I was walking across the field; being towed, really, by a white fluffy white dog named Dakota. My husband, Matt was with us. Blackberry brambles covered the shrubs and trees to my right, beyond them was the river. To my left was a small field of open rolling grass. Bramble-covered shrubs and trees lined the far side as well, marking where the river bent back on itself.
The air was clear and warm. I passed through clouds of the aroma of a natural perfume; a sweet, musky smell reminding me of fringecup flowers but with a bit more musk to it. The scent was very strong but I could see no source for it.
I walked to the edge of the river bank, scanning the landscape for flowers. Besides the dandelion and English daisy, the only thing in bloom was skunk cabbage. I’ve smelled skunk cabbage before – it has that name for good reason. I couldn’t imagine this lovely scent was coming from that flower.
Typically I smell things in whiffs and can barely hold them long enough to formulate a description. But these clouds of smell were huge and lingering. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweetness. Even Matt caught the scent, confirming it wasn’t my imagination.
Still curious about the source of the aroma, we continued towards the tip of the field, where the river bends back on itself. We were following four cormorants that we’d flushed from behind our neighbor’s house, a two-story dwelling that overlooks the river at the base of this oxbow. I was hoping to get a photo of the birds swimming.
I had noticed cormorants on the river the day before – my first time ever seeing them on our little stretch of water. There were nine of them below the bridge at South Valley, and one had just come up with a 4-6” long silver fish in its beak. The bird quickly swallowed and seven of the animals flapped their way up river, out of sight beyond the bend. Dakota and I lingered on the bridge and got to see the last two birds do a couple more dives, tails flaring like open fans, before they too spooked and flew upriver, wings slapping against the water. One paused long enough for me to see the bright orange skin around the base of its bill and around its eye, identifying it as a double-crested cormorant.
Earlier this day Matt had pointed out huge flocks of cormorants circling over the section of river behind our house. We were now down in the field expressly to watch the cormorants. As we walked across the grass surges of cormorants began flying in over the tree tops, splitting into smaller groups as some landed in the water to our left, some to our right, and some further upstream. Matt suggested that these were the same flocks he had seen earlier in the day, who had drifted down with the current and were just arriving back to repeat the cycle.
I left the dog with Matt and slipped into the open brush that bordered the crest of the oxbow. There were no cormorants. I headed downstream to see if they were around the bend and stumbled into a small meadow full of blooming skunk cabbage.
The piercing acrid smell I was accustomed to experiencing around skunk cabbage wasn’t present. In its place was a sweet musky aroma – the scent I’d caught earlier in the field! Amazed, my pursuit of the wily cormorants was forgotten and I bent down for closer inspection.
Eventually I recalled that I’d left Matt and the dog behind in order to see the birds. I continued around the bend only to have them spot me first and take flight further downstream. But that was okay with me – I’d discovered something new about a plant that I’ve never given much thought to. Now the wheels are turning and I find myself drawn to learn more about this early spring bloomer.
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