A bur (also spelled burr) is a seed or dry fruit or infructescence in which the seeds bear hooks or teeth which attach themselves to the fur of passing animals or the clothing of people. The hooks or teeth can be irritants and very hard to remove from clothing, such as wool or cotton. The bur of burdock was the inspiration for Velcro. – Wikipedia
The bush probably stretched the width of a lot and was easily 1500 cubic feet in volume. There was a mini-tunnel running through the bush with an opening entrance on the right hand side of the bush. That opening was also the side of the bush that had the densest population of burrs and also represented, in spring and summer, a popular haven in which the neighborhood bees and wasps could hang out.
Burs have hook-like structures that attach the seed or fruiting body to clothing, hair, and in particular, wool, or occasionally feathers. Such plants rely largely on living agents to disperse their seeds. – Wikipedia
In addition to sponging off the 53% that actually handled the work of transporting its seeds, this massive bush also laid some collateral damage in our ‘hood – those burrs were nasty little weapons in the right (or wrong) hands of the Alley kids.
The primary threat of course came when somebody threw one of those bad boys at your head – and the burr lodged in your hair. We were all sporting pretty long ‘dos in the 70s, so the attacker had quite a bit of surface area with which to work.
If a direct hit was made, it was almost impossible to self-dislodge the burr without making matters worse. You could end up with a clump in a New York minute. As counter-intuitive as it seems, your best approach was to resist the urge to pull it out and instead find a trusted friend or a family member to carefully triage and treat. The hooks could also do some damage to your eyes in the event the attacker hadn’t properly calibrated the hair shot.
The only thing that stops a bad kid with a burr is a good kid with a burr. - Wayne LaPierre
Burr head shots got old pretty quickly. The triggers for a number of true squabbles in our hood were burrs thrown into or pushed into the hair of the victim. Naturally, a neighborhood code of ethics evolved regarding the burrs. Anything below the neck was fair game – but keep them out of the hair and away from the eyes.
Of course it was inevitable that a burr ball would be developed – a collection of a dozen or more burrs sculpted into an oval. The mass and weight of the burr ball could cut through those Central PA summer breezes and could sting if it hit bare skin. I was the unintended victim in 1974 of a burr ball that was thrown at high speed from close range – it burrowed into me below the belt. It rattled the change around a little bit, so to speak, but I was none the worse for wear.
Since the burr bush was slightly downhill from the Main Alley Wiffle Ball Field, care also had to be taken to not let a foul ball or wild pitch run into that opening. It could be quite dicey trying to extract the ball without incurring some entry/exit wounds from the “burrs and the bees” on the round trip.
