Way Down Yonder in the Paw Paw Patch
There are many relationships that stitch together the tapestry of a place as biodiverse as the Tennessee River Gorge. John Muir famously wrote that “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” Some of those relationships are distant, tertiary. Others are direct and dependent, like the one between a striking butterfly and its’ host tree that are native to the Gorge.
The zebra swallowtail butterfly is an unmistakable beauty.
As her name suggests, her wings are zebra-striped, with the addition of red spots at the base of the hind wings. With her striking pattern and long tails, she is one who commands attention. And when she captures my attention, I follow because the caterpillar of the zebra swallowtail feeds exclusively on the young leaves of our native pawpaw tree, and that is where she needs to lay her eggs. Find a pawpaw patch, and you can find the largest native North American fruit—the delectable pawpaw!
If you were ever young in Southern Appalachia, you may or may not have known the zebra swallowtail, and you may or may not have eaten a pawpaw, but there is a good chance you knew the song:
Where, oh where, oh where is Susie? Where, oh where, oh where is Susie? Where, oh where, of where is Susie? Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.
Pickin' up pawpaws; put 'em in a basket. Pickin' up pawpaws; put 'em in a basket. Pickin' up pawpaws; put 'em in a basket. Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.
You might have learned different verses. If you were at a girls’ camp you might have been looking for Danny instead of Susie, or you might have put them in your pocket instead of in a basket, but we all picked up pawpaws and put them somewhere, and as we kept singing, the song led us to action:
Come along, boys, and let's go find her. Come along, boys, and let's go find her. Come along, boys, and let's go find her. Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.
Unfortunately, as much as we loved singing about, and imagining, little Susie, or Danny, or Nellie, or Timmy, most folks who have sung about pawpaws have never had the opportunity to pick one up and eat it. And those who have not, are missing out! I call the flavor of a pawpaw “mangomelonana,” because it really is a combination of mango, banana, and melon! They are a great addition to homemade ice cream or fruit smoothies, but I prefer to eat them right out of the skin. (Though, that preference might change should I ever make to Paw Paw, Michigan where the Paw Paw Brewing Company brews a Paw Paw Wheat Beer.) And, yes, “paw paw” is an acceptable spelling, as is “pawpaw,” and paw-paw.
To eat a pawpaw, simply cut through to the seeds and work your way around the fruit as if you were halving an avocado. Pull the halves apart and use a spoon to scrape the flesh and seeds out of the shell. Just like eating watermelon, you can clean the seeds in your mouth, then have a contest to see who can spit them the farthest.
In spite of their delicious meat that is also rich in vitamins and minerals, the pawpaw fruit has never taken root commercially. Like our native persimmon, once it is ripe, it falls off the tree and is quickly scooped up by raccoons, possums, deer, or just about any other critter that wanders by. If you are lucky to find one that has dropped and hasn’t been eaten, don’t waste time. They only have a two or three day shelf life. Enjoying a pawpaw is an exercise in being in the moment!
If you want to grow your own pawpaw patch, and you have the patience for it, they do best if you grow them from seed. They like at least partial shade, and prefer a moist, but well-drained environment. Once you find a pawpaw tree with ripe fruit, harvest the seeds and plant them right away without letting them dry out, preferably in a shady place. The seeds will spend the next year putting down a hardy taproot, then poke through the ground in the middle of next summer. It will probably take five or six years to get fruit, but the wait will be worth it to have your own native fruit growing in your yard or woods!
For me, however, finding wild pawpaws is much more exciting then growing them, and Southeast Tennessee is in the heart of pawpaw country. I have found pawpaw patches in the area, but have only harvested a small handful of ripe, wild fruit, largely because of their aforementioned tendency to drop as soon as they are ripe.
I have read that they like open areas and rich bottomlands, but I have most commonly found pawpaws on wooded hillsides in riparian zones, which is of course, exactly what the Tennessee River Gorge is, so I suspect it would be the perfect place to find them. They are mid canopy trees, growing in patches, and have very distinct drooping leaves, ten to twelve inches long by four to five inches at their widest, and clustered at the end of their branches.
You won’t find ripe pawpaws until late summer or fall, but if you want fruit then, you need to go hunting for the pawpaw patch now, so you know where to find the fruit later. Of course there are two ways to find a pawpaw patch. You can either wander through the gorge looking for those tropical-looking leaves, or go butterfly hunting and let the zebra swallowtail lead you right to them!
When you do find a patch, sit down and sing the pawpaw song. Last time I sat under a pawpaw tree, I wrote a couple new verses:
When she ain’t lookin’ gonna take her basket.
When she ain’t lookin’ gonna take her basket.
When she ain’t lookin’ gonna take her basket,
Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.
If she wants it back, she’s gonna have to kiss me.
If she wants it back, she’s gonna have to kiss me.
If she wants it back, she’s gonna have to kiss me,
Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.