A dozen Maine Audubon nature lovers left Bangor last week, carpooling in a caravan for the Midcoast. Their goal was to observe the migration of monarch butterflies from the same spot that writer and ecologist Rachel Carson wrote about them.

It seemed like a long drive, especially for the three children who went along. Finally, we arrived at our destination, all four cars – miraculously – still together. We were at the Newagen Inn, with owner permission for our expedition. The minute we got out of the cars, monarchs were flying by.

The children were given an important task – to count all the monarchs we saw, not missing or double-counting any. They took the task seriously, finding three in the parking lot. They found a few more on our way to the special observation spot. By the end of our stay, the children had spotted 57 monarchs.

We traversed a lawn and went past a patch of goldenrod. Monarchs were perched on the flowers. They were quite flighty and the photographers among us had a hard time getting good pictures. Eventually patience paid off.

Monarchs kept flying overhead. We hiked down a rocky and rooty trail to the shore. It was hard to look up for butterflies and look down at a rocky, steep trail with many obstacles. Undoubtedly we missed a few butterflies then.

At last we arrived at the spot we were seeking – a rock with a plaque, quoting a letter from Rachel Carson: “Most of all I shall remember the monarchs.” An English teacher among us read the letter beautifully.

Children and adults alike listened with rapt attention. They knew the letter was written in the last year of Rachel Carson’s life, and the natural cycle of the butterflies had moved her greatly. These butterflies would not return to Maine, nor would she.

We were moved by the sight of the butterflies heading southwest out over the bay toward the unknown. They had hatched as caterpillars from tiny eggs attached to milkweed in Maine or Canada, and now they were headed to a site in Mexico. The survivors of this dangerous journey would spend December, January and February in Mexico. Then they would fly north to Texas, mate and lay eggs, and die. But their young and grandchildren would live an accelerated life of egg, caterpillar, butterfly – several generations would spread north to Maine, the Midwest and Canada. And then, next September, we’ll hope to see monarchs migrate again.

It is a fragile hope. Maine butterfly expert Gail Everett sums it up: “It’s thrilling to have so many of these beauties around. They are benefiting from an unusual combination of near-perfect conditions throughout their entire life cycle this year. Environmental conditions are the basis for species health – as well as reason to hope that even when the situation looks terrible [the precipitous decline of monarchs over the last 10 years], the right conditions can make a huge difference.”