The Stink Melon

While moving piles of composted rice hulls the other day, I looked on the back-side of the pile and saw a familiar sight.  Vines.  There were vines covering the entire pile.  I say it looked familiar because I could spot these vines in my childhood and identify them very quickly.  Even though I can identify the vine, I still don't know the official name of this plant.

As a kid, it wasn't the vines that we were interested in.  We were interested in the fruit that grew on them.  We called these things, "Stink Melons."  They got their name because if you busted them open, they would stink.  Their maturity always coincided with the soybean harvest.  They grow primarily on the fence rows, but their vines grow out into the field and had a tendency to get wrapped around the pick-up reel of the combine.  Every once in a while, you had to stop the combine, get out with a pocketknife, and cut the vines off the end of the cutter bar.

To give you proper scale, I'm holding a stink melon in my hand.  As you'll note, it is the PERFECT shape and size for throwing at your brother or cousin.  The stage of ripeness of the one below is such that it is still hard.  If you hit your brother or cousin with one like this, it is gonna hurt.  However, if you get one a little more ripe, it'll be soft and hot in the summer sun.  If you throw it and hit your brother or cousin, it will bust open, covering the recipient with a pungent odor and ooze that sent you running for the nearest water hose, if there was one.  If I sound experienced at this, it is because we had more than our fair share of 'stink melon' wars back then.

Back in my childhood, there weren't cell phones to keep us mesmerized.  Bring back the stink melons, I say.  Young people today are missing out on all the fun.