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Essay written by Carmen Wise, Photos by Mike Wise.
The visit to the Refugio turned out to be an all day journey. First, we traveled from Morelia to the refuge by van over three hours, following a windy road that crawled up to about 10,000 feet above sea level. We then transferred onto horses for the two miles to the Refuge. Lastly we had to hike ¼ mile or so down a steep incline to the bottom of the canyon where the butterflies had settled. The altitude in combination with my already weakened state completely depleted me. My husband Mike asked our guide to go back up and bring a horse down to take me back up the trail and to the car.
I sat on a stone, careful to avoid the butterflies fluttering at my feet. I felt utterly dejected. I felt I was spoiling Mike's excitement at being in this wondrous place, that were it not for me we would be staying there for hours. I just wanted to lie back and die. I then noticed a large and magnificent butterfly creeping along the ground toward me. I saw that one of its wings was torn and thus it could not fly. The Monarch slowly made its way to my hand and crawled up my arm. Its wings opened and shut each time it rested as if it were testing its ability to fly.
God gave me this little poem as the butterfly rested in my hair:
Flying Flowers |
We visited this refuge for Monarch butterflies in March of 2001. Throughout our trip through Mexico I was very ill with an intestinal ailment I had developed weeks earlier on a visit to California.
When the guide left, Mike and I were left alone in the canyon. Thousands upon thousands of butterflies thickened every branch in the forest. Delicate fragile wings, flitting thousands at a time made a barely audible swishing sound. The floor, too, was carpeted in orange. We paused to listen, to watch, to wonder.
It moved and walked softly over my face then rested like a finely wrought ornament on my hair. Mike saw this and the result is this photo as well as others on this page.