XXXVII 



SKUNK CABBAGE 







THE bees are not the only flower-lovers who 

 have discovered the skunk cabbage and delight to 

 pay it respectful visits long before other flowers 

 are awake. Every year I make a pilgrimage to the 

 nearest colony. Even in January I have broken the 

 ice around the hoods and counted dozens of them. 

 They do not mind the weather. Ice-cold baths 

 seem to weaken neither the constitution nor the 

 odor of this lusty bog plant. I well remember 

 the first time I heard a bee buzzing inside the 

 hood of a skunk cabbage flower. Do you know 

 that sound ? Then you have something yet to live 

 for. It is worth a long hunt and a cold wait. 



Prowling along the underbrush on a slope above 

 Cold Spring one day in early February, I became 

 aware that some one else was crunching about in 

 the snow which covered my favorite "cabbage 

 patch." The person, dressed like myself in short 

 skirt and heavy boots, was intent on some odd 

 business. I could only make out that she was 

 bending down and thrusting her hand into the 

 snow. I went nearer, emboldened by natural 

 curiosity, and discovered that she held in her 

 hand some small instrument which gleamed in the 

 sunlight. My "interest in her strange behavior" 

 was not to be conquered, so I accosted her, in 



(208) 



