Skunk Cabbage | J. G. Coleman's Field Journals

Eastern Skunk Cabbage

Binomial Name
Symplocarpus foetidus

Other Common Names
Swamp Cabbage, Skunkweed

It's a frigid January morning in Connecticut and the Sun has yet to rise over the hills of Giuffrida Park. Winter has plunged New England into a deep-freeze, and I've hauled my camera and gear through oppressive temperatures to crouch upon a frozen swamp in a few inches of snow. I'm after the Eastern Skunk Cabbage, which possesses a remarkable adaptation that can only be fully appreciated under brutal circumstances such as these. For while I am buried beneath several layers of clothes, trying to conserve what precious little body heat I produce, the extraordinary Skunk Cabbage radiates enough warmth to melt a comfortable niche for itself in this frozen wasteland.

Eastern Skunk Cabbage, or Symplocarpus foetidus, is capable of producing its own 'body heat', sometimes in excess of 30°F warmer than the surrounding air; truly a rare feat in the world of plants. In the icy lands of the Northeast, almost every other plant and tree remains dormant and seemingly lifeless during winter, refusing to stir until Spring arrives with elevated temperatures and nourishing rains. Even evergreen plants, such as Christmas Ferns (Polystichum acrostichoides), merely keep a lively complexion in such harsh conditions; they don't grow.

Despite frigid January temperatures, this Eastern Skunk Cabbage has warmed itself enough to melt a pocket in the surrounding snow.

The ability of an organism to produce its own body heat is known as thermogenesis, and although this trait is rare amongst plants, it is rather common in the world of animals. Warm-blooded creatures such as mammals and birds use thermogenesis, amongst other processes, to regulate their own body temperature independent of their environment. Reptiles and amphibians, on the other hand, are cold-blooded and must absorb heat from their environment. The vast majority of plants share a similar burden with these cold-blooded creatures, perpetually at the mercy of Mother Nature.

But producing body heat, despite its advantages, also demands a costly expenditure of energy, especially for organisms such as plants that cannot actively forage to restore their lost reserves. For the Eastern Skunk Cabbage, though, the extra effort pays off. While most plants are still snoozing away the winter, industrious skunk cabbages are preparing to get the first crack at pollinating insects. Such an early start ensures that it will be one of the only plants in bloom and nearly eliminates the burden of competing for pollination that its later-blooming relatives must endure.

Perhaps the most familiar characteristic of the Eastern Skunk Cabbage, however, is the pungent stench that it produces. Anyone who has gotten a whiff of these plants in bloom will probably describe the smell as being akin to that of a rotting carcass. For the skunk cabbage, however, that's the sign of job well done. Flies pollinate this swamp-dweller, not bees or butterflies. By smelling like a dead animal, the Eastern Skunk Cabbage becomes a highly desirable target for flies, further ensuring that it will be pollinated and successfully reproduce.

For those that have grown up around these plants, avoiding them for their repulsive odor and certainly not examining them during the dead of winter, the Eastern Skunk Cabbage is little more than an uninteresting swamp weed. Indeed, they receive few accolades for being one of the most specialized and cleverly-adapted plants in their range. That's alright, though, for as long as the flies keep visiting each year, as they surely will, the Eastern Skunk Cabbage can enjoy a long and successful reign in the wilds of the North.

Photography | Specimens shown were observed and photographed in mid January at Giuffrida Park in Meriden, CT.