26o The Great World's Farm 



well afford to have some of their leaves eaten; but if no 

 blossoms are left the plant dies without successors, and 

 this, in many cases at least, is not to be desired. Accord- 

 ingly we find that, as a rule, blossoms are avoided by all 

 animals, including even caterpillars, which would rather 

 die of hunger than eat the blossom of the very plant 

 whose leaves are their favorite food. Earwigs, indeed, 

 are less particular, and are given to biting dahlias; and 

 whatever wild rabbits may do, tame ones often begin with 

 the blossom of poppies and succory, as if it were a choice 

 morsel. 



Plants are protected against indiscriminate consumption 

 in a variety of ways: by being unpleasant in flavor or 

 poisonous, by the toughness and hardness of their foliage, 

 by prickles and by thorns, sometimes of formidable size, 

 and by hairs, whether sticky or stinging. 



Prickles and thorns are among the most efficient guards 

 a plant can have, and are often positively formidable 

 weapons of defense. One has only to think of the strong, 

 stout thorns of the rose, and the long, sharp ones of the 

 gooseberry-bush, to realize that it would be dangerous for 

 any animal to attempt to make a meal of them. The 

 sharp little prickles of the raspberry, too, must make it, 

 one would think, anything but pleasant eating to most 

 creatures, though donkeys will munch raspberry-canes as 

 well as thistles. 



But small thorns, sharply as they can wound, are a 

 mere trifle compared with those which protect many 

 foreign plants and trees until they have grown beyond the 

 reach of cattle. Even the tough hide of the elephant is 

 not proof against the "jungle nail," or "elephant thorn," 

 an acacia, whose lancet-like spines — which frequently 



