Last month, as I contemplated the rapidly approaching month of June, I made a mental note to remember that it had been a rather placid May in terms of the mercury. I hold no such promise for June. It will be hot, disgustingly and appallingly hot. There’s no way around it. Nor would I have it any other way.
First, allow me to point out that the furnace that is June plays a significant role in our own human demographics. The same sun and blue skies that lured many a snowbird or seasonal visitor to southern Arizona in the late fall now send them packing. No one could fault these migratory Homo sapiens for abandoning their sometimes home. Still, I reckon it a sun-seared badge of courage to be one of the insane folks who stay put and wait things out. Real Arizonans don’t jump ship just when our typical summer temperatures rear their ugly heads!
Nor do a host of other flora and fauna that flourish in this Hades on Earth. As June commences, look for several notable botanical events. Blooming cacti provide a flare of color in an otherwise grim month. A lesser known event is the emergence of a plant whose name provides some measure of amusement to those at least partially versed in the Spanish language. Mala Mujer, translated as “bad woman,” begins to poke its somewhat maple-shaped leaves through the parched soil. I have encountered this odd plant only in our own Santa Cruz County, despite extensive travels in southeastern Arizona.
This intriguing member of the diverse and frequently surprising Euphorbiacea provides a June jolt to the curious and uninitiated. The entire plant—even the flowers—bears violently stinging hairs that at some point in the past clearly sacked a Spanish-speaking, misogynistic fellow—none too happy for the unexpected attack. In fact the stings of Cnidiscolus angustidens seem ratcheted up a notch even from those of the more widely feared Stinging Nettle, which, incidentally, emerges in May and June in some Sky Islands canyons.
Whereas others understandably cringe at the prospect of being stung by a plant, it merely whets my appetite to learn more about such extreme species. Speaking of appetite—when I first looked up the latin name of Mala Mujer it rang a dim bell in my cranium. Indeed, it turned out to be a close relative of a plant that I had eaten in central Florida back in the 1980s. That species, Tread Softly (Cnidiscolus stimulosus), is a miniaturized version of ours, growing only about a foot tall. In contrast, Mala Mujer will—eventually, with the boost of monsoon rains—grow to a relatively towering three-plus feet and be at least as wide. It is a beautifully robust plant that demands attention beyond its protective and violent nature.
When the winsome white flowers emerge they attract an intriguing array of invertebrate pollinators. Several skipper butterflies, as well as soldier beetles, seek—presumably—the nectar, if not the pollen. At least one species of insect dines upon the foliage, although it has so far eluded my probing gaze. Such a meal is no mean feat, as, in addition to the stinging hairs, the plant has sap that is a concoction of toxic chemicals. A white, latex-laden goo emanates from any significant wound, daring would-be herbivores to dine at their own risk and peril. I’ve done a few experiments with this sap, and it may hold promise as a sort of primitive glue.
Even more fascinating, I ponder the possibilities of the roots of Mala Mujer as food. The tubers of Tread Softly, once cooked, provided fine fare for me in Florida, so I am salivating at sampling our own species this year. If you read about me in the papers, now you’ll know why! Until then, I’ll appreciate how this strange species helps to ferry me safely through the sometimes insane dryness and temperatures that make June the defining climatic gauntlet in our Sky Islands year.
Vincent Pinto and his wife, Claudia, run Raven’s Way Wild Journeys. They offer local tours dedicated to the preservation of the incredible biodiversity in the Sky Islands. For info, go to www.ravensnatureschool.com