Gleditsia seed pod II

Not so much the seed pod this time, as the seed itself, sitting in the pod.
The pods have grown quickly through the spring, turned from bright green to dull brown during the summer, and are now doing the autumny thing of falling off the tree and drying out, presumably in the hope of self-propagating.
I say presumably, because even the pods that are fully dried still provide a pretty robust and secure enclosure for the seeds. You can easily snap them in two with your hands (bare or otherwise), but you have to wrestle with them for a bit if you want to expose a seed sitting in situ in its little moulded bed. 
Even if birds, for example, were interested in eating the seeds, and thereby spreading them, getting access to them could present something of a problem. I guess they could wait for the wetter weather to compost the pods, and sprinkle the seeds about near the tree, but because the pods are so tough and fibrous, that would take an inordinately long time.
Grazing animals like cattle might be able to render assistance here, but for that to happen, they would really need to find the pods attractive in the first place. While I'm not a cattle-like creature, and so can't know for sure, this sort of pod doesn't strike me as a delicious, much-sought-after, tender, juicy morsel for any living thing.
I remain to be convinced that pods with this sort of structure would be the quickest or most effective method for distributing your seeds.
In the meantime, the seeds themselves get to luxuriate in their rather elegant accommodations, cradled in custom-fit beds lined with soft, downy insulating material, and water-tight, fibre-reinforced, insect-proof exterior cladding that would give them sustained protection in all but the most severe of inclemencies.
Given the development of their species as an ornamental tree for suburban gardens, the pods seem to be a remnant of extreme botanical over-engineering.