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A bountiful papaya crop this summer is attracting wild animals that steal the ripe fruit. Holes in the leaves mean that the zebra swallowtail caterpillars have fed on them. Papaya trees are the only host plant for the beautiful black-and-white butterflies. The leaves contain a chemical that repels most other insects and mammals. Photo by Susan Jonas

The small, purple-brown flowers of papaya trees bloom on bare branches in early spring. They have a slightly unpleasant smell that attracts pollinators. Photo by Betty Hall Photography

By Susan Jonas

Danville Garden Club

In 2015, I wrote an article for this newspaper about the new-found interest in papaya trees and fruit. I interviewed a man named Jim Latimer who had a papaya patch at his home on Herrington Lake. Mr. Latimer was kind enough to give me a pot with five tiny seedlings of his own trees, as well as some fruit to try.

I planted these little trees in a back corner of my garden and they are now rewarding me for my care over the past nine years. Honestly, they didn’t require much maintenance. We mulched them with leaves every fall and watered them very rarely during droughts. Otherwise, they took care of themselves, as plants from this area do.

Now heavily laden with fruit, the branches bend toward the ground under the weight of the potato-sized papayas that grow in clusters of two or three. The tallest tree reaches a height of about 20 feet, and many of the papayas are too tall to pick.

But I don’t have to climb to get them. The ripe fruit falls to the ground, releasing its alluring scent that attracts every animal in the neighborhood. It’s a clever trick to spread the seeds, a godsend for everyone but me. Possums, squirrels, raccoons, groundhogs, birds, even foxes and probably dogs, all have their sights set on the fruit of this tree.

I’ve had a few papayas hanging on my young trees for three or four years, but never as many as this year. Every summer I look forward to eating them, but something always gets there first. In the last four years I’ve eaten exactly one papaya. All the others disappear when they’re close to ripening. Papayas don’t ripen right off the tree, so there’s no point picking them green and waiting.

Last year I contacted the extension service. They took sympathy and gave me thick wax bags to tie around each green fruit while it was still hanging on the tree. The animals said, “Oh, look, cute little bags to transport our papayas in!” and scurried away with armloads of ripe fruit.

I have enjoyed three papayas so far this year and will keep a close eye on my trees. Apparently an electric fence is the safest way to keep animals from raiding a papaya field, but I won’t go that far.

Members of the Garden Club of Danville visited the University of Kentucky’s experimental papaya orchard in Lexington in 2015. There I tasted my first papaya and decided to plant my own patch. No one said anything about competition from marauding animals at the time. I just hope the harvest this year is bountiful enough that they’ll share with me.

The papaya, Asimina triloba, is the largest native fruit of North America. Native Americans ate papayas and they were an important food source for colonists in late summer. The trees grow in 26 states in the East and Midwest, mostly in the wild.

How could Americans forget this tasty fruit? When we stopped going into the woods to get food, the papaya was left behind. The aromatic but delicate fruit doesn’t keep for long, which is why you won’t find it in any regular grocery store. In late summer, you can sometimes find it at farmers’ markets, and it will keep in the refrigerator for about a week.

Papayas are rich in minerals and vitamin C. The yellow to orange flesh can be eaten raw, made into ice cream, used as a substitute for bananas in baking, or used as a filling for custard pies. Most people say it tastes like a cross between banana pudding and mango.

The best thing to do with a ripe papaya is to cut it in half and scoop it out with a spoon, or simply slurp it with the skin on, spitting out the large, hard seeds, which can be poisonous if eaten.

With the local food movement and a return to regional cuisine, interest in papayas is growing. Several universities are testing varieties for the best flavor and longest shelf life in the hopes of making them a profitable crop. Kentucky State University in Frankfort runs the largest papaya research program in the country.

Gardeners find the trees a fascinating addition to the landscape. In early spring, their small purplish-brown flowers bloom on the bare branches, attracting pollinators. The large, tropical-looking leaves are a rich green throughout the summer and turn buttery yellow in the fall. The fallen fruit is messy if left on the ground, so it’s best not to plant them near the house.

Like blueberries, papayas are not self-fertile, meaning different varieties must be planted together to produce fruit. Young trees are still not easy to find at local nurseries, but you may find them at a farmer’s market or native plant nursery.

If you have enough space and want to feed the local wildlife, I recommend a small papaya field. Who knows? Maybe you can even try one yourself.