Ethnobotany is a discipline that helps connect me to the natural world in a way that few other things can. In my youth when I encountered a plant I marveled at its beauty, yet knew little or nothing of its other virtues. I walked by veritable feasts of wild edible plants, missed countless medicinal plants that would have cured my occasional ills, and ignored legions of other useful plants not for a lack of interest, but for lack of knowledge.
I believe that we humans quite naturally gravitate to plants on so many levels. The tree that beckons us to climb its sturdy limbs, the juicy berry that invites a tasting, and the tall grass that would make a great shelter all speak to the universal pull that we experience thanks to wild plants. Why, then, are so many ignorant of this vital realm today? I believe that the answer lies largely in lack of exposure. When adults expose their children to little else than the electronic claptrap and useless baubles of modern society that inundate our lives today they miss an opportunity to help connect these young souls to Nature.
A quick look at most habitable environments on our planet soon reveals that, indeed, plants dominate our world. Even today, while people live increasingly disconnected from Nature, they seem to long for its solace more than ever. We still rely upon plants for our oxygen, for beauty, and for countless resources that make our lives possible. Still, we as a species seem hellbent on destroying that which so obviously supports us. We indeed tend to destroy that which we consider foreign or useless. While there are no easy solutions to reconnecting humans with Nature, I believe that wild plants can play a key role in this process.
Regardless of your age and other interests, I strongly encourage you to venture outside to your nearest wild area with the goal of making the acquaintance of some of your native plant neighbors. Even if you don't know their names, reach out and touch them, smell them, and use all of your senses to immerse yourself into a different reality - one that relies not upon other humans, but rather upon plants. Stepping "out of the box" in this fashion can provide profound insights not only into the plant under your inspection, but also into yourself!
Curiosity goes a long way in introducing yourself to plants and in remembering how to identify them. When people complain that its too difficult to identify wild plants, I point out that they can readily recognize a bevy of domesticated food plants in a supermarket, even if they are unlabeled. If you can tell a peach from a nectarine, an orange from a grapefruit, or a head of lettuce from one of cabbage, then you indeed possess the skills required to distinguish wild useful plants! Of course, one of the best and time-tested ways to learn about plants and their uses is from other, more seasoned people. A few field guides go a long way in this regard, but nothing takes the place of direct teacher-student relationship. Acquiring knowledge about wild plants is likely one of if not the oldest skills possessed by humans - a tradition that runs deep within us.
Soon after identifying a particular plant you may be curious if it is edible, if it might help a Poison Ivy rash, or wonder what other qualities it may possess that could benefit you. There is no magical shortcut in learning this knowledge. Study the plants directly, learn from those more knowledgeable than yourself, and consult field guides when you can and (before you know it) you've learned about a few useful plant species! After several months of applying yourself you may well have a nice list or even journal going of the plants that you learned. To this you can begin to add their uses - not by way of mere repetition from other sources but by trying these things for yourself.
Start basic and small with your first experiments. For example, if you're interested in wild edibles, then perhaps sample some wild blackberries or other familiar fruit before tackling more difficult and potentially dangerous species. If you would like to learn fire by friction (i.e. "rubbing 2 sticks together" to create fire) then first learn a few of the softer, yet strong and resin-free woods of your region even before any rubbing occurs!. Experimentation rarely fails to net interesting results when learning various ethnobotanical skills. Do beware, however, of foolhardy moves in regards to wild edible and medicinal plants, as one key mistake is all that it takes to turn a passion in a postscript! This is yet another reason to study with the experts, who have trod a similar path and are now able to guide you along yours. Good ones are able to help guide you through your learning process in a safe and engaging fashion.
I find myself now in this position of Ethnobotany guide and expert. It has taken me many years to admit this to myself, as I mostly despise the latter term. Many so-called experts lack the first-hand knowledge of their topic and are mere shadows of those that have an in-depth understanding of their passion, born of direct experience. Further, it is the wild plants themselves that are the "stars" of Ethnobotany. The focus should be on them, not on the person teaching about them. So, while I would love to have you as my student, I vow to devote this blog to the plants and not to impressing anyone with what I've done with them. I will speak about my Ethnobotany adventures and my experiences with plants, but hopefully with a humility born of a deep respect for these incredible life-givers.
As I travel in Arizona and throughout the world, I find myself increasingly connected to wild plants. They pervade my life, while enriching it beyond comprehension. When I am surrounded by them, I am enveloped by friends, but when there are few or none around (as in many urban areas) then my soul quickly longs for their beauty, solace, mystery, and familiarity. I know that I will always seek the secret world of plants wherever I find myself.
You too can artfully intertwine your world with that of wild plants. They will be your friends for life, providing you with adventure and challenge whenever you venture to any place with even a remnant of wildness. You don't have to be a professional botanist or scientist to learn them. Just remember that all of us are ethnobotanists with a working knowledge of plants - some are just better than others!
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The following narrative gives but a glimpse of how knowing more about the insects of a particular area can translate into being a better Ethnobotanist and Naturalist.....
Every Autumn in the spectacular Sky Islands of southeastern Arizona I look forward to a profound natural event with both humility and hunger. Late Summer and Fall are the times that a species of small Long-horned Beetle covertly descends upon the now lush and unsuspecting Mesquite trees. Velvet Mesquite is the species common where we live, though I suspect that its relatives, Honey Mesquite and Screwbean Mesquite, experience a similar influx. Though it is relatively common to encounter the beetles, the amount of havoc that they wreak upon the branches of the Mesquites is disproportionate to their apparent abundance. In their destructive, though quite natural, wake lies a delicious edible plant part that you can enjoy - more on this later.
After all, how could a small (body ~ 1/2" long; antenna longer than body) insect kill so many branches of a tree noted for the tenacity of its wood? The answer lies in both the anatomy of the Beetle and in the timing of its assault upon the Mesquite branches. In regards to the former, the jaws of the beetle are particularly long and strong, as is the case with most Long-horned Beetle species that I've encountered. They're the type of beetle that give you pause when picking one up, lest those jaws test the integrityof you skin! In the case of the latter, the beetles time their attack so that they are able to girdle (i.e. make a completely encircling cut to) the youngest, most vulnerable branches that grew the previous Spring through current Fall. These youngsters apparently have fewer protections and simply are smaller and easier to girdle than the large ones.
Upon completing this task the death knoll of the particular Mesquite branch in question has been sealed, its life-giving supply of sap having been precipitously and forever cut off. The female Mesquite Girdler Beetle then proceeds to lay a series of eggs in the now sap-poor branch. Flowing sap in a live branch would have likely killed her eggs, hence the need for such a drastic evolutionary strategy to perpetuate the species. The young eventually hatch out of the dead branches to once again perpetuate the cycle of the Mesquite Girdler. This act completed, the adults die and leave the dead branches festooned upon the otherwise live Mesquite tree. Many of these branches easily fall off the tree within a year or two and create a bit of a natural minefield of potent thorns that the intrepid Ethnobotanist must navigate in order to procure the culinary reward afforded by the beetles. Mesquite spines quite easily penetrate all manner of footwear, however impregnable you may deem it!
What is this reward you now ask? Slowly, but surely the girdled wound of the Mesquite exudes a translucent, light amber-colored sap that is designed to seal it against infections and diseases. At first the exudate is merely a thin veneer or small droplet of sap. Eventually, however, some grow to the size of a large grape or so. As you wander through a Mesquite grove in September through December, be it gargantuan trees in a riverside forest or diminutive specimens dotting a grassland, you may begin to notice some of Nature's finest art - amber spheres of light reflecting and refracting the Sun's rays like so many gaudy ornaments. At this moment you have arrived at not only a visual treat, but one that may delight your taste buds as well!
To gather the sap balls, I merely pluck them from their branch stump, noting the level of stickiness that they possess. Early in the gathering season they will, quite naturally, be tackier. and even malleable in your hands. As the Autumn progresses, however, they drier out and take on a more solid form that is even more convenient to gather and store. Be aware, though, that unlike the sap of most conifer trees that I know (e.g. Pines, Cypresses, Junipers, Spruces, & Firs) Mesquite sap is water soluble. Meaning? Namely that they can just as quickly dissolve and disappear after a somewhat unexpected Autumn or early Winter rain storm, as they apparently materialized after the branches were girdled. One storm, then gone! This speaks to one of the Ethnobotanist's and wild forager's main creeds - collect it (when abundant enough) while its there, for tomorrow it may be gone! Still, I always strive to leave some sap behind, not knowing what other sap-eaters may be seeking this treat and wishing to share the feast.
What do I do with these sap nodules? I slowly suck upon them as I wander the incredible wilds of the Sky Islands. They have a rich, yet subtly sweet taste that, unlike candy, never quite gets old. I soon find myself depleting my stores of sap months before they'll be replenished next year. I do store enough to show my students, but am periodically tempted to raid even these meager supplies given my love of the edible oddity.
While I can't vouch for the caloric value of this translucent Mesquite sap, I suspect that it is minor. More important, I feel, is the soothing effect that the sap appears to have on my mouth, throat (a bit of an expectorant effect), and even my soul. I slowly suck upon the sap and I feel immersed in my immediate environment - Mesquite and Man becoming one. So it is with Ethnobotany adventures - they transport me to a world unto itself and one forgotten and neglected by many of my fellow humans.
A quick note on sap types on Mesquite. You may notice that there is a second, much darker (e.g. deep amber to dark orange-red) type of Mesquite sap. Having sampled this type - normally caused by major wounds, such as a human-cut branch - I can say that I have no desire to repeat the feat. As good as the Mesquite Girdler sap is, the darker type is equally as vile. It is the stuff traditionally used to mend broken pottery in the Southwest, not an edible plant part. If you've had a different experience with either type of sap, I would love to hear from you on this topic.
And what, you may ask, becomes of the Mesquite Trees that made this unique treat possible? They continue to grow, attempting to keep one step ahead of the Mesquite Girdler Beetles in their quest to grow bigger and stronger. Two steps forward and one step back for many trees, I suspect. I view this autumnal toll as just one more balance in the infinite checks and balances that define seemingly every nuance and expression of life.
My habit of late is to gather the girdled Mesquite branches and make a pile within which the local birds and other wildlife can take refuge from both inclement weather and predator alike. This MAY allow the then liberated Mesquite trees to be less pruned the following Fall when the young beetles hatch out from the dead branches, though this is perhaps wishful thinking at best. While we (my wife, Claudia, and I) may have somewhat smaller Mesquite trees due to the Beetles, we also have them to thank for this unusual treat!
NOTE: Future entries in blog will contain a wide range of Ethnobotany (= how people employ wild plants for a variety of uses) topics, including: Archery, Basketry, Arts & Crafts, Shelters, Tools, Wild Edible Plants, Wild Medicinal Plants, and much more!
Let me know what you think and....think of taking a class with us at:
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We can custom-make an Ethnobotany walk, lecture, or trip for you, your family, or your organization/group!
