Firstly we learnt about monarch butterflies and their migration and wrote about them informatively. Then we switched to writing a narrative following the story of one butterfly on their migration. This is my story of my butterfly Monarch.
The beating of wings fills the air as the sun dawns and shines its rays on a secret world of delicate orange monarch butterflies. The morning air is crisp and a chilly wind seeps through the canopy. Monarch feels the breeze and shudders. She knows that summer is coming to an end in her beautiful North American woods, but Monarch clings to the slowly disappearing remnants of summer. Fluttering along, she follows her family, dipping and diving, feasting and flying, until her worries are no more.
A few weeks later, summer has come and gone and Monarch's home has turned into a state of confusion. Only one week ago, the leaves of the trees that had once looked like a burning fire, dropped off their places and temperatures had dropped alarmingly fast. Monarch was quiet, a rare event. She was worried. She had to migrate. If she didn't, she would freeze. But Monarch didn't want to leave. She had tried complaining to her mother, to her father. In the end, she just huddled in a corner. She then jolted up. The other monarchs around her went stiff and still. Monarch knew. Somewhere, deep in her blood, she knew it was time to leave. Monarch readied herself and beated her wings, up, up, and up, joining the others in the sky, ready to go.
Monarch and her friends and family have left it too late. They have to fly harder and faster. Days turn into weeks, and weeks will eventually become months. Monarch is tired. She longs for the lazy summer days and plentiful food sources she once enjoyed. The sky looks full of orange glitter, no other colours in sight. Suddenly, it scatters. Monarch squints ahead, her tired wings flapping faster. She spies an oriole up ahead. Full to the brim of adrenaline, Monarch breaks away and others follow her. She dives down to a flowering bush, and there they wait for hours, an orange blanket on a shrub. In the late evening, the monarchs are ready to leave, but Monarch insists that she has a meal. Then they head into a fast air current, heading for warmth.
Monarch is exhausted. Her wings are slowing and her body is aching. Then the clan starts to lower towards a large forest. Monarch ponders about what this means. Are they there?
She jumps with excitement. She can see food. Monarchs wings best faster and her mouth salivates. She lands delicately on a flower and practically inhales it. Her body is rejuvenated. Happy and content, she lowers herself onto a branch of an oyamel fir tree, and for the first time in 2 months, Monarch is asleep.
Monarch slowly opens her eyes. She looks around and she is surrounded by friends and family. She is hungry but she waits for the others. It doesn't take long. They rise. Monarch eats. She wonders how long it has been. She doesn't know, but she does know she has to go again. But first, she takes some time to eat, to play, to explore, and for a few hours, she forgets all about migration and winter and traveling. For a few hours, she is free. But all good things must come to an end, and Monarch glances one last time at the thick, lush forest. Her eyes water, her wings sag and her body droops. She wants to curl up into a little ball and sob. But she follows her friends and family, ready to take the journey again.
THE END
