We nearly lost the western king of the insect world four years ago following a reign lasting more than 1 million years.

2020. That was the year biologists feared the western North American monarch butterfly would go extinct, Julie K. Combs, pollinator species lead for the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, told me in mid September. 

To be clear, the monarch butterfly species (Danaus plexippus) is not in immediate danger. It exists in numerous countries. And large migratory populations of monarch butterflies are found east of the Rockies. They’re known as eastern North American monarch butterflies, and they wing it back and forth between Mexico and many U.S. states. 

But the monarch butterflies we’ve known in California, Oregon and Washington that once numbered in the millions dwindled to a mere 2,000 individuals in 2020, Combs said. That’s the number of western monarchs estimated to have spent the winter of 2020-21 roosting in eucalyptus trees along California’s coast.

By comparison, 1.2 million monarch butterflies hibernated in the same location in 1996-97. Due to unknown factors, the number of western monarchs soared from the brink of extinction in 2020 to about 200,000 one year later. The population held steady at an estimated 200,000 individuals during the overwinter counts of 2022 and 2023.

Having seen monarch butterflies on an annual basis while living in California for most of my life, it came as a shock to learn from Combs that the migrants I’d come to take for granted nearly vanished four years ago.

What’s more, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service recently stated that the chance of the western and eastern North American monarch populations “persisting above the extinction threshold over the next 10 years is 27% to 33% (under future conditions) and drops under 10% within 30 years.” 

I’m aware that more than 45,300 species globally are threatened with extinction. Still, hearing Combs say that the number of western monarchs had been reduced to 2,000, I couldn’t help but focus on the smallness of that number. A 1-gallon can holds 2,500 peanuts, give or take. A 10-pound box of drywall screws contains more than 2,000 parts. Nearly 3,000 dimes fit in a standard-size mason jar.

It’s hard for me to fathom life without our monarchs. With conspicuously large wings adorned with brilliant orange streaks, black veins and white-spotted black border, monarch butterflies, or simply “monarchs” to entomologists, are perhaps the most famous of North America’s many butterfly species. And it’s been that way for centuries if not longer.

Native Americans were the first to illustrate the butterfly, which they believed brought good health. Lepidopterist Fred Urquhart, in his book “The Monarch Butterfly: International Traveler,” stated that the early settlers of Colonial America named the flying insect in honor of William III, a Prince of Orange who became king of England.

At times the migratory monarchs would pass through areas like waves upon waves of autumn leaves propelled by gusts. Less than three decades ago, during the winter of 1996-97, the eastern monarch populations totaled 673 million butterflies, according to Cheryl Schultz, a professor at Washington State University who is an expert in the field of at-risk butterflies.

That’s 673,000,000 monarchs, or twice the number of people living in the United States today. 

Loss of habitat due to genetically modified crops, overuse of pesticides, urban development, climate change and degradation of overwintering sites have reduced the number of eastern monarchs by more than 95% since 1996-97 to an estimated 77 million individuals today, Schultz told me.

The Xerces Society and other groups are working with farmers, ranchers, park managers and others across the eastern United States to plant milkweed and nectar plants needed for the eastern monarchs’ survival. 

It’s a Herculean feat. A census conducted by the World Wildlife Fund earlier this year found that the presence of eastern monarchs in their roosting trees last winter had dropped by more than half, from 5.4 acres to 2.2 acres.

“This makes 2023-24 the second worst year ever recorded,” the WWF said in a statement. The survey measures the area of forest in which monarch butterflies hibernate each winter, providing a reliable indicator of the eastern monarchs’ population status.

Monarch experts at the Xerces Society noted that while the yearly up-and-downs of the butterflies’ population garners a lot of attention, the real issue is the longer-term population decline due to habitat loss, pesticides and climate change.

Specifically, monarchs require secure patches of milkweed and nectar resources during breeding, roosting sites and safe travel corridors for migration. Milkweeds occur in weedy fields and sparsely vegetated habitats, typically near wetlands or riparian areas. 

Rising temperatures and loss of moisture threaten those areas as they do the eucalyptus trees in California that the western monarchs rely on for overwintering, Combs said.

What can we do to help them? The WDFW and the Xerces Society need the public’s assistance identifying the locations of the western monarchs. Simply put, “If we don’t know where they are we can’t protect them,” Combs said.

She asked that anyone living in or visiting Washington state east of the Cascades (monarchs aren’t found on the Olympic Peninsula) keep their eyes peeled for monarchs and, if spotted, take photos of them. They should then Google “monarch milkweed mapper” and follow the reporting instructions that appear on the web page.

Scott Doggett is a former staff writer for the Outdoors section of the Los Angeles Times. He and his wife, Susan Englen, live in Port Townsend.