Lystichon americanus- the skunk cabbage
By Jess Carey
Long ago, before there were salmon, the people of the Pacific Northwest coast had only leaves and roots to eat. Finally, the first salmon swam up the river to spawn. Fighting her way through the rapids, she heard a voice call out.
“Finally, my relatives full of eggs have arrived to feed the people!”
Salmon was happy to be welcomed with gratitude.
“Who is it that calls?” Salmon asked.
“It is your uncle, the skunk cabbage,” the response echoed through the canyon.
The salmon climbed ashore to meet her uncle. As a reward for generously providing for the people, skunk cabbage received a club and an elk skin coat, and was given the nutrient-rich lowlands near the water. This legend traces back to the Kathlamet and Clackamas peoples, and was adapted here from Pojar and MacKinnon’s Plants of the Pacific Northwest. The story explains skunk cabbage’s strange appearance and affinity for swamps.
The leaves and roots of skunk cabbage — when boiled — are edible. Uncooked, they burn the mouth and skin, due to high concentrations of needle-like calcium oxalate crystals. Its waxy leaves are also used for food storage and cups. The whole plant exudes a distinctive musty odor that lends it its name. Leaves and sheathed club-like flowers emerge from dormant roots called rhizomes every spring. While the plant sheds its flowers and leaves in the winter, its rhizome can live some 20 years, safely protected from winter frost in the cozy soil. Skunk cabbage’s strange and vaguely phallic flowers are the characteristic blooms of the Araceae family. Similar flowers are seen in the common landscaping plant, calla lily.
Jess Carey is a senior at Cal Poly Humboldt, majoring in biology and double minoring in botany and journalism, and the science editor for The Lumberjack. They are passionate about telling stories that are relevant to the community, branching their interests in science, music, and the arts.
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