Thomas Nuttall had a sharp opinion of a pointy plant.
Of thistle, this 19th-century English botanist opined that it is “one of the most terribly armed plants in the genus.”
While Nuttall’s words weaponized thistle, there were those who actually used this plant’s spines as armament. Native Seminole shot thistle bristles like darts from blow guns. North American native species, Cirsium horridulum, was their thistle of choice.
Other tribes also found function and, and even feast in this plant. Medicinally, infusions of this thistle’s leaves and root in whiskey provided an astringent and respiratory aid that would clear phlegm from the throat and lungs. Foragers insist that this plant has edible value, with buds that have been compared to globe artichokes (emphasis on chokes I suspect), young leaves and stems as potherb and in salads, and seeds and roots roasted. I definitely have piercing doubts about its consumption.
Horridulum refers not to the namer’s opinion of the plant, but is derived from the Latin base “horridus,” which means protruding, rugged or rough. Cirsium evolved from Greek “kirsos,” describing a swelling or a vein.
This particular species, also called bristly thistly, yellow thistle, horrid thistle and spiny thistle, is not the most often observed thistle. That honor goes to a nonnative thistle that hailed from Europe. Cirsium vulgare, also called common or bull thistle, has an always purple flower and is found in disturbed areas and fields.
Bristly thistle can also come in purple, pink, white or red, but the color I’ve mostly observed and admired on-Island is a stunning sunny yellow. This variety is reportedly somewhat scarce in New England and is officially endangered in New Hampshire and Connecticut, threatened in Rhode Island, and on a “watch list” in Massachusetts, meaning that it potentially could become endangered or threatened in the near future. Bristly thistle is absent in Vermont, and Maine’s population has been extirpated, so is no longer found in that state.
While some might not shed a tear (or a drop of blood) at the loss of this prickly plant, wildlife would detest its demise. Bristly thistle’s unique flower supports a plethora of pollinators, including butterflies, bees and hummingbirds. The plant also serves as a larval host for Painted Lady caterpillars.
Birds, including the color-matched American goldfinch, enjoy its seeds, and some stem-nesting bees build their nurseries in its stalk. Seeds tufts may also become part of a nest when birds collect it for their home construction.
Many of these creatures return a favor by crosspollinating this plant. Others, including rabbit and deer, refuse to touch it.
Even if some believe that bristly thistle is a rough around the edges, its bold yellow blooms in mid-to late June remind me to look beyond its coarse character. The same might be said for American clergyman and social reformer Henry Ward Beecher, who was remembered as much for his support of the abolition of slavery, love of God, and support for woman’s suffrage as for his philandering and adultery trial.
He, too, saw (and perhaps lived) the dichotomy of good and bad. Ultimately, he settled on seeing the best of this bristly beast, gushing: “The thistle is a prince. Let any man that has an eye for beauty take a view of the whole plant, and where will he see a more expressive grace and symmetry; and where is there a more kingly flower?”
Suzan Bellincampi is director of the Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary in Edgartown, and author of Martha’s Vineyard: A Field Guide to Island Nature and The Nature of Martha’s Vineyard.
This article appears in July 3, 2026.