Читать книгу Little Wanderers - Margaret Warner Morley - Страница 5
THISTLES.
ОглавлениеNobody can help liking thistles—that is, to look at. We do not care to handle them, nor do they care to have us, which perhaps is why they are covered all over with such sharp prickles.
The prickles are an intimation to us to let them alone.
They do not want to be handled, and they do not want to be eaten. When a plant arms itself with thorns or prickles, that is its way of saying “hands off.” Few creatures besides donkeys eat thistles.
It is said that donkeys are fond of them, and some horses will nibble at them, but on the whole the thistles are let alone, excepting by the farmer, who digs them up.
Thistles are much more troublesome than dandelions, for they get into the hay and grain, and if let alone some kinds will kill out all other plants and occupy the land themselves.
There are many kinds of thistles. Our large native ones that bear beautiful showy purple, or pink, or white heads are not, as a rule, very troublesome to the farmer.
Canada thistle.
The little Canada thistle is the pest he dreads. That, like the dandelion, came from Europe. No doubt its seeds were first brought over—a very few of them—with other seeds from the Old World. But all the little emigrant asked was to get started.
Once across the sea, it was able to conquer the plants of America and get a place for itself, for its seeds fly, like those of the dandelion, and in very much the same way.
The Canada thistle spreads by running roots that live through the winter, as well as by seeds, so no wonder it quickly found its way far and wide.
It is for this reason sometimes called the creeping thistle, and because it is so troublesome it is also named the Cursed thistle.
There is a thistle in Europe which bears a light yellow flower head and is called the Blessed thistle or the Holy thistle. It has its name because people used to believe it had power to counteract poison. This thistle has been brought over from Europe, and is sometimes to be found in the southern part of the United States, where it has run wild.
Thistle heads are often very large and handsome. Like the dandelion flower clusters, they are made up of a large number of small blossoms.
Bees and blossoms are very fond of thistle honey, and they can almost always be found on the blossoms, sucking out the drop of honey which is to be found in each little flower of the cluster.
At the bottom of each little flower, as in the dandelion, is an akene. An akene, we remember, is a tight-fitting seed case containing one seed. The thistle akene also has a plume to fly with.
The thistle plume has no stalk, but grows right from the top of the akene. The plumed akenes are packed tightly away beneath the scaly bracts that surround them.
These bracts in the thistle are generally covered with sharp prickles. So, although one likes to look at a thistle and inhale its fragrance, it is not a pleasant flower to handle.
When the thistle seeds are ripe, the prickly covering loosens, and the akenes come trooping out in a soft, fluffy mass. Away they fly, one by one, as the breeze dislodges them and carries them off. They are much more showy than the dandelion akenes, for the plumes are much larger.
Away they go, this way and that, and after a while the wind blows them against a tree branch, or a fence rail, or a stone. Then the akene thus stopped drops off from the plume to the ground. The akene, in this case, is done sailing about. It has come to rest and very likely will lie until the next spring before it sprouts.
The plume is not harmed at all when the akene lets go, but at the next gust of wind flies on, lighter than ever.
One often sees these seedless plumes sailing about in the summer and fall.
People sometimes gather the heads of large thistles before the seeds are ripe, pull out the pink part of the flowers, carefully pull off the prickly bracts, and hang the rest up to dry. The akenes do not then fall off, but the plumy part fluffs out and makes a pretty pompon with which the children’s hats can be trimmed.