A bur (also spelled burr) is a seed or dry fruit or infructescence that has hooks or teeth.
Some other forms of diaspores, such as the stems of certain species of cactus also are covered with thorns and may function as burs.
Bur-bearing plants such as Xanthium species are often single-stemmed when growing in dense groups, but branch and spread when growing singly.
Burs catch on the fur of passing animals or the clothing of people. The hooks or teeth generally cause irritation, and some species commonly cause gross injury to animals, or expensive damage to clothing or to vehicle tires.
Burs serve the plants that bear them in two main ways.
Most epizoochorous burs attach to hair on the body or legs of the host animal, but a special class of epizoochorous bur is known as the trample-bur (or trample-burr). Several species of Tribulus, Harpagophytum, and Grielum produce fruit in the form of trample-burs. As the name suggests, they attach themselves to the animal when trampled. They may hook onto the legs of animals as the large hooks of Harpagophytum do, sometimes causing serious injury, but sometimes hooking onto the leg of say, an ostrich, apparently without causing discomfort. It also might penetrate a hoof or foot pad or the tyre of a vehicle, only to be shed after being carried for a considerable time and distance; most Tribulus and Grielum species are specialised for such attachment, variously being flat, but with upward-directed spikes as in say, Grielum humifusum, or shaped like a caltrop as in some species of Tribulus that have achieved the status of cosmopolitan weeds by sticking to the tyres of aircraft.
Buré is a commune in the Orne department in northwestern France.
Bur, Burs or BUR may refer to:
Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision, and I followed with a will
'Til next I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill
It being on the 23rd of June, the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters and friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold came, their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see me neighbors, to see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning gray
But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
Ah, he used to mend me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She's as white as any lily, gentle as a dove
And she threw her arms around me saying, "Johnny, I love you still"
As she's Nell the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamed I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
Ah Johnny, you're only jokin', as many's the time before
Then the cock, he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill