A friend suggested the “rain gods” must have read my recent story on the drought, the deleterious effect on our trees, and the importance of long, slow soaks to save them, because within days, rains came.
The rain was welcome, any amount of rain. It may not have been enough to reach and soak the roots of trees, however it was definitely enough to supercharge every dormant goathead. The crop is banging. Everywhere. There are clumps growing upward into shrubs, giant flat spreads, and I’m convinced there will be actual hedges if we get more rain.
Years ago I moved into a house in Marfa with an impressive crop of goatheads (who doesn’t?); this one was particularly challenging. I spent endless hours, plus a self-imposed 30-minute daily minimum, convinced that by pulling up the plants I could emerge the winner in this very serious battle.
Flip-flops were employed for passive collection. I kept a bucket by the back door for them. I would lean my head against the back of the house in the hot sun while I picked out each and every goathead, questioning all my life choices. One particularly discouraging hot afternoon as I squatted over a splayed out plant with a circumference of about 5 feet I swore in disgust and professed these plants must be good for something. I kicked off the flip-flops at the back door, marched inside and began my research.
Ground goatheads, the actual seedpods, have traditionally been used in Chinese herbal medicine to treat blood pressure, libido, kidneys, heart and circulation. I also saw a reference to companies that actually buy goatheads, although I was never able to find one willing to pay for my freshly harvested crop. My change of attitude was immediate. I started pulling up plants, pulling off the thorny bits, and hanging the rest of the plant to dry. These dried bundles hanging all over my kitchen became my newfound love, goathead leaf tea.
Much enthused by this new endeavor I borrowed a collection of teapots from friends and served the tea in my gallery that Chinati Weekend. While every other establishment was serving tequila shots and the like, I had tiny tea cups with a taste profile reminiscent of many herb teas of mild dirt and grass, with high notes of something quite other and hard to pin down.
One gentleman did inquire months later and ask if I had more of that tea that could be shipped to him, so there’s one convert. Goatheads, Tribulus terrestris or puncture vine, are not native to this desert. They arrived in the fleece of sheep from Greece, brought here as breeding stock, although they are pretty much worldwide at this point because they can survive in hostile climates, like here.
The fruit of the plant, the actual goatheads, can survive years in a dormant state, then spring back to life with the requisite amount of rain. That’s what we have going on here. They are definitely impressive right now, and now is the perfect time to pull up the plants, with their tiny yellow flowers, if you plan to make tea or just want them the hell out of your yard and existence.
If you do plan to make tea, make sure to gather your plants from areas that have never been treated with chemicals. Recently I discovered a medicinal herb company online that sells 20 “seeds,” meaning actually goatheads, in packets to plant in your yard.
One priceless comment: “I’m going to plant this in my neighbor’s yard who has kids.” Hahahhaha. Please don’t be that person, even though I admire their understanding of the consequences of what this company’s selling. Outsmarting goatheads makes for a great superpower. May we all be winners in this contest.