Plants are fine strategists. They use roots, stems, branches, bark, flowers, fruit and seed to make the most of local resources; they creatively compete against other species for those resources; they defend against worms and bugs and parasites whose thousand tiny bites might do them in. And when that is not enough, they find ways to move to new fields by making themselves nutritious or tasty enough to hitch a ride for their seed on the fuzz of a bee or in the gut of goat or jay, or else they make themselves beautiful or utilitarian enough to persuade mobile humans to carry them along on their wide journeys.
So it poses something of a puzzle when a homely, thorny tree with inedible fruit and unsuitable lumber spreads itself far and wide, well beyond its early natural home. Such mysteries are bound to conceal a good story, and so it is for an American tree native to a small strip of East Texas called the Osage Orange. This is the story of its remarkable life and travels.
