When the Butterflies Don't Fly ...

I confess — I’m not a big fan of insects in general. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy seeing colorful butterflies fluttering around the park while jogging. I’ve followed beetles carrying food across my front yard. I’ve admired bees hard at work on a friend’s farm — especially when their labor ends in a taste of freshly harvested honey. But I’ve never really studied how insects live, adapt, or thrive. To me, they’ve always been part of the backdrop.

This past few weeks, however, were different.

For the first time, I had a close-up view of an insect’s life cycle. My little boy was gifted a batch of painted lady butterfly caterpillars for his birthday — a perfect match for his favorite book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Naturally, as a scientist by training (and a mom), I saw it as a chance to teach him how to observe the world around him and take note of his observations.

So, we set up a routine. After coming back from daycare, we’d check on the container where the caterpillars were fed and grew. When they turned into chrysalises, we carefully moved them into a bigger cage and waited. Each day, my son would create “rain” — sometimes even a full-on thunderstorm — by misting the cage (or shaking it excitedly). He checked whether they had “pooed’ by spotting pink dots on the paper towels we’d placed at the bottom. Most importantly, he checked whether any had turned into butterflies.

After about a week, one finally emerged, its “skin” shredded open. My son couldn’t believe that the little greyish bean-like thing had become a creature with wings, legs, and antennae. He squatted and stared at it for a long time. Then, suddenly, he poked the spot where the butterfly was clinging. It quickly walked to another part of the cage — it still couldn’t fly. “Mom, it’s really alive!” he exclaimed.

Over the next few days, more butterflies emerged. He danced around the cage, blessing them with rain and preparing sugar water to feed them. Some began to flutter a little, while the younger ones remained still — perhaps overwhelmed by the “natural disasters” caused by their eager caretaker.

Eventually, we decided it was time. We took the cage outside and opened the door.

But the butterflies didn’t fly out.

Some stayed perfectly still. Others walked around, but only one flew out on its own. The rest we gently moved onto nearby flowers and leaves. That’s when we noticed that several had deformed or incompletely developed wings. We realized that even for insects, it’s not easy to grow into adulthood. Life is fragile. Even in a protected enclosure, survival isn’t guaranteed.

The moment when my son let free the butterflies (May 2025).

That’s why a recent article from The Guardian struck me so deeply: “‘Half the Tree of Life’: Ecologists’ Horror as Nature Reserves Are Emptied of Insects”. At first, I thought — could this really be true? But as I dug into the details and the data, I found not only is it possible — the researchers may have been conservative in their estimates.

Because of their size, insects are often overlooked. But they form the foundation of ecosystems. They feed birds, disperse seeds, pollinate plants. I remembered reading about bee population declines from pesticide use and how that could threaten food supplies. But the problem we’re facing now is even broader.

Insects are incredibly sensitive to environmental changes. Pesticides, fertilizers, and chemical or light pollution all have an effect. But what’s different now is that population collapse isn’t just happening in human-disturbed areas — it’s being observed in pristine, untouched forests as well.

So what’s going on?

CLIMATE CHANGE!

Scientists identify five main drivers of biodiversity loss: climate change, invasive species, land and sea use changes, pollution, and overexploitation. For the first time, climate change has overtaken the others as the leading threat to endangered species in the U.S. Insects depend on precise environmental cues — temperature, humidity, rainfall patterns, the length of seasons. These conditions guide when they hibernate, emerge, breed. Even slight disruptions can throw their entire life cycle off balance. Over the past few decades, all of these factors have shifted dramatically. As insects decline, so do the species that rely on them — birds, reptiles, amphibians. The ecosystem begins to fray.

How do we respond?

Nature-based solutions (NbS) are gaining traction as a way to mitigate climate change. Restoring wetlands, planting native species, and rewilding landscapes can help draw down carbon. But can they also help insects?

That question brings me back to that quiet moment with my son — standing in our yard, the cage open, butterflies hesitant to fly. Watching him follow their transformation, from squirming caterpillars to delicate, trembling flyers, reminded me that life is wondrous — and incredibly fragile. When even in a sheltered space, some butterflies cannot fully develop their wings, we must ask: what chance do they have out there, in a world increasingly shaped by heat, floods, and disruption?

The truth is, the collapse of insect populations is not just about bugs. It’s about unraveling systems — food webs, pollination cycles, and the silent architecture of biodiversity. And climate change, though often invisible in daily life, is now touching even the smallest, most hidden parts of our world.

But there is still hope. If designed with care, nature-based solutions can do more than pulling carbon from the air. They can offer shelter. They can restore balance. They can provide the quiet stability needed for wings to strengthen — for life to take flight again.

Maybe resilience starts here. With a child’s wonder. With a butterfly that finally chooses to fly.

[First published in Substack "Ginci Insights" on June 4, 2025: https://gincinno.substack.com/p/when-the-butterflies-dont-fly?r=2cxt8s]