By Robert D. Woodward

DES MOINES, Iowa, Sept.15, 1991--The Iowa skies are alive these days with migrating monarch butterflies. Our natural heritage is passing before our eyes.

The monarchs are dipping into backyard gardens; into alfalfa fields; into stands of wildflowers and milkweeds; into oaks and maples across the state. They are floating across the countryside and interstate highways; they are soaring and speeding so high you cannot see them without binoculars.

The monarchs are on an incredible journey of perhaps as much as 2,000 miles to a location in Mexico, where they will spend the winter. Millions of them will successfully complete the long trip; many others will not. Come spring, many of the monarchs will come north again to fill our spring, summer and fall with their flashing colors of orange and black.

Theirs is a migration of time immemorial. If we are looking for an assurance of continuity in life, we can step out our back door and watch the monarchs on the wind of an autumn day.

So much is the monarch butterfly woven into the fabric of our lives in Iowa--both consciously and subconsciously--we should honor its heritage, our heritage by naming it the state insect.

Iowa has no state insect, although there was a groundswell of support for the ladybug a few years back. The honeybee is the most popular choice among those states that have state insects; the ladybug is popular, too.

For Iowa, the monarch would be a wonderful symbol of our heritage; it's inextricably linked with our open skies and the natural beauty of the state--and with our growing up on the land.

In my mind's eye, I can still see my earlier days of growing up in western Iowa in the 1940s and 1950s--in Rodney in Monona County. I can see the monarchs on the wind; I can recall a thousand flashing wings. I've even written a song about our relationship to nature that includes the lines: "I must be the child of a monarch butterfly, soaring forever off in time."

The monarchs were here on earth long before any of us, before any of our ancestors, and we can only hope they will be here long after we are gone--a heritage for our children's children and beyond.

In the most definitive book on monarchs, Dr. Fred A. Urquhart of the University of Toronto describes in detail his lifetime of study of "The Monarch Butterfly: International Traveler." He attributes the name "monarch" to early North American settlers who named the "magnificent butterfly" after King William, prince of Orange and later king of England.

East of the Rocky Mountains, the monarchs in Canada and the United States have begun their annual migratory trek to central Mexico. West of the Rockies, the monarchs head for wintering sites in California, particularly around the community of Pacific Grove.

As the monarchs pass through Iowa these days from the north, they can be spotted at roosting sites and way stations throughout the state. Iowans may see thousands in a single locale at the end of a September day, but the next morning, the monarchs will be on the move again. Imagine the descriptions that come from Mexico from those who have traveled to the mountains there to see their wintering sites.

Describing the scene back in 1988 in the Philadelphia Inquirer, reporter Fawn Vrazo wrote: "Millions and millions of them...nearly the entire migrating population of all the monarch butterflies of North America, and we were in their midst! The sight alone was amazing, but also there was that remarkable noise. When millions of butterfly wings flap together at the same time, it sounds just like the patter of a gentle rain."

Closer to home, in our yard in Altoona east of Des Moines, we have gradually created a butterfly garden to attract not only monarchs but other species of butterflies. In recent autumns, it's been common to see several hundred monarchs at a time swirling around the hackberry, oak and apple trees--and then roosting there overnight.

We have planted extensive clumps of tall New England asters--especially purple ones--to attract the monarchs. And we grow something else that's important if you want to observe the summer birth of monarchs close to home--milkweeds. The common milkweed, a farmer's enemy, is the monarch's friend--the host plant for the black, white and yellow caterpillars that ultimately develop into beautiful monarchs. In Iowa, the marginal areas of the prairie lands and river beds where milkweeds grow provide an excellent habitat for the monarchs throughout the spring, summer and fall.

To preserve the monarchs in Iowa, we will always need milkweeds. In his book, Dr. Urquhart writes: "The milkweed plant controls the distribution of monarch butterfly populations and regulates their density in any given area. And it is the milkweed plant that is primarily responsible for the amazing long-distance migrations..."

In his research, Urquhart documented, too, how the monarch migration is directly influenced by the atmospheric pressure and weather conditions. I can verify this with several examples from my longtime observations of monarchs in Iowa. One autumn Sunday in the late 1970s, the sky literally seemed to be exploding with thousands of fast-moving monarchs as the weather conditions changed dramatically. In the eastern Iowa, tornado conditions had been reported, and in central Iowa the low-lying clouds provided an excellent backdrop for the sight I'll never forget--a scene that continued for several hours and one that I've never seen repeated.

Another autumn, as a sharp cold front came through central Iowa, I used my binoculars for several days to track thousands of high-flying monarchs. They were there in the Iowa skies but could not be seen with the naked eye.

Monarchs are our heritage. Many Iowa schoolchildren have seen them in the classroom over the years, watching them develop from an infinitesimal caterpillar to a thing of beauty. Other Iowans have participated in tagging programs (under the aegis of Urquhart) to track the butterflies' patterns of movement. Like me, I suspect, many Iowans have a favorite photograph of monarchs. Our Iowa ancestors and the Native Americans before us saw the wonder of the monarchs and fall migrations, too, in times long ago.

The monarchs help epitomize our relationship to the land and to nature in Iowa. They help assure us that tomorrows will always come, if not always for us, then for others in the future who will enjoy their natural beauty. It's in this spirit that I'd like to see the monarch named the state insect of Iowa, so we could forever implant this natural heritage in the state's consciousness and in its history.

(Editor's note: Robert D. Woodward, a native Iowan, is Ellis and Nelle Levitt Distinguished Professor of Journalism at Drake University. His father was an Iowa farmer, and his mother was a schoolteacher. For as long as he can remember, he's been fascinated by monarch butterflies and what they can teach us about life on Earth.)