The First Wildflower of Spring is Here!
While spring is officially still more than a month away, one of Wild Philly’s first signs of spring has happily appeared. It’s the very first wildflower of spring, not one you might expect, and it’s in full blossom now.
Welcome back, skunk cabbage!
On a weekend walk at Gladwyne’s Saunders Woods-- a site at which I’ve been admiring skunk cabbage for decades-- the small mottled purple hoods were easy to spot in the wetlands area near the Natural Lands preserve’s springhouse. Actually, while most were the typical purple color, some were neon green, weirdly and wonderfully bright.
Named for its large stinky leaves (which appear later in the spring), skunk cabbage is one of my favorite spring wildflowers, as it is the first to bloom, surprisingly early in the year, as early as, well, now. Growing in marshy places where its feet are wet, skunk cabbage’s hood is able to generate its own heat and burn through any ice or snow. Peek into the hood, and you’ll see a yellowish knobby orb that looks like either the Sputnik satellite or a coronavirus-- take your pick. It’s those funny knobs that are the flowers.
The hoods reek (its specific name, foetidus, reminds you of this), giving off a smell akin to rotting flesh, which attracts its pollinators, the flies and gnats that scavenge on rotting flesh. They crawl into the hood looking for dead meat, accidentally pollinating the flower. The smell explains the purple mottling of its hood, surprisingly common among plants that imitate dead flesh.
And one of its pollinators is a blowfly with the wonderful species name of vomitoria. Need we say more?
The plant’s thermogenic properties accomplish multiple functions: it not only melts the ice, but also helps disseminate the smell. And pollinators are likely to come into the hood seeking the warmth that it generates, as the temperature inside the hood could be as much as 60° warmer than the outside air. As I peeked into one hood, I could see insects flying in and out-- the strategy was working.
After blooming, its green leaves come up as well, some almost two feet long; they smell strongly as well, with their cabbage-like appearance lending the plant its name. The pungent leaves likely discourage herbivores from nibbling on it.
As if all this were not cool enough, the plant’s stems remain buried below the surface, contracting as they grow, effectively pulling the stem deeper into the mud. In effect, it is an upside-down plant, the stem growing downward. As the plant grows, the stem burrows deeper, making older plants practically impossible to dig up.
For me, spring is a parade of events that unfold along a once-predictable timeline, and skunk cabbage leads the parade. Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring this year, and he seems to be right-- this reads to me as a little bit early in February for the hoods (climate change, perhaps?). Still, with skunk cabbage up, other spring wildflowers like trillium and trout lily can’t be far behind.
Make sure to check out skunk cabbage, blossoming now in a wetland near you.