The skunk cabbage is a swamp-dwelling harbinger of spring.

Named for its distinctive aroma, the skunk cabbage can produce knee-high yellow flowers surrounded by a pallet of watermelon-sized green leaves.

The luxuriant yellow blossoms of the skunk cabbage form an enchanting tableau in our roadside bogs that can be irresistible to tourists. When you see someone parked by the side of the road picking skunk cabbage flowers, you know they are from somewhere else.

That would explain the bright yellow bouquets of these flowers tossed along our roadsides from moving vehicles shortly after the tourist’s eyes begin to water from the choking aroma of these unique blooms.

While the practice of picking wildflowers is generally discouraged in the wild lands of this great country for fear that the missing flowers cannot be enjoyed by other nature lovers, our tourist visitors are encouraged to pick all of the skunk cabbage flowers they could possibly want, providing an endless source of amusement for the locals.

Native Americans used the skunk cabbage for medicine, magic and food. It was one of the most important medicinal plants, used as a general cure for everything from headaches to female troubles. Putting skunk cabbage leaves in a canoe out on the ocean worked like a charm to calm the seals, so they were easier to catch. The leaves were used to store cakes of dried berries before the invention of Tupperware™.

Skunk cabbage is poisonous to humans, but it can be made edible, depending on your definition of the term, by cooking. The roots were baked in stone ovens or boiled with several changes of water.

Throughout the history of this land, skunk cabbage has been a starvation food. Unless you are a bear. Just out of hibernation, bears consider skunk cabbage an ideal spring tonic and laxative.

The skunk cabbage was called “Uncle” during the time before salmon. That was after the melting of the continental ice sheet some 15,000 years ago, when there were no salmon in our rivers. This was long before we had the state Department of Fish and Wildlife to blame.

As the legend goes, when the first spring salmon swam upriver, Uncle Skunk Cabbage told them he had kept the people from starving. As a reward, the salmon gave the skunk cabbage a war club, an elk hide blanket and rich soil along the river, where it lives to this day.

The legend of the skunk cabbage is as relevant today as it ever was. It is a symbol of starvation in a land without salmon. With the failure of the salmon restoration industry to restore our salmon, we could lose our fisheries to extinction. If we lose our salmon, we could be forced to eat skunk cabbage.

If that happens, you can rely on this wilderness gossip columnist to come up with a recipe.

Gather your skunk cabbage roots on the uphill side of the road to avoid exposure to leaked oil, transmission fluid or radiator coolant. Peel the roots and soak them overnight in a mixture of Epsom salts and cod liver oil. Flush with creek water then place in a large kettle over a fire. Bring to a boil, changing the water every hour or so. After boiling from four to seven hours, remove the glutinous mass to a large bowl and mash it together with a mixture of nutmeg, allspice and red pepper flakes.

Serving tip: Once the mash has curdled, place it out in the woods where no one will step in it. Be sure to follow me for more skunk cabbage recipes.

Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist” whose column appears here every Thursday. He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.