Invasion of Thistles

Thistles laying claim to the land.

 When we moved here in 2008, the front acres rolled smoothly down from the house. Although the grasses were long when we arrived to stay, I can only remember one or two thistles blooming. However, I like the bees, butterflies, and finches that thistles attract and allowed a plant or two (maybe three) to go to seed some three years back. That was a big mistake.

By last year I had taken to uprooting thistles in self-defense, and then feeding them to the livestock. Surprisingly, the horses generally like them when cut to readily-chewable lengths, and even the goats will nosh upon them when proffered. In the pasture proper, the horses nibble many of the thistles to the ground, but choose to eat around plants that they will gladly tackle when I cut them into shorter lengths.



A bucket of thistles cut to create feed.

As busy as the overabundance of invading thistles may be, I can get lost in the pastures just watching (and sometimes photographing) the myriad of winged visitors supping on the flowers. Unfortunately, this year I find the spines to be challenging. They poke through leather gloves, sift their way down boot-tops, and ultimately find ways to burrow into my skin. That can be disappointing.

Next year I'll have to be more diligent in moving fences and rotating grazers through the thistle-infested patches. I know this because the number of plants gone to seed this year has surpassed prior years, and I would prefer to return to less-prickly pastures in the future.

Tiger swallowtail butterfly feeding on thistle flower.

When I was growing up in New England, my mother always let a few thistles flourish by our back porch. With some Scottish ancestors, our family revered the lavender-tufted flowerhead. What I find strange, though, is that the plants never became invasive there. I guess the close-cropped pastures here are more conducive to seeds sprouting than the thick lawn in my mother's yard. Here in Tennessee, thistles are a highly invasive species.

Mother never needed a goat to bail her out. I expect to need all of ours for some years to come.