Something nasty by the estuary

It has to be said that, if you're not expecting it, encountering this plant in a quiet spot by the river can come as quite a shock. It pongs! And it pushes up from the ground in early spring as a lurid yellow spathe or sheath from which pokes a hulking great spadix (the flower-spike), only later surrounded by these big waxy green leaves.

It's a foreigner but is quite happy to grow in Britain wherever there are boggy areas around ponds and streams. This is Skunk Cabbage or Lysichiton americanus, a member of the Arum family, native of the Pacific Northwest of America right up to Alaska. Its name refers to its foetid odour which clings (just as does the stink of skunk) and serves to attract flies and beetles to pollinate. Another unusual feature of the plant is that it generates its own heat. This allows it to break through the surface of the frozen ground and also encourages the insects to shelter within the spathe. All in all, one could paraphrase the old tag applied to American servicemen in World War Two: 'overheated, over-sexed and over here'.

Over there however, Skunk Cabbage has been put to a variety of uses by the natives of the northwest coast. The leaves were used as a early version of kitchen foil, to wrap food for cooking or to line baskets, the roots could be eaten in times of famine (but needed to be boiled 8 times to get rid of toxins), it provided medication for burns, arthritis and other ailments, and the spadices were used by children in throwing contests! Bears are said to consume it as a post-hibernation tonic.

The reason why we occasionally see it in the wild is that, having been introduced by the Victorians as an ornamental plant, its roots regenerate when dumped as garden waste in suitably swampy areas. The occasional free-range specimen is interesting, larger numbers of these aliens can be invasive and edge out native plants.