June 1, 2015. I learned two new things today!

Well … three actually, for a nice biology professor on campus, Dr. William Brown, sent me a link to an amber snail that’s in danger of becoming extinct. Sure looks like mine but mine seems to be thriving quite nicely in my gardens.

Cornell answered my query quite quickly: yes, a male downy has a single red bar across the back of his head and, while a male hairy might, finding him with a dividing line through the red (so it appears as two red dots) is more common. I’ve been asking for so long and, really, nobody puts pictures of the back of a bird’s head on the Internet. Now I know what I have isn’t so special after all.

Taking my compost out was truly an “aha!” moment, for the nasty little plant I’ve been searching for (I remembered where they were last year) seemed to have sprouted a new foot overnight. And, truly surprising, it’s my pretty little forget-me-not.

Only it isn’t.

What I’ve been looking at (and did describe and use in another column – well, I will. I have only the first sentence – look for it in 2016) is reasonably similar (and, sorry, book, my plants definitely have blue and a few pink flowers; they aren’t “whitish” at all) to the f-m-n. But it is actually Virginia Stickseed (a perfect name) or it may be called Beggar’s Lice, Hackelia virginiana for you Latin lovers.

I’ve been aware of course of the plants with burs and wish the dogs understood them better – before, not after. Stickseed (as yet unidentified) didn’t become a problem until 2014 when I proudly built a large composer (it said it would require two; it didn’t) and found myself “attacked” every time I carried out more vegetable and fruit leavings for my new toy.

My slacks were covered in green little – well, they call them “fruit,” a single tiny round green glob on a comparatively long stem with countless hairs on all sides. Actually, Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide describes this pest as “fruit with a prickly bur that clings to clothing.” Got it!

The flower, as described, is pretty: five regular petals in whatever color you want to call it on a stem covered in fine hair that can pop up to 4 feet tall once the flowers are gone. The leaves (alternate) can get to be up to 8 inches in length and are lance-shaped. It’s a lovely plant – very graceful as pictured in Newcomb until …

Checking the Internet I discovered “gobotany” doesn’t think very highly of our Mr. Newcomb. He claims Virginia stickseed is found in dry woods. Internet says moist deciduous forests. Susan (what do I know?) says absolutely moist and in an area which would get very little sunlight even if it shone. And the I-net says the flowers are “blue to purple.” I said pink but will grant there’s a tiny difference in this case.

And, I-net, “the fruit is dry but does not split open when ripe.” That might almost be an advantage – or would it mean 4 or 5 stick-’ems where one (of hundreds) now suffices?

Turns out even this pestiferous plant had fans, for the Cherokee valued it as herbal medicine. The roots were crushed and mixed with bear oil (which I imagine is a bit difficult to secure these days) to treat skin cancer. The plant could also be brewed to treat kidney problems. Or, if your kidneys were fine, it could be used to improve memory. Looking for a love charm? This is the plant.

Love? Kidneys? Cancer? I don’t know – I think I’ll still yank those pretty little flowers next spring.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. “Her Reason for Being” was published in 2008 with “Love in Three Acts” appearing in 2014. Copies are available at the Cassadaga ShurFine and Papaya Arts on the Boardwalk in Dunkirk. Information on all the Musings, the books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.