My very favorite plant (don’t tell the others) is tramp’s trouble. I would love this weedy, resilient vine for its name alone regardless of spiny prickles and invasive tendencies. I’ve always been fond of anything tramp-related or tramp-adjacent. You might ask, “Autumn, which kind of tramp are you talking about here – tramp stamp-tramps or hobo-tramps?” And I’d say, “Yes.”

I appreciate all tramps, but I have a special fondness for the archetypal vagabond, living on the fringes of society according to their own rules. Natty Gann was my childhood hero, and I often thought I’d have been happier riding the rails and eating beans out of a tin can than sitting in a classroom doing math. I have most certainly been called a tramp, and to be fair, I have all intentions of reverting to my semi-nomadic sea tramp lifestyle aboard a boat with Jack ASAP.

Given that, tramp’s trouble might be an odd affinity. But tramps and tramp’s trouble have a lot in common. Tramp’s trouble is one of those plants that thrives in disturbed earth, thereby protecting areas vulnerable to soil erosion and nutrient-depletion. It acts as a natural remedy for ecological wounds, stabilizing areas under environmental stress. The vine’s tenacious, thorny nature doesn’t just protect damaged soil; it provides a safe haven for birds and other small creatures living in the often-impoverished ecotone between town and country.

Likewise, tramp culture – both kinds – provides protection through cooperation among vulnerable populations often forced (rather than choosing) to live on the outskirts of society. Take a look at a few of the norms established by the Hobo Ethical Code at the 1889 Hobo National Convention to get a sense of what I mean:

  • Decide your own life; don’t let another person run or rule you.
  • Don’t take advantage of someone who is in a vulnerable situation, locals or other hobos.
  • Do not allow yourself to become a stupid drunk and set a bad example for locals’ treatment of other hobos.
  • Always respect nature, do not leave garbage where you are jungling.
  • If in a community jungle, always pitch in and help.
  • Help all runaway children, and try to induce them to return home.
  • Help your fellow hobos whenever and wherever needed, you may need their help someday.

The Hobo Conference in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 1923. Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images

I can’t help thinking that a tramp’s trouble is what makes them capable of crafting a code of conduct that outshines most national constitutions in terms of humanity and empathy. Could it be that people who write and enact most governmental laws have never been hungry, cold, afraid, wet through with rain, dependent on the kindness of others? Tramps have. All of them. And that makes them tougher, but it also makes them gentler sometimes, and I find that complexity appealing in a person, and in a plant.

It’s complicated.

“Born and bred in the briar patch, that’s me,” laughed Brer Rabbit. “I told you not to throw me there. In all the world, that’s the place I love best!”

Both tramps and tramp’s trouble are frequently reviled, and people invest lots of energy in weeding them out, as if the unwashed and unwelcome are the cause of society’s ills not the consequence of them. A healthy ecosystem can support a wide variety of plants and people, not just our favorites or the most carefully cultivated. Tramp’s trouble overcomes adversity by thriving in the badlands where dainty botanical aristocrats dare not tread (not unlike crones in fairy tales, trickster rabbits in folk tales, and outlaw heroes in medieval legends). In doing so, they transform the scraped-raw edges of society into a refuge for the most vulnerable, preventing the passage of predators with their thorny thickets and redistributing nutrients into looted soil, a regular Robin Hood of the modern roadside.

But wait, there’s more!

If you’re interested in more tramp-related writing (and who isn’t?), read “Tramp Life” by my friend Jessi Waugh at her blog reader-writer.com. Jessi is both an appealing person and a talented writer – a winning combination if there ever was one. In “Tramp Life,” she shares her thoughts on family camping trips and nomadic lifestyles.

I also recently stumbled upon Trampset, a literary journal for tramps, and it looks like they’ll be open for submissions on August 1, 2023. If you’re a tramp looking for a home for your writing, Trampset publishes fiction, nonfiction, and poetry on a rolling basis.

Botanical Information

Scientific Name: Smilax bona-nox

Folk Names: Tramp’s Trouble, Saw Greenbrier, Catbrier

Family: Smilacaceae

Habitat and Distribution: Smilax bona-nox is a climbing vine that is native to the southeastern United States, particularly found in regions with warm temperate to subtropical climates. It can be found in various habitats, including forests, thickets, and disturbed areas.

Cultural Uses: The root of Smilax species, including Smilax bona-nox, has a long history of traditional uses by indigenous peoples and herbalists, and is used in traditional medicine for its potential diuretic, anti-inflammatory, and blood-cleansing properties. The young shoots of the vine are edible and can be cooked or consumed raw.

References & Inspiration

Botkin, Benjamin Albert. A Treasury of Southern Folklore: Stories, Ballads, Traditions, and Folkways of the People of the South. Bonanza Books, 1980.

Hemenway, Toby. Gaia’s Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture. Chelsea Green Publishing: Vermont, 2009.

“The Hobo Ethical Code of 1889: 15 Rules for Living a Self-Reliant, Honest & Compassionate Life.” Open Culture.

Keen, Maurice. The Outlaws of Medieval Legend. University of Toronto Press: Toronto, 1977.

“Smilax bona-nox.” North Carolina Extension Gardener Plant Toolbox.

Stoker, Bram. “The American ‘Tramp’ Question and the Old English Vagrancy Laws.” The North American Review, Vol. 190, No. 648 (Nov., 1909), pp. 605-614 (10 pages).

The moon casts an eerie glow over the tangled hump of tramp’s trouble along the edge of the long-since-abandoned highway. A lone wanderer hunted by an unseen predator hides in the thicket. Rustling through the vine’s thorny tunnels, they enter a strange, dark realm within the tendrils. Write a story that explores the unsettling connection between tramp’s trouble and the ethereal underground it guards, where redemption and damnation lie entwined amidst its dark foliage.