A landowner sows good seed in his field. His enemy sows bad seed. Which can happen, I suppose. I heard tell of a fraternity prank that involved "bad seed." On "Fraternity Row" at a southern university, there was a great rivalry between two of the houses. At one fraternity house, a new lawn was being prepared. Topsoil had been brought in. Seed had been laid down. But late one night, members of the rival fraternity threw kudzu seeds in the cultivated plot. Which may not mean much to you who have lived your life in the North. But a Southerner would understand the implications of such an act.

Kudzu was brought to this country in 1876 to decorate the Japanese pavilion at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. As an exotic import, it became popular as a shade plant, and was seen as a God-given solution to the soil-erosion problem, following the Great Depression. Between 1935 and 1942, government nurseries produced 84 million kudzu seedlings, planting them wherever they would grow. By 1943, there was a Kudzu Club of America with 20,000 members and an annual "Kudzu Queen."

So what's the problem? I'll tell you the problem. Kudzu is a vine with phenomenal growth. Twelve inches in 24 hours is not unusual. And 50 feet in a single growing season is well within the norm. People in the South have a saying: "If you're gonna plant kudzu, drop it and run." Which explains why some have called it "the vine that ate the South." It can cover anything and choke everything. It can twine itself around fruit trees until it kills the entire orchard. It can strip the gears of farm machinery. And railroad engineers have even accused it of causing trains to slip off the tracks. Which is why the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) eventually demoted kudzu to "weed status" ... with the definition of a weed being "any plant that does more harm than good."