HollerPhenology

Seasonal shifts inside and out

Screen shot of a Status of Spring page map at USA National Phenology Network

A few days ago I saw four turkey hens feeding together in the field where at least one of them will probably raise some chicks in a few months. Overhead the same day, I heard calls of two red-shouldered hawks, followed immediately by loud squawks of a whistle-blowing blue jay. Yesterday, the first iridescent blue flash of the season signaled the arrival of an indigo bunting.

I read all of these as signs of a seasonal shift, though a sense of spring swirling inside me revealed itself well before these outer manifestations. Lately I've made all treks up and down the holler -- on foot or in the car -- with a more intentional gaze toward the places where toothwort, rue anemone, Carolina spring beauty and trout lily will soon evoke my surprise and delight.

I also messed around in my planter garden this week, poking in a few bulbs, cutting back dead stems, making mind-notes about stuff I need to do before sowing herbs or buying a few blossoming annuals for early insect and hummingbird visitors. This year I'm recycling parts of old flower pots to make a shelter for toads that hang around the planters.

Is all of this happening earlier than usual? And what's the weather outlook?

As I write this, it's 43 degrees outside. We've had rain and flash flood watches for the last 3 days. The predicted low for tonight is 21 degrees; predicted high for tomorrow is only 37, with an even colder low at 18 degrees. Saturday will be warmer. This pattern has circled around two or three times since 2020 began and probably will repeat itself over the next few weeks.

I'll be monitoring my planters and the rest of the holler to see how plants and birds are faring with this meteorological chaos.

See these articles/pages for more on the challenges of an early spring to trees and flowering plants:

Spring has arrived weeks early in the South (Washington Post 2/13/20)

Status of Spring page at USA National Phenology Network

 

I guess it's spring now.

Amur honeysuckle (Lonicera maackii) leaves on March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I'm going to start this post with an ecopsychological observation as well as a phenological one. This past January 8th, I sensed (rather than saw) a fluttering outside my study window, and turned just in time to see an eastern comma flapping -- somewhat frantically, I thought -- against the glass.

Granted, commas are often the first butterfly species I see every year. But not in January. I felt little joy in seeing it. It was way too early. With some urgency I wondered if I was missing new phenophases of other species I observe in the holler. I often reduce the frequency of holler walks in the winter months. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually for me, it was still winter. I did not feel ready for it to be spring. And if there were things popping up and out already, I had concerns for the consequences to each and every one of them.

Multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora) on March 10, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

As calendar-winter went on -- with continued warm spells punctuated by serious cold ones, and more rain, more often than I have ever seen since I moved to Tennessee -- I noted that no trees, shrubs or forbs were taking the bait. My quince bushes eventually began to produce small flower buds, but they didn't swell or open, and endured a few 9- and 10-degree lows very well. By mid-February, daffodils were up and flowering throughout the larger Terry Creek drainage to which my holler's creeks contribute. Orange day lily and Siberian iris leaves began poking through the leaf cover on raised beds around my house.

Cutleaf Toothwort (Dentaria laciniata) on March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

By the end of the first week of March, I had observed new, full leaves of Amur honeysuckle and multiflora rose, forsythia flowers, and first leaves of one of the cutleaf toothworts I have flagged (photos above).

Sharp-lobed Hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba), emerging leaves. March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Now I'm also seeing leaves of sharp-lobed Hepatica, and Dogtooth violets (though not in the 2-sq.ft. plots I have marked). All of the red maples I observe for Nature's Notebook have open flowers, and members of this species all the way from the holler down to Knoxville are in some stage of emergence.

Sharp-lobed Hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba) leaves. March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Up in the bird world (I saw/heard very few birds this winter up here in the holler, another point of concern) I've seen and heard an eastern phoebe hanging around old nest sites and calling for a mate. Blue jays, chickadees and cardinals are moving back up into the holler from fields down below. Many of these birds come up here to nest in the forested areas around my house.

And, of course, with the movement of these smaller birds comes the more frequent hunting parties of a resident hawk (red-shouldered or broad-winged, not sure which). I even saw some wild turkeys up in the air last week. And heard some barred owls.

I think it's spring. I've increased the number of phenology observation days significantly. And that feels okay now.

 

Trillium, hepatica, wood anemone and other shifting phenophases this week

 Southern red trillium (Trillium sulcatum) on April 14, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I love that it's raining in the holler today, 4" since yesterday afternoon. First, we needed some; second, I'm content to be huddled indoors with a cup of coffee, my dog and my cat, blogging instead of roaming the holler looking for stuff.

The major flower story in the greater holler neighborhood this week has to be the trillium. Both Southern red and large-flowered trillium (pictured above and below, respectively) have drawn my attention, more so than the yellows (T. luteum) that blend in with the general greenness of early spring. I think there are a few "sweet betsies" (T. cuneatum) around as well, but since their maroon buds have opened, the group I found shows the yellow and green flower form and not the maroon, and they are difficult to differentiate from the yellow trillium around them.

Trillium grandiflorum on April 12, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I may take the back road through the Royal Blue wildlife management area on my next trip to town. I have seen more of the bronze and maroon sweet betsies at the lower end of Old 63 near Jacksboro.

On Friday the 13th, I found some amazing broadleaf toothworts with lots of flowers open. The one below is in a group of 4-5 plants that are quite tall now and looking very sturdy, even after some challenging freezes this week. What drew me to this group was a West Virginia white butterfly sipping at the flowers. I came very close to getting a picture of this butterfly on a species that is a preferred food source for the West Virgina whites in their caterpillar phenophase, but it was flitting around too much to catch a good image.

Broadleaf toothwort (Dentaria diphylla) on April 13, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Very often I start seeing sharp-lobed hepatica about the same time rue anemone comes out. So far, the leaf below is one of the only one's I've seen this season.

Sharp-lobed hepatica leaf (Hepatica acutiloba) on April 9, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Small but conspicuous white flowers of the wood anemone have appeared in the holler this week, many of them growing near other species I routinely observe at Nature's Notebook. I found this one near buckeye-1:

Wood anemone (Anemone quinquifolia) on April 13, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I took its photo because the flower is larger than many I've seen for this species, perhaps because of the rich soil and somewhat protected space it occupies along the banks of Hudson Branch. On my holler walks, I often take several minutes in the space around buckeye-1 just to look around and notice what else is there. The diversity of species in that relatively small area never fails to amaze me.

Robin's plantain (Erigeron pulchellus) on April 14, 2018 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The Robin's plantains are peaking along the drier stretches of Terry Creek Lane. The flowers of this species open at the end of a hairy stem, often several inches above its (also hairy) basal leaves. The plant spreads with runners, which is why I often find them in small colonies along the road. A relative of Robin's plantain, the common fleabane, is ubiquitous around my yard, and just starting to flower this week.

Rue anemone, early buttercup and mountain stonecrop on April 9, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

With more species making their spring appearance, I find intriguing groups of multiple species such as the row of rue anemone, early buttercup and mountain stonecrop above. I love to look for new combinations of plant neighbors on my holler walks.

As the forsythia, Amur honeysuckle and multiflora rose leaves approach full size, the red maples, dogwoods and hop hornbeam are just getting started. The apple and flowering crabapples have a full load of open flowers this week. I think one of the American beech trees I observe will move into the breaking-leaf-bud phenophase within the next 1-3 days.

This week I can report that carpenter bees, honey bees and other pollinators are present around the house and, especially, the apple and crabapple blossoms.

Early yesterday morning, I drove to Knoxville with the windows down. From my end of the holler all the way to the interstate I heard black-capped chickadees and tufted titmice calling out and being answered by others of their own species. When I got back to the holler that afternoon, I saw my first fox sparrow in awhile, and even caught a little bit of it in a photo. During the week, I heard titmouse, chickadee, white-eyed vireo, blue-headed vireo and Carolina wren songs several times a day.

The most amazing and lucky day for two blue jays happened on Friday the 13th, when a red-shouldered hawk came swooping down at them. The jays crowded in toward the trunk of a huge hemlock and managed to avoid persistent attempts by the hawk to get at them. The tangle of branches and needles prevented the hawk, with its larger wingspan, from getting close enough to catch the jays.

A neighbor shared a fun link to the Tennessee Wildlife Resource Agency's live elk cam on Hatfield Knob in the North Cumberland Wildlife Management Area. I saw elk several times when I checked the webpage, and even observed some courtship behavior during one viewing.

And the rain continues: 4.5 inches in the rain gauge now.

 

Caught in the act: Buckeye Bud Burst

Buckeye-1, March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Bucky! I pretty much shouted for joy to have caught Buckeye-1 with leaves just breaking through its bud scales. Such are the simple pleasures of a phenology observer.

When I did my holler walk on March 23rd, I wasn't sure what I'd find. Two inches of snow in the early morning hours and most of the day of the 21st covered most plants. That night and the next, we had freeze warnings, with daytime temperatures just high enough to melt most of the snow. Many of the plants I observe already had leaves, buds or flowers; I guessed others were close to popping up because I'd been seeing their relatives in lower elevations of the holler for several days.

Trillium grandiflorum, March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

When I finally got out for a closer look on the 23rd, I found everybody in good shape. Stuff that had already come up, as well as new arrivals like the buckeye leaves and white trillium (above) looked lively and undamaged. I also found yellow trillium (see photo below), many with buds forming, in several locations by the house and the creek.

Trillium luteum, March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Never knowing what I'll find, and being surprised, is yet another joy of tracking life cycles of plants, birds, insects and animals in the holler. In my last post I noted that yellow trout lily (aka dogtooth violet) leaves had emerged, so I knew buds and flowers would be along soon. Here's what I saw around the marker for dogtooth violet-1 before I even got to the buckeye and trillium flags:

Trout Lily (Erythronium americanum), March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Further down the lane, I noticed that Jewelweed-3's leaves had grown some. The photo below illustrates the presence of initial growth--the larger, rounder structures, and the first phenophase I watch for in spring--as well as the first actual leaves, another phenophase, visible between them at their base. As the leaves grow, the initial growth will turn yellow and drop off. Until then, when I submit data on Nature's Notebook for this plant, I'll mark that I observed both phenophases for Jewelweed-3.

Orange Jewelweed-3 on March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The star chickweed, another common early spring flower in the holler, started coming up about the same time rue anemone did this year. This one only has a couple of flowers now, but during its usual season from April to May, these chickweeds will have many flowers per plant. In the holler, I often find them near violets and trout lilies--very photogenic groupings. I'll try to illustrate this in a future post.

Star chickweed (Stellaria pubera), March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Rue Anemone-1 (below) made it through the snow and freezes and shows one of its flowers fully open and moving toward the seed phenophase. This is one of the plants I thought might take more of a beating with the harsh weather last week. 

Rue Anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides), March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The amur honeysuckle and multiflora rose plants I observe have lots of leaves now, some of which have reached full size, even as other parts of the plant have breaking buds. Here's the multiflora rose on March 23rd:

Multiflora Rose (Rosa multiflora), March 23, 2018. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Last night we had a few minutes of hail accompanied by thunder, lightning and heavy rain here in the holler, a total of 6-inches of rain out of this last system. Many of the flowering plants I observe have at least some shrub and tree cover above them, which helps break the impact of hail. I'm guessing I might see a lot of forsythia blossoms on the ground today, as that bush is more in the open. I hope to get out later to see what's up--or down.

By the way, I added a new Phenology album to my Flickr pages. I'll add photos and comments there that illustrate phenophases of the species I observe for Nature's Notebook. You can also access my photostream from the Flickr link in the sidebar.

Toothwort flowers, yellow trout lily leaves, and other early risers in the holler

Early risers such as this cutleaf toothwort (Dentaria lacinata) continue progress through their phenophases, despite freezing night temperatures. Flower buds on this plant opened around March 17, 2018 [Cathie Bird photo]

 

After my last post, I decided to track daily weather highs and lows more closely for awhile, and notice how different plants fared. So far, the coldest temperatures of any 24-hour cycle have not lasted long -- for the most part, just 2-3 hours of freezing air before it starts getting warmer again. The lows themselves have not been more than 6-7 degrees below 32ºF. I'm speculating that this situation is consistent with weather history of the holler.

I hadn't done such close surveillance before and had not thought much about resilience of wild plants to what seemed pretty darned cold for little lives out in the woods. Thinking more about it this week, in light of considerations for how long earth, air and water stay warm during a day and how long they have to cool down before a reversal, it made more sense to me why most wild things seem to do pretty well even though this human worries about them!

Initial leaf of a yellow trout lily (Erythronium americanum), March 17, 2018. [Cathie Bird photo]

I have seen frost on my car during this period but not on the ground or plants. So far. Most wild plants I observe seem to do okay with one session of frost, but not with several in a row.

Rue Anemone-2 (Thalictrum thalictroides) has moved beyond its initial leaf stage, and has multiple flowers. March 17, 2018. [Cathie Bird photo]

One of the species that has not shown signs of a spring breakout is the apple tree down the lane. When earlier-than-usual warming periods began happening a few years ago, this tree responded with disastrous results. What I notice now is that it doesn't start budding or leafing out during the first warm days, even though other plants do. The quince bushes also seem to have adapted in this way, although they put out what I call "test buds" early, then more as the warm periods stretch out. Speculating again: the apple and quince are making adjustments to a warming climate.

Echinacea leaves are up, March 6, 2018. This particular group grows in front of a large rock that probably serves as a bed warmer of sorts. [Cathie Bird photo]

I'm seeing leaves of several violet species throughout the holler. The haldberdleaf yellow violet (below) grows in the woodland edges close to my house. I don't observe this species for Nature's Notebook, but they are one of my favorite early spring flowers.

Haldberdleaf Yellow Violet (Viola hastata), March 6, 2018. [Cathie Bird photo]

The day I checked on yellow violet progress, I also scanned the area for yellow trillium and leaf bud activity on a nearby Mapleleaf Viburnam. No action here yet, but, on my way back from town on Saturday (the 17th), I spotted a yellow trillium in the lower regions of Terry Creek. I look forward to emergence of the four trillium species that grow in the holler neighborhood.

Narcissus in my rock garden, March 6, 2018.

Activity in rock garden and planter areas includes narcissus, daffodils, phlox and bee balm. Orange daylily and iris leaves are much bigger than they were at the time of my February 27th post. A few dandelions are up, and grass on the lane and around the house will need to be mowed soon.

This morning as I wrote this post, a pair of eastern phoebes flew around an old nesting site on the porchlight above the planters. I'll check later today for placement of new nesting material. They have plenty of bugs to keep them energized for now!

 

American Trees Are Moving West, and No One Knows Why -- The Atlantic

I'm still working on a new blog post, but wanted to share a great article I saw at The Atlantic. I found it fascinating and relevant to the general content of HollerPhenology. The article at Science Advances is open access, and can be downloaded here.

From the article:

About three-quarters of tree species common to eastern American forests—including white oaks, sugar maples, and American hollies—have shifted their population center west since 1980. More than half of the species studied also moved northward during the same period.

These results, among the first to use empirical data to look at how climate change is shaping eastern forests, were published in Science Advances on Wednesday.

Read more...

Earth Day and a drowned out March for Science in the holler

While I work up a post on what I saw in the holler this week, I want to acknowledge that today is Earth Day, and that, across the United States and around the world, thousands of people have shown up to March for Science.

I had planned my own march down the holler to celebrate, combining my (almost) daily holler walk to observe phenophases with contemplation of my role as a citizen scientist. But heavy rain -- 3.5 inches as of 11:30 am -- has so far put a damper on that. I opted to sit on the porch for awhile and listen for birds.

The only ones out in the downpour, however, were an eastern phoebe and a hooded warbler. So, I turned my inner witness toward my own thoughts, reflecting on my life-long connections to nature and (eventually) to formal study of nature through science.

One of my favorite #MarchForScience signs. Photo from a Facebook friend.

The theme that arose today centered on my experience of ways we can know the world. Science as we commonly, humanly understand it is certainly one of those. I find it enjoyable to explore, observe, and question nature with citizen scientist eyes.

Over time, I've discovered other ways of knowing. I've learned not so much to privilege one way over another as to flow between and across them, to integrate the experiences, to welcome awareness of multiple meanings and possiblities.

It's wondrous to me how, on so many holler walks, my citizen-scientist-self -- focused as it is on phenological details of another life -- allows my citizen-philosopher (or some other self) to surface, revealing something new, deepening my relationship with that other being and with the holler as our common home.

Here are some of the articles I've enjoyed reading this week on the #MarchForScience:

March for Science draws big crowds across U.S. (Reuters, April 22, 2017)

Historians say the March for Science is ‘pretty unprecedented’ (Chris Mooney-Washington Post, April 22, 2017)

We Stand for All Sacred Life on Earth (Joe Brewer, April 22, 2017)

How the March for Science Misunderstands Politics (Andrew Jewett in The Atlantic, April 21, 2017)

The March For Science May Be Flawed, But It's More Than Worthy Of Your Support (Kavin Senapathy - Forbes, April 14, 2017)

Showing Up to Shape the Science March (Megan Halpern, March 23, 2017)

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Observing my phenology observer phenophases

I had to laugh a bit the other day as I wondered whether or not there might be phenophases of phenology observers as well as those of the species they observe?

A great-spangled fritillary feeds on the zinnias I added to my 2016 planter garden. [Photo on July 1st: Cathie Bird]

Consider this definition of "phenophase" from USA-National Phenology Network's Project Budburst: "A phenophase is a distinct event in the annual life cycle of a plant or animal in relation to changes in seasons and climate. In plants, examples of these observable events include budburst, first flower, first ripe fruit, and color change."

Well, being human, I am an animal, and being a phenology observer, I am aware of distinct cycles of my own thought, feeling and action in relation to changes in season, climate, and the species I observe.

In spring and summer I spend most of my time observing and recording what I see and hear. I continue to record observations in the fall and winter, but find myself with more time to review experiences of the busier months, or to think about what species I see all the time but don't have on my list.

For me, the quieter months are a good time to mess around with my lists -- to add new plants or animals, or (as I did this month) reorganize my observations into multiple lists rather than one giant one. I now have one list for plants, one for birds, and one for mammals, amphibians and insects -- but all within the same holler. With shorter lists, the online data input goes a little more smoothly.

In the past I've used the slower months to vary the content of posts for HollerPhenology -- stuff on citizen science or species conservation efforts or a more in-depth look at one of the species I observe. I didn't do so well with that the past year, or, for that matter, post as many "what's out in the holler" reports during the busy months as I had hoped to do. I'm thinking about how to write more this year.

My slow season thoughts often include how to make the holler more supportive of species I observe.

My Spring 2016 planter project included an insect and skink friendly watering hole (right). [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I used to put out bird seed and suet, but soon discovered problems here in the Cumberland Mountains that I had not experienced in the mountains of Colorado and New Mexico -- like throwing out seeds that had mildewed in an outdoor raccoon-possum-squirrel-proof container. One day I almost stepped on a timber rattlesnake that was lying in wait for birds beneath a feeder at the same time I was trying to fill it. I decided to encourage bird-bee-and-butterfly-friendly plants after that.

Last spring I planted Coreopsis that did great, butterfly weed that failed to grow, and bee balm that went bananas but did not produce any flowers. A second eruption of baby bee balms from the parent plant in one of my planters are still green even after a brief period of snow and several days of freezing temperatures in the first week of January.

My planter project as it looked on July 1, 2016. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Over the years I’ve also figured out what native flowers I need to protect from mowing and foot/paw traffic. In particular I leave the Leafy Elephant's Foot alone. Goldfinches, wrens, cardinals, sparrows and titmice forage for the thistle-like fruits, especially when it snows, or in early spring before bugs are more plentiful. Last year's crop of Echinacea and Elephantopus suffered because of the severe late summer and fall drought in Tennessee. I noted fewer plants, severe dehydration right when flowers needed water to thrive, and, consequently, fewer fruits. We had such a mild winter here, though, I didn't see many birds foraging in the yard until it began to warm up this month.

Leafy Elephant's Foot (Elephantosus carolinianus), July 31, 2011 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

When I experienced the days of rain instead of snow, and temperatures in the 60's and 70's instead of 30's and 40's during January and February, I anticipated earlier-than-usual budbursts and flowers. I went on green alert early. As of February 26, 2017, I am reporting, in addition to leafout of the multiflora rose above, open flowers on all three red maples and the forsythia I observe.

I also saw spring azure butterflies on several occasions last week. Activity of year-round birds seems to be picking up as well. I'm rushing to get a new phoebe nest platform stained and installed before anybody's ready to use it. It may be too late though. As I was writing this post I saw and heard a male phoebe that came to check out old nest sites. I haven't seen other spring and summer birds up in the forest yet, but I watched an eastern bluebird looking for insects in my neighbors' field on Sunday.

I photographed these leaves of a multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora) on January 22, 2017. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

My sense (now that February has passed without a major snow/ice storm and cold snap) is that spring will indeed be early and that I'll have photos and exciting reports on what's new out in the holler much earlier than usual. Whether this is good news depends on your species and the timing of your phenophases, I'd guess.

I now have some evidence for this. Last week the USGS published an article saying that spring is arriving at least 2-3 weeks early across almost the entire Southeast, from San Antonio to Atlanta to Washington, D.C. Some really interesting maps and USA-NPN data are included in the report. And the maps are built on data that comes from a bunch of citizen scientists like me.

By the way, it's easy to become an observer and engage in critical citizen science on our warming planet. You can sign up and get instruction at USA-NPN's Nature's Notebook.

Based on this brief reflection, I'm ready to explore the notion of phenology observer phenophases further. Full spring ahead!

 

Update on March 1, 2017: What's Dangerous About an Early Spring? (The Atlantic)

 

Citizen scientists can help monarch butterflies -- David Suzuki Foundation

Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus) on Echinacea purpurea. Photo by and (c)2007 Derek Ramsey

 

I found an article from the David Suzuki Foundation yesterday that makes a great pitch for citizen science and for helping out the awesome monarch butterflies, so thought I would share it on HollerPhenology.

The article begins with a brief history of Monarch Watch and its effort to engage citizens in tracking monarch migrations. Now, with monarch populations declining due to human activities such as illegal logging in Mexico, herbicide use on genetically modified crops, and impact on climate change, Suzuki and many others have asked citizens and their governments to take action on behalf of these butterflies:

In February, in response to a letter by Mexican poet Homero Aridjis, signed by more than 100 scientists, writers and environmentalists — including Canadians Margaret Atwood, Michael Ondaatje and John Ralston Saul — U.S. President Barack Obama, Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto and Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper agreed to "establish a working group to ensure the conservation of the monarch butterfly, a species that symbolizes our association."

The letter to leaders said, "As Mexico is addressing the logging issues, so now must the United States and Canada address the effects of our current agricultural policies." Those problematic practices are mainly associated with large-scale planting of corn and soy genetically modified to resist the herbicide Roundup, or glyphosate. It doesn't kill crops — just pretty much everything else, including the milkweed monarchs need to lay their eggs and that is their caterpillars' main food.

The Suzuki Foundation hopes that leaders will honor their agreement, and that citizen scientists will get excited about helping scientists and researchers to better understand monarch life cycles.

Check out some of the "related posts" links below for more information. Or take a look at Monarch Watch's Bring Back the Monarchs campaign page. Another interesting presentation on the monarchs can be found at the website for the film, Flight of the Butterflies.

 

Related articles

Monarch butterfly project: Plant milkweed to support migration

Help Save Monarch Butterfly's: Plant a Milkweed Garden

Why Are Butterflies Disappearing?

Help solve an orange-and-black mystery

Monarch Butterfly 2013 Migration Smallest on Record | Environment News Service

Great article on Monarch butterflies...new research identifies three conditions operating in Mexico, the United States and Canada that threaten monarch populations: destruction of monarch habitat, loss of milkweed (their primary food source) due to glyphosate herbicides, and trends toward extreme climate conditions that make the entire life cycle more difficult for Monarchs to complete successfully. Read more at the link below.

MEXICO CITY, Mexico, January 31, 2014 (ENS) – Monarch butterflies are vanishing from the Monarch Reserve in Mexico’s temperate forest where they spend November through March hibernating after migrating more than 2,500 miles from Canada and the United States.

Read more at ens-newswire.com

Related articles

Monarch Butterfly Migration Patterns Under Threat

U Of M Expert Makes Plea For Monarch Butterflies

Think about Monarch Butterflies when you watch the Super Bowl this weekend.