DaveR, a bunch of us used to lease a ranch some 15 miles north of Uvalde, Texas. I always said that we didn't walk and hunt; we danced. In order to avoid all that thorny stuff, you wiggle your hips and twist your body as you go. By the end of the deer season, you can be up maybe five or ten pounds from all the good eats of that time of year, but be about two inches smaller in the waist from the jazzercise.
Out here around Terlingua, most of the bad stuff sticks you just above your boot tops--I guess it grows that way on purpose. Ain't sure whose purpose, but it sure ain't mine. And catclaw! Ye Gods and little fishes! It's the same thing as the African "Wait a bit" thorn bush. No fun at all.
I was talking to some blue quail one day; had a rock roll under my foot, and fell backwards into a catclaw bush. It took me about five minutes to get me loose and out of my jacket, and another ten minutes to persuade the danged bush to let me have my jacket back!
The quail left.
, Art