And as of today, the most interesting and alarming question anyone in the field has yet considered, I think. Taxonomy, evolution of migratory behavior, the effect of parasitic tachinid flies, the energetics of flight.
He finished chewing a mouthful before he spoke. “So,” Dellarobia asked, “what kinds of things would you study, on a monarch?”
He was helping himself to seconds on the casserole. Ovid Byron did not seem insulted by any of it. Only Cordie remained aloof, putting the finishing touches on her composition, getting her hair into play. Preston, on the other hand, appeared keen to crawl into the man’s lap, and Cub wasn’t far behind him. Minus the good excuse of actually being one. She was in the same camp with her blithe, cheese-covered daughter here, acting like a toddler with food on her face. Like blabbing wiki-facts to the person who probably discovered them in the first place. So there were worse things than feeding meat loaf to a vegetarian. “A couple of books,” she said to this man, recalling his look when she’d informed him, They’re called monarchs. “A dissertation, articles, a couple of books. Had he counted them all? “So, you do what, experiments, or observations? And write up what you find out?” I spent the day doing a quick census up there.” “You came here because you’re one of the people who study these monarchs,” she said.
Dellarobia felt as if she’d received a blow to the head. Cub himself was an accessory to this voyage his small place in the world had appeared on the map of the learned man. “I’ve not been on an airplane, nor my wife either one,” Cub said, with unbridled awe. It’s a long ride in a small seat, I can tell you that, my friend.” “Sheez! That’s what, two thousand miles? How long a drive is that?” “You came all the way here from New Mexico?” Cub asked. I did my graduate studies at Harvard, and that”-he gave Preston a knowing look-“is a very cold place.”
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