Saturday I discovered your chrysalis underneath the top of a disintegrating cable spool by the red and green barn. At first I remained uncertain about you. Were you really a monarch?
Then I thought, “This is too late; you won’t survive,”
I checked the weather. There is hope. No freeze until late Thursday night.
By Monday evening your chrysalis had turned a dark green transparency; I could see hints of your wings inside.
When I looked Tuesday after horse feeding, you were out, unmoving, wings folded, your chrysalis a hollow shell.
I checked you twice last evening. Still by your chrysalis, opening and closing your wings.
Becoming really worried, knowing a cold front was coming, I puzzled what to do, keep you inside the barn, leave barn doors open, what?
This morning you had moved to the edge of the spool top. Today’s wind and warmth might inspire you to take your journey south; I could only hope, placed you where you could fly away easily.
When I fed the horses at five today, you were gone.
Relieved, I wish you a safe journey to Michoacan.