Pigweed Memories

Piggie and his friends and family lived in a big field.  It was their whole world.  None of them could see all the way across.  It was huge. Since they weren't explorers, they would never know precisely how vast their world was. Piggie had been living in this field for several generations. He had seen a lot of changes since he was only a seed. 

There were thousands of his brothers and sister, aunts and uncles, and cousins who stayed in the same field. He had a lot of big, strong brothers but he was the largest, strongest, smartest pigweed in the field. 

He was very fond of his family. They looked to him for advice. He had other friends too. He especially liked Velvet. Piggie wished he and Velvet could get married so he could touch her soft, heart-shaped leaves all the time, but his family had vetoed the idea. That didn't stop him from hoping some of his pollen drifted her way. 

Actually, the original Piggie had passed away several summers ago. He had been the lone survivor of a chemical warfare attack. What doesn't kill you makes you strong. Right? Like a sentinel, he had grown tall and proud in the midst of soybeans. Before he died of a killing frost, he stored up all his memories in his pollen and seeds to teach his children. 

Every year Piggie learned something from his parents who had lived the season before. It was imperative he do so. When the cold came, he would drop his seeds on the ground and hope the knowledge saved in them increased from his experiences. 

Not all of the species living in his field were friends of his. He and Sticker weren't what you would call friendly. Sticker, in his quiet way, did a great service for Piggie. Rabbit hated Sticker with a passion. They were mortal enemies. Sticker stayed close to Piggie and spread a carpet next to him. Rabbit couldn't nibble on Piggie's tender parts without getting sharp barbs in his feet and fur. Since Piggie appreciated the help, he let his shadow rest on Sticker for part of the day so he wouldn't get too hot. It was an equitable arrangement.

The other plants with whom Piggie shared the field were snobs. He didn't like them at all. They must have been in the military because they acted like straight rows were the most important thing in the world. And they were so needy. They needed a lot of food and water. Piggie could survive on a fraction of what they required.  They were stupid and lazy as well. They only produced a handful of seeds, and none of them remembered a thing their parents had taught them when they sprouted the next spring.

Piggie and his family of seeds had grown into a lovely green carpet. As they grew, they got reacquainted. Many were newcomers who had drifted in from other worlds. Not all of them had the same knowledge as Piggie and his family. They promised to teach the newcomers all they could.

One day they noticed a strange noise. It rapidly grew nearer and louder.

"What is it, Piggie? Where is that noise coming from?"

Piggie and most of his family knew at once what the noise meant. It happened every summer, sometimes two or three times. Every year they learned a better strategy for coping. Deep in Piggie's psyche lurked a memory of a huge iron monster with sharp rolling blades sweeping through the field and killing practically everyone who hadn't cozied up to one of the soldier plants in their straight rows. There was little to learn or pass on when that happened. His great-great-great-great-great-grandfather had barely survived. Piggie, however, knew a method to conquer the threat from the sky.

"Spread the word.  Hold your breath and close your eyes until I tell you it is safe. This is important. Do what I say. Hurry, there's not much time. Pass the word."

Suddenly, a noisy metal bird swooped down. It coughed nasty smelling mist that drifted down and covered Piggie's head. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself not to breathe. Around him, he could hear other plants crying and coughing. He also heard the snobbish soybean plants laughing at them.
 

Most of the plants didn't have the stamina he had developed. Before the day was over, many pleaded with him for aid. Wisely, he did not answer. He would not speak until it was safe. The pampered soybean plants were jeering at them now. 

The noxious odor faded but Piggie's skin burned and he had trouble thinking. It took a great effort for him to whisper instructions to the other plants. "Play 'possum. Pretend you are dead. Just let your head droop over. Let your arms hang down. Go to sleep."

After a few days, Piggie began to feel much better, so he straightened up and looked around. A sad sight greeted him. Everyone in the field was sunburned. Well, everyone except the soybeans. A few of them appeared sickly, but for the most part, they were unfazed by the the poisonous fumes. His family was another story. Their beautiful green leaves and skin had turned yellow. The ones who hadn't obeyed his instructions were already turning brown. In a few days, they would be brittle. Their seeds were lost. His friend Velvet and Sticker were also dead. Piggie could see a few thorns on Stickers dead vines. Even in death, Sticker would keep Rabbit away from him. 

"How bad is it?" Piggie asked. Across the field, reports trickled back to him. Too many had ignored his warning. They were gone, along with a new generation of seeds. There was good news also. More had survived than last year. 

Soon Piggie and the survivors had outgrown the soybeans. The next time the big yellow bird dropped poison on them, they didn't even hold their breath for more than a few hours. The mist burned, but they didn't get sick and turn yellow. 

When the autumn winds came, Piggie and his family said goodbye to their seeds and watched them scatter. The children born from those seeds would carry the memory of this growing season and know how to act next summer. Their numbers were increasing exponentially. Piggie hoped the pigweed species in neighboring corn and soybean fields had learned something as well. Soon, the breezes would spread the smart seeds further away where they could teach new youngsters.

As the cold arrived, Piggie and his family told one another goodbye. "See you next spring," they said, although they knew it would be their children who would sprout to learn more lessons. Those children would remember their parents.

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Although the above is meant to be humorous, herbicide-resistant weeds aren't. I hope you weren't rooting for Piggie. Some weeds have become so tolerant to herbicide, the application only makes them mad for a few days. Then they grow back with a vengeance.

Here is a link to a comprehensive site, if you want to know more about it.

http://weedscience.org/