When my eight year old son asked me, “Where do the butterflies go in the winter?” little did I realise that this was to take me on a journey which, so far has taken me 22 years. The journey continues to lead me down wonderful pathways, and introduce me to some of the world’s most wonderful people.

Yes, he was eight, and I was a young mum with two small boys, and a belief that we should encourage their curiosity, help them explore and find out answers for themselves. So with my assistance he wrote a letter to our country’s largest newspapers.

We live in New Zealand, that’s a country down at the bottom of the world, about the size of Colorado. Not part of, but next to Australia. Fiercely independent. Aha, I heard you whisper “The Lord of the Rings” and “Whale Rider”. That’s us.

Chris’ letters got published. We were suddenly thrust into a different world.

Radio interviews, TV cameras. For a few weeks we were celebrities. For the next few months we answered letters, such wonderful, colourful letters from people all around the country, naming the overwintering habitats of the Monarch butterfly.

And what a learning curve!

We learned that the Monarch butterfly had first been recorded in this country about 150 years ago. It is assumed to have been blown here on a storm. It wasn’t until the Asclepias (milkweed) plants were brought here in the 1900s that the Monarch, originally from North America, began to breed here.

We were sent seeds of a large Milkweed plant and I scattered them around our garden. I have moved several times since then, but always taken some ‘Giant Swan Plant’ seeds with me and have always scattered the seed in my new neighbourhood of residence. The Monarchs are always with me.
We have been introduced to such wonderful, kindly people, always willing to share their knowledge and their gardens with us.

Recently the ‘Wanderer’ (another name for the Monarch) has taken me down a different path. An announcement arrived on my desk (I edit a community newspaper) that Butterfly Bay, to the north of Russell where I live, is about to be developed.

Butterfly Bay was the main overwintering site our investigations had led us to that long while ago. My mother, now dead, Chris and James, his brother, and I had driven to Butterfly Bay and holidayed there to see the Monarch population overwintering – what an awesome sight, to see the thousands of Monarchs in the trees. We clapped our hands and the sky grew grey while we listened to the whirr of butterfly wings.

Butterfly Bay is a magic little cove, only reached on foot, at low tide. It’s like a beach in paradise accessed through a natural stone archway. A horseshoe-shaped stone outcrop protects a tumbling waterfall, pitching buckets of water into a rock pool, before the water spills down over the sand and into the tide.

I have become embroiled in the development debate, absolutely horrified to think that this beautiful place, this site of our natural heritage, has not been protected by a law somewhere, and could become changed forever. Perhaps the trees could be cut down by some careless contractor who needs to move a piece of machinery. If the trees are certain species, over a certain height they are protected – but what is the point of standing there and quoting the law, what should have happened, when the tree has just been felled, the scent of tree sap mixing with chainsaw oil in the air. Where will the butterflies and birds go, when the tree has died? The land been cleared and the harbour is brown with topsoil?

The developers had commissioned a huge report on their project – not once does it mention the butterflies. Sure the name ‘Butterfly Bay’ comes up frequently, but never have the authors, the consultants, the professionals investigated the habitat of the Monarch or how the bay got its name.
If the overwintering site of the Monarch butterfly is enhanced at this place there are benefits for all involved. The proposed development is for tourists. As a tourist I’m sure I’d rather see biodiversity in action at any resort offering rest and relaxation and revitalisation.

A few like-minded friends and I have formed an organisation, the Monarch Butterfly NZ Trust, and we are hopeful that we can encourage a healthy compromise in the plans. We’re speaking up for the butterflies, the birds and the bees. Undoubtedly bluebells and bats, brassicas and bluenose too.
We’re looking for a healthy, win:win result – where everyone sees a positive outcome is possible and buys in to it.

My son is now 30 years old and has a healthy respect for Nature, flora and fauna and people. He is a talented software engineer. Evidence of that is our website, http://monarch.org.nz.

Copyright Jacqui Knight
Copyrighted Photos Gilly Jackson
http://www.monarch.org.nz/

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