The journey begins at a Monarch Mill in Carrollton, Virgina.
The breeder planted milkweed to attract Monarchs.
The Monarchs lay their eggs on the milkweed.
The eggs turn into caterpillars.
The caterpillars eat the milkweed.
The caterpillars enter the chrysalis stage of their life.
In order to "protect" them, the breeder rips them from their natural environment..
He ties a string around their cocoon, attaches it to wire mesh and hangs them in the Monarch Mill.
The breeder sells the chrysallis for cupcakes, cookies, and compliments.
Once rescued, Monty begins a new life on Friday, August 20.
Trapped in a jar. Ripped away from his loved ones. Some new life this is.
The weekend comes and goes. No sign of Monty. On Facebook, pictures and posts show the birth and freedom of his brothers and sisters.
Monday...nothing.
Tuesday...the cocoon turns black! Monty is preparing his escape and entry into the new world!
Daddy takes him to work for "show and tell". Unfortunately, Monty just hangs around all day.
Monty is shy. When everyone leaves, he busts out. Not even daddy saw the birth.
This is stock photo. Not the actual birth. Sorry.
Date of rebirth - August 24, 4:19 p.m., 1.5 inches long, 1 ounce, Hermitage High School.
How do I know he is a boy? Read below.
" The male Monarch Butterfly may be easily distinguished from the female by noting the two highly visable black spots on the insect's hind wings and the thinner black webbing within the wings. The female's webbing is thicker and she has no identifying wing spot as the male does."
We travel back home to let him out in the back yard.
As he is released from his glass and wire mesh prison, I videotape his first steps.
He has difficulty walking and getting his feet on the ground as witnessed in the video. I think we have a special needs butterfly.
Mom soaks a cotton ball in sugar water and "convinces" Monty to walk on it. You may not know but butterflies taste with their feet.
He crawls his way to a plant on the edge of the deck and camps out for the night. No flight yet for our special needs butterfly.
We leave the porch lights off to make sure he doesn't fall prey to some nighttime predator.
I arise in the morning to check on the little fella. He hasn't moved other than adjusting his wings.
I head off to work and tell Monty goodbye.
I come home and this is what I see.
Our little fella has left the nest, er, flown the coop, er, fallen off the bush.
I check on the ground to make sure he really didn't fall. Little Monty has left.
Or was eaten.
Farewell, Monty. It was nice knowing you.
Keep your wings flapping and find a soft, sweet breeze. I'll miss you.
