Where the Pawpaws Grow: Finding and Conserving Kentucky’s Banana

There is a certain kind of quiet you find deep in Appalachia. The kind where the air hangs heavy with damp earth and the only sound is the soft trickle of water over stone. And that is where the pawpaw patch lives. Tucked away in the shade, half-forgotten, waiting on folks who know where to look.

The shaded leaves of a pawpaw tree blocking out the sun in the sky. Photo by Danielle Kirk.

A Touch of the Tropics in the Mountains: Pawpaws’ Habitat and Production

It was summer 2021 when we first moved to our slice of heaven along the river, and I was so hopeful that we would find a few pawpaw trees along the bank. Of course, I had to fight my way through the invasive Japanese knotweed before I could even see what else was growing down there, but it was nothing a couple of weedeaters could not handle. We got it all cleared out and could finally take stock of what trees we had growing along the river. I noticed we had a few sycamores, a few birches, some small silver maple saplings, and as I got towards the end of our property line; there it was. It did not tower like an oak, nor did its canopy grow wide like a maple. Its trunk was slender and stood a meek 16 feet tall, and its bark was gray and worn. As I looked up into its canopy, I noticed its leaves. They were massive, hand-sized leaves that pointed downward, smooth on the edges. Something about this particular tree looked like it belonged in some sort of tropical paradise. I was not sure about the overall health of the tree, but I was sure I had found exactly what I was looking for: the perfect pawpaw.

I kept a check on that pawpaw tree that year, but I never noticed a bloom or fruit of any kind. Even though I was disappointed, the experience only made me more determined to learn what I needed to do to help support its life cycle. It was not going to fruit, not only because of the lack of sunlight but also because of the invasive knotweed that had been growing around it. I also learned that unlike most fruiting trees, both flies and beetles germinate the pawpaw. They need another tree nearby, too, that is either a different cultivar or that was grown from another seed to pollinate the flower, or it will not set fruit. This knowledge came at the perfect time, because we had been growing our small farm, and we had recently added goats to keep the weeds eaten back, plus farm animals meant we would have an abundance of flies hanging around—perfect for germination! 

Two blossoming flowers on the branches of a pawpaw tree. The creek in the background shows this pawpaw is in a "riparian buffer," the strip of forested land around a body of water. Photo by Danielle Kirk.

The next spring I was more hopeful because no knotweed, more sunlight, and more flies, meant more fruit. Around early April, I went down to the river to take a look and could not believe my eyes. The tree had the smallest deep maroon bell shaped flowers all over! I was so excited that one part of the process worked, and now we just had to hope that the musky scent the flowers put off would attract the flies, so I could collect some pawpaws!

A Labor of Fruit: Cultivating Pawpaws

Just as it is with human Papaws, the name of the game is sit around and wait. I waited through the seasons and each phase of the growing cycle, waiting first for the flies and beetles to germinate the flower in early spring and then for the zebra swallowtail butterfly to lay her eggs under the leaves in the summer. As goldenrod and ironweed painted the fields, while summer gave way to fall; the tree’s flowers gave way to fruit. I slowly waited on the leaves to start losing their shine and soften into a yellow. I waited through it all, and even when I thought they were ripe; I knew I had to wait until the pawpaws decided to let go, like the leaves on the trees around them, and fall to the forest floor.

Finally, come mid-September, I found one. I had finished up my evening farm chores and started walking the bank like I had countless times before. I noticed that one of the pawpaws that had been hanging in place just the day before was now missing. So I went to work. I scoured the floor around the base of the tree, and that is when I found it: my first pawpaw of the season, and even sweeter, my first pawpaw from this tree. Struggling to contain my excitement, I ran back to the house to show everyone, as they knew I had been waiting for this moment! The fruit was green and plump, with some brown spots here and there. The flesh was as soft as a peach, and as I peeled it back with my fingers, it revealed a golden flesh that smelled so sweet. We all shared that first pawpaw, taking turns trying to describe the flavor: almost like a banana, almost like a mango, but all unique in and of itself.

Harvested pawpaws bundled together quickly in a shirt, showing the fruitfulness and abundance of the tree in its season this year. Photo by Danielle Kirk.

For the past several years, I have spent time along the river learning more about the intricacies of the pawpaw and the entire ecosystem it creates. From the beetles and flies that it needs to pollinate the flowers, to the new lives of butterflies that emerge from the leaves, to the raccoons, turkeys, and deer that race against me to eat the fruit. Our goats have focused on keeping the knotweed at bay, plus we cleared out a couple of weaker trees. By allowing more light to filter in, we have managed a healthier habitat for pawpaws to grow. The pawpaw tree has spread itself not just from the seeds of missed pawpaws, but by sending shoots up from the roots. I have watched as this single pawpaw tree took a riverbank that was once taken over by invasive species and not only healed the land but also grew into an entire patch.

It is so important that we support native species. If you’re interested in learning about how you can get your hands on some pawpaw trees, check out Kentucky Division of Forestry pawpaw seedling sales this fall that will ship in the spring. There are also several Kentucky nurseries that sell selected cultivars-pawpaws that have been bred for flavor and size. You can learn more about this and other pawpaw resources, groups, and festivals by visiting Kentucky State University’s pawpaw page.

Because they grow along rivers and streams, pawpaws help slow erosion and protect stream banks during floods. This makes them an invaluable riparian buffer that also grows valuable fruits. There are state and federal cost-share programs that can help pay to plant stream-banks with native fruit and nut trees, such as the pawpaw. To learn more, visit LiKEN’s Community Wealth project page.