The Trouble with Tumbles
By Aaron Andrade
It’s high noon. Across the way is Old Man Buchanan, staring down his opponent Jesse "The Kid" . Above comes down the mighty screech of an eagle, waiting to pick at the loser. As the two men stare each other down, several Russian Thistles sweep across town, causing a calamity in both their farms. These men must now come together to face the greatest enemy of their time, tumbleweeds!
Hearing this, you might think to yourself, “now what problems could these prickly bushes possibly pose? Why should I be worked up over a little weed?” But we can not shrug off this simple-looking shrub. Instead, let us take a better look at the troubles with tumbles.
For starters, there is no single tumbleweed species. “Tumbleweed” is rather a group of similar species, this also includes species outside of the family that also use wind for transportation. For specificity, we will focus on members of the Salsola genus, also known as ‘Saltwort’ for its hardiness in arid environments. Salsolas are a group of different plant species that share a common ancestor, like how cousins come from the same grandparent.
According to studies conducted by The University of Colorado Boulder, North America has several known species of Salsola that dominate the continent. California even has a couple of species distinct to the region. However, tumbleweeds have only meandered into town less than two centuries ago, a remarkably short time to spread across an entire continent and make new species.
At first, they traveled across the sea contaminating carts of flaxseed; historians at The Natural History Museum date the introduction of tumbleweeds to America in 1870. At this time, growing enough food to feed the newly developed nation was vital, nearly everyone had to assume the job of farmer. Departments like that of Agriculture were formed to help solve these issues.
The DOA was first assigned the task of writing how best to farm for the homesteaders and collecting information on the continent. All was normal until one day in 1870, the DOA received a letter that said, as GCP Grey put it, “Heeey there’s this a tumblin’ weed giving us some trouble. Could you come take a gander?” And so she went down to find South Dakota infested, her grounds freshly cultivated for homesteading, where the tumbleweeds grow best.
As they grew, they sucked vital nutrients out of the grounds necessary for crops, and over time it is estimated that 20% of the harvest was lost due to the weeds. Over the years, there were simply far too many tumbleweeds, for far too few people, and by the turn of the century, the entire MidWest interior was covered in tumbles. For a while, the American mountains served as a barrier until the newly established train lines served as a tumble line, allowing them to entrench themselves in every free pocket of land.
The real danger of tumbleweeds lies within its structure. When first looking at a tumble-storm, it may look like a breeze of twigs, but this breeze stings! A mature Russian Thistle is all thorns from stem to end, thorns that break off easily into a horse’s skin or yours to fester.
They are rubbery, yet stick together easily to form large, dry piles with just enough density within their branches for air to still seep through; perfect fuel for fires. At the time, the only tech to stop a fire was fire breaks: wide, vitally empty strips of land that fire cannot cross. However, these are perfect spaces for tumbles to congregate, and even if kept clear, fires suck in the cold air around them and spew hot air out. This transformed the tumbles into fireballs, spreading the fires over the breaks.
To eradicate the tumbles, it would take the cooperation of every state, along with our North and Southern neighbors. Even then, every single tumble both new and old, must be eradicated to prevent infection: An impossible task. So, to this day, tumbleweeds continue to reign over the continent, making us forget that there was a time before their existence.