Field Notes: When the Monarchs Returned

It was the first time I’d been back to this monarch sanctuary in three years.

Not by choice. There simply hadn’t been enough monarch butterflies to occupy this stand of oyamel fir in the reserve.

The 2025-2026 season brought the highest monarch counts in over a decade. People ask me all the time if I can feel the monarch decline everyone talks about. And my answer has always been no. When you’re standing in a monarch colony, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of monarch butterflies, it’s hard to imagine there are fewer than before.

But this time, it felt different. We were standing in a place that had been empty since early 2023, now alive again with monarchs. A good year for monarchs, and yes, it was noticeable.

The weather that week added another layer. It was cold, wet, and heavy clouds never seemed to fully clear.

When monarchs are in their clusters, they’re in torpor, conserving energy so they can survive for several months while in Mexico.

I’ve seen monarch clusters countless times. That wasn’t new. But this was.

We could see monarch butterflies layered over one another, wings closed, completely still with water droplets on their wings. Beads clinging to orange and black, catching what little light filtered through. The entire forest felt quiet, suspended somewhere between rest and movement.

Then, a break in the clouds. Just enough sun to reach the outermost individuals in the clusters.

You could see it happening in real time. A subtle tremble at first. Then another. Monarch wings slowly opened, one by one, as they began to warm.

It’s hard to explain how special it feels to see, to really connect with something so beautiful in nature. No matter how many times I come back, there’s always something new. And it’s those unexpected moments that keep pulling me back into the field time and time again.