This is a monarch, dying in my hands. Or dead, already.
Sean called me from Mexico: can I fly down in 2 days to film the Monarch butterfly for a show about genetics for the Discovery Channel? Travelocity finds me a cheap last-minute deal and 48 hours later I am in Cuernavaca and then on the road to the monarch winter grounds four hours north of Mexico City, in the freezing dawn. Not a damn butterfly in sight. I'm in the North Face gear, wrapped for the icebox, and thinking maybe there is a wild goose somewhere, when all of a sudden matching the Sun's slow rise there are wings stretching and flitting. Seemed like we couldn't take a step without crushing one of these beautiful creatures. I tip-toed from shot to shot, marveling at the thousands (millions?) of orange, black and white butterflies around me. They are quickly disappearing due to habitat loss, and there is no phenomenon in nature quite like them -- how do they map their routes from North America to Mexico every year? There is no DNA code explaining their knowledge of latitude and longitude. How do they freaking know?
(click Mexico above to see article sent to me by my pal dancegypsy.)
Pix are stolen from BadTV partner Blue's new webbie.
