COMPOSITE FAMILY 



top, and at the bottom is a tube brimming with nectar, 

 for the Roadside Thistle, like all the Thistles, keeps 

 open house and many guests frequent its table. There 

 is but one condition — they must come on wings. 



Each Thistle-head ripens seeds by the hundreds, 

 and these seeds are especially attractive to the gold- 

 finches who line their nests with these silky hairs 

 and may often be seen tearing the ripened heads 

 apart. 



What we call the seed is really an oblong, pointed, 

 little shell called akene, that contains just one seed 

 and has attached to it a very beautiful collar of silky 

 hairs. When the seed is ripe and ready to depart on 

 its long journey, the hair-like threads spread, the filmy 

 plumelets open out, and a fairy parachute is formed, 

 carrying the seed which, hanging below, fits its sail 

 to the breeze and seeks its fortune as the fates decree. 



The first season that the seed germinates, the plant 

 develops only a rosette of leaves. A rosette of leaves 

 is part of the tactics of a successful weed. The next 

 year it sends up stems, blooms, matures seeds, and 

 dies. It is a biennial and its work is done. 



When it becomes the fate of the Thistle to be eaten, 

 but one creature seems competent to the task. The 

 following account is interesting: 



" Few experiences of frontier life are more amusing than to 

 watch a donkey's attack upon a bull thistle. He walks about it, 

 seeking for a favorable opening, projects his lip gingerly against 

 its spines and jerks back as he feels it prick. He surveys it pen- 

 sively for a moment or two, and then slowly raises his foot 

 and strikes it, pausing to note the effect of his blow. He then 

 perhaps strikes it from the other side and watches again. The 

 blows become rapid, and at length the stem is broken down and 

 thoroughly trampled, after which it is eaten to the last shred." 



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