When I was a kid, I used to collect pokeweed berries in the fall. Not to eat — I knew that they’re poisonous— but to use the magenta-colored juice as ink. (Another common name for this plant is “inkberry.”) I remember writing a Thanksgiving card to my grandmother one year, using that ink. I felt like a creative genius, using a substance from nature rather than a store-bought pen. I didn’t know that the vibrant color would fade over time to an unimpressive brown, but even if I had, I don’t think it would have mattered. I thought it looked beautiful. And the color lasted long enough for my grandmother to enjoy it.
As an adult, I still enjoy seeing the pokeberry fruits as they ripen, with their neon pink stems and purple-black berries. But the weedy native perennial has never found favor with me in the garden/landscape. The plants grow to a shrubby size with an open, irregular habit, not particularly attractive in my book. They’re also hard to pull out of the ground except when they’re quite small. They’ll sprout up again after being cut down, and the seeds germinate freely. If you have one plant, you’ll soon have many.
Overall, I’ve had a sort of love-hate relationship with the pokeberry. But I recently stumbled across an article by Terry W. Johnson on the website of the Georgia Department of Natural Resources — Wildlife Resources Division. In it, I discovered that the ungainly pokeberry has more positive attributes than I’d realized.
Pokeweed (Phytolacca decandra) is a source of food for wildlife, with deer, fox, opossums, raccoons, and other mammals feeding on the berries. Birds also feast on the fruits: year-round residents northern mockingbirds, brown thrashers, eastern bluebirds, American crows, cardinals, starlings, mourning doves, and red-bellied woodpeckers.
Fall migrants also use the berries to fuel up for their journeys to their wintering grounds. Johnson notes, “The list of these neotropical migrants includes the gray catbird, eastern kingbird, wood thrush, Swainson’s thrush, veery, summer tanager and hooded warbler.”
From Johnson, I also learned that pokeweed is a host plant for the giant leopard moth. I’ve seen these striking white and black moths in our yard, but had no idea that they might be drawn to the property because of the pokeweed. I also didn’t know that ruby-throated hummingbirds sip nectar from pokeweed’s tiny, greenish-white blossoms, or that during spring and early summer, white-tailed deer will nibble on the leaves and stems.
But there’s more to the modest pokeweed than food for wildlife. Johnson says that pokeberry is being researched as a possible treatment for cancer. “According to the American Cancer Society, a chemical found in pokeberry juice has been used to successfully treat cancerous tumors in laboratory mice. The chemical is also being tested to determine if it can protect cells from HIV and AIDS.”
Surprisingly, there’s even more. Says Johnson, “the lowly pokeberry may help solve the energy crisis. Researchers at Wake Forest University have discovered that a dye derived from pokeberries doubles the efficiency of fibers used in solar cells to absorb solar energy.”
Remembering the card I sent to my grandmother so many years ago, I was particularly interested to read this historic note: “The next time you go to a museum and see letters and journals written during the War Between the States, any writing that appears to be penned with brown ink was probably done with pokeberry ink, which turns brown with age.”
While I still plan to yank out the pokeweed that tries to invade my flower beds, with this information in hand, I think I’ll be inclined to let a bit more of the pokeweed stay in the natural areas.
For the full article, go to https://georgiawildlife.com/out-my-backdoor-wondrous-pokeberry
Pam Baxter is an avid organic vegetable gardener who lives in Kimberton. Direct e-mail to pamelacbaxter@gmail.com, or send mail to P.O. Box 80, Kimberton, PA 19442. Share your gardening stories on Facebook at “Chester County Roots.”
