Skunked

When I bought the hiking shoes a few months ago, the nice saleslady asked me if I wanted the correct treatment for the leather.

“Lady,” I said as politely as possible. “These shoes will be destroyed. A 5-gallon bucket of the best shoe treatment isn’t going to save them.”

So the other day when I noted a garden of skunk cabbage growing in a swamp, I walked right in.

The destruction of the new shoes had begun in earnest. You can’t photograph skunk cabbage by standing on the edge of the water.

Lysichiton americanus is a native of Montana. It lives in shallow swamps locally. An eastern variety is purple.

The skunk cabbage, as its name implies, has a skunky smell, which persumably helps draw pollinators. Keep in mind, not all pollinators are bees, so something that smells a bit foul might be attractive to other insects.

“Lysichiton americanus is pollinated by scavenging flies and beetles which it attracts with its pungent odor,” according to Forest Service literature.

While the plant isn’t considered endangered, the habitat where it thrives — shallow swamps and streams — is considered imperiled.

Bears will eat the earliest flowers. In this particular swamp, they seemed to be nipping off the newest shoots. Anything that had reached the bloom stage was left alone. The roots, however, are eaten by bears, elk, muskrats, and other animals. The plant is edible, but most accounts call for cooking or roasting the roots first, as they reportedly have a medicinal quality, according to Native American stories published by the University of Oregon.

Most of Montana doesn’t have skunk cabbage. According to range maps, it’s only prevalent in Northwest Montana.

The plant lives in reverse of most plants — it flowers first and then sprouts leaves, which can reach heights of three feet.