall flight, the same urgency.

This year, there was no chance at all of witnessing the fliers, right? But I didn't count on travel. I spent a weekend near Deerfield, Massachusetts at a Shintaido workshop. During the warm-ups of the first class, I gazed upward and froze. Two monarchs sailed above the broad field, their distinctive way of flight, their orange and black pane-glass beauty unmistakable.

How could that be? Today, I checked a website sent to me that shows this year’s migration:
http://tinyurl.com/ytdmt3

It seems again I ended up in the thick of the migration, just much nearer the northeastern origin.

Did those two monarchs over the dojo make it as far as central Texas? Have they reached Mexico yet?

I mean—it took me two airplanes to get back just this far from Massachusetts. Those guys were winging it on their own-no engines, no petroleum products, no complimentary beverages-with much farther to go. Doesn't that just blow you away?

With some luck and a good norther or two, perhaps as I type, they're hanging on to a tree trunk on a mountainside in Mexico…





BTW, here’s the url to a lovely monarch photo taken by my friend Janis:
http://janisherdphoto.com/p739669543/?photo=h3A1061EF#974152175