Generations of local residents have long hunted uncultivated ginseng on the outlying slopes of Pittsburgh’s moist, shaded forest understories. Working the hollows, their keen eyes scour the northeast-facing bases of sugar maples and tulip poplars. The agile but delicate fingers of local “sangers” sift through calcium-rich soils, seeking the prized plant for its healing humanoid roots and entwined mystique.
Denizen of our secluded woodland coves, ginseng has served as a gateway to herbal remedies and may be the most iconic ingredient in our area’s folk cookbook. Superstition has it that ginseng, or “goblin grass,” is so intuitive and powerful it can sense danger and will respond with invisibility. It’s said to appear only for those it has chosen, and lucky pickers are certain to be blessed with vitality, longevity, and the presence of youth.
The herb has largely maintained its mythological status because no one can estimate how much wild American ginseng remains here.
The arrival of the Scots-Irish in the early 18th century brought old world pharmacology practices to Appalachia. Those applications, fused with the Native American reverence for nature and African Earth-based traditions, created the quintessential Appalachian foragers who conjured a unique approach to restoration that is equal parts science and spirit. These cultures all adopted and maintained ginseng’s fabled legacy as a brain booster, adaptogen, and aphrodisiac.
Centuries of often women-led bushcrafting have turned ginseng’s roots from seed to tonic and tea, treating anything from low energy to poor pancreatic function in the family’s elderly, or fortifying women’s strength in preparation for birth. Fueled by the fame of its therapeutic benefits, the herb was formerly an income lifeline, especially for rural communities, ever since its export boom in the 1700s.
Today, China values the product so much that a pound of wild, dried American ginseng root can be sold internationally for over $500. But most ginseng currently in the marketplace is either greenhouse-cultivated for mass production in Wisconsin, or, less commonly, farmed in wild-simulated environments by medicinal hobbyists.
American ginseng is increasingly being studied for a likely use in modern pharmaceuticals thanks to its ability to reduce Alzheimer’s symptoms and improve psychological function — enhancing its global economic and medicinal value. Because of this, over the last couple decades, the scientific community has doubled down on its investment in our region’s rare plants and herbal abundance.
Ginseng’s healing properties and financial interests have spurred an unfortunate succession of over-harvesting and habitat loss across western Pennsylvania. It’s now classified by the Pa. Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources as botanically “vulnerable,” or in danger of irreversible decline. Popularity with poachers has led to increasingly strict foraging laws to promote the plant’s sustainability and reduce illegal profiting, especially off private property.
The legal panax quinquefolius picking season varies by state — here, it runs from Sep. 1 to Nov. 30 to coincide with its seed viability. Hopeful harvesters collecting for personal use don’t need a permit for seasonal gathering, but in foraging circles, it’s customary to only take what you need and to take from where the plant is naturally abundant.
By the time the fall equinox has arrived, the chances of spotting wild ginseng are nearly gone. Novice eyes will most easily identify the herb in mid to late August, when bundles of tart, red berries peek out above surrounding low-growing perennials, before they’ve been gobbled up by rabbits and deer. There are currently no restrictions against tagging the plants for later digging, however.
A master of mimicry, ginseng’s elusiveness is part of its lure. Other common natives like virginia creeper or buckeye saplings share its botanical characteristics, with palmate, five-leaflet leaf whorls. Its fruit stalks resemble those of its indicator plants, jack-in-the-pulpit and false Solomon’s seal. All of these plants are often found in the same wet and shady places, tucked below tree litter and between rattlesnake ferns.
According to Pennsylvania regulations, ginseng cannot be collected from state lands or as immature plants with fewer than three leaf prongs. And because its ideal growing conditions are so particular, found seeds must be replanted at the original collection site to improve the plant’s chances of sprouting. Any ginseng trading requires detailed reporting and a horticultural commercial license from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
The unique ecosystem of Appalachia’s forests are one of the only places in the world where wild American ginseng thrives. Many of our geographical region’s hilltop growing areas hold the promise of a future herbal haven — ready to evolve into environmental and economic beacons of either conservation or exploitation. It’s hard to tell how much of that outcome is up to those that live here.
