You can’t escape the cultural associations embodied by plants. You can’t have one without the other. ~ Devoured: The Extraordinary Story of Kudzu, the Vine That Ate the South
As I reflect upon the green vines that blanket hillsides all around these parts, I wonder if well-read visitors think about Southern authors and their use of kudzu to create a mood. James Dickey called it an unkillable ghost in Deliverance and in “Good Old Boy”, Willie Morris implied that someday kudzu would cover the whole earth. We do see plenty of it around here, at least. Where did it come from? And why?
Seemed like a good idea at the time
In 1876, Japanese representatives introduced kudzu at the World’s Fair Centennial Exhibition, per the Smithsonian. The article does not state that fashionable ladies strolled through the exhibits, seeking some way to outdo their neighbors, but you and I both know that social pecking orders may have played a part. Anyway, people thought this vine would be a novel addition to their gardens. Of course, they did not know that southerners would eventually think of this vine in the same terms as the plant in the movie, “Little Shop of Horrors”.
Surprisingly, kudzu takes a while to establish itself on a patch of land, and cannot tolerate continuous grazing by livestock. Farmers didn’t attempt to increase its growth until the Dustbowl of 1935, but in fairness, they only tried then because some of them were paid up to $8 per acre to sweeten the deal. Congress thought kudzu would be useful in fighting soil erosion. Well, that probably worked. But. No, it really did work, but better in some situations than others. For example, the Smithsonian tells us that the railroad and highway developers were highly receptive to cost-effective ways to cover the barren gullies their development efforts created.
- Kudzu kills other vegetation by blocking sunlight and hogging nutrients. (Spruce)
- It can spread through seed dissemination, but most often creates new roots at the nodes, and those can become independent plants.
- The kudzu root is a component in Asian herbal medicine, and the leaves are edible. (The Messy Epicure)
- The vine covers 250,000 acres in Alabama and 7 million acres across the United States. (Advance Local)
- As vines develop in the same location over the years, the mat might grow to a depth of 8′.
- Kudzu made a second exhibition appearance at the New Orleans Exposition 1883.
- Kudzu is part of the legume family (Fabaceae) and produces fragrant, purple flowers that smell like grapes.
- Kudzu should have been kuzu. The Japanese word was translated incorrectly.
Where does it flourish now?
I have heard kudzu called the vine that ate the south, but The Nature Conservancy also mentions it as mile-a-minute. That’s close. It grows a foot a day, once it establishes itself. It will completely cover trees, utility poles, and whole houses. Well, it does in the states where it thrives.
People who live in the north may never have seen kudzu, but it is as common in the south as sweet tea and buttered biscuits. For sure, it is entrenched on southern hillsides, with the most density in Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia. However, kudzu has made an appearance as far west as Oregon and as far north as Ontario. Since we haven’t heard desperate screams from the coast, the Northeast, or the Midwest, we know it isn’t thriving anywhere as much as it is here. Lucky us.
What good is it, and for whom?
While I did say that kudzu can’t sustain steady grazing, it’s perfectly healthy for cows and horses to eat, assuming an accessible location and that the leaves haven’t been sprayed with enough herbicides to kill a cow. Literally. Also, the Messy Epicure site includes a recipe for kudzu jelly, in case you get weary of pedestrian options such as grape, blackberry, and strawberry. Not sure what that says about you, but … Honey can be made from the blossoms, and the vines can be used to make baskets. One more use is from the roots. In the past, they were ground into flour, and you might still see some in U.S. stores. I haven’t observed this myself, but Aces says it’s so.
Still, there just aren’t enough benefits to outweigh the trouble, from an agricultural perspective. If you have ever tried to walk across these vines, you know navigation can be treacherous. How do people gather the blossoms? The root/vine thing is easier to imagine, but who would go to the effort if something else is easier to access? The kudzu I’ve observed–and I’ve observed many acres–is predominantly on a hillside/gully. That’s no fun to traverse, best case. If you want to get rid of it, get a shovel and dig it up, root by root. It is impervious to Roundup to a high degree and even resists fire. Yes, there’s one more solution – check out the video.
But I don't hate it
I sound so very negative about this invasive, ubiquitous vine. It murders plant life that many would prefer to see rather than the tendrils and roots that strangle trees and anything else in its way. While kudzu has potential for commercial use, it grows best, as already mentioned, in relatively inaccessible areas. And, yet.
I frequently drive through states where visitors don’t have the opportunity to cast their eyes on vine-draped forests and utility wires. But every time I return to Tennessee, I have to admit to a little thrill when I see a mass of green netting draped across unidentifiable towering objects. Yes, I know it doesn’t impact my property or my land, so perhaps I have no right to defend it. I get that kudzu may have outstayed its welcome. But here’s the thing. The sight of it says home to me, and that always feels like a gift.
