An Ode To Mushrooms
SHOUT OUT TO THE VAST MYCELIUM NETWORK THAT ENCHANTS AND ENLIGHTENS IN EQUAL MEASURE
Art by Julian Armijos
Fungi: A group of spore producing organisms that decay organic matter (molds, yeasts, mushrooms, and toadstools)
Running a trail I’ve seen a million times before, I’m splashing through puddles as my mind wanders, thinking about how the red-backed salamanders beneath the rocks must be joyous from yesterday’s much-needed rainfall. It’s a dewy fall morning, the kind that makes the air smell like an earth worm’s breath. Raindrops stick to spider webs on hemlock branches and drip off of the crusty lichen. Rounding a curve, a color catches my eye. I think that happens if you spend enough time wandering in the woods—you start to notice oddities. A lion’s mane (Hericium erinaceus) mushroom on a log. Long white teeth, cascading down like a waterfall. Finding an intact lion’s mane is any budding mycologist’s dream: easy to ID and nonetheless bizarre in appearance. A member of the tooth fungus family, this species spans across the northern United States and Canada, growing on decaying trees in late summer and fall. They’re also delectable when young! Lately they’ve been sold as some “super health powders” too? That’s pretty neat, but I just think they’re really cool.
It’s the little guys. I have always taken a liking to the little guys, as my mom would say. The pill bugs, slugs, mice, crawfish, moss, toads, and newts. The girl who picked up rocks and turned over logs. Maybe that’s what started my fascination with fungi. I made fairy houses as a kid, picturing pixies sipping tea or dancing underneath the mushroom gills. Maybe it’s my fascination with something so alien—so full of variety, color, and an amalgam of shapes. Something that can be sometimes delicious, sometimes poisonous, right here on Earth. I admire the fickleness of mushrooms. One day you can find a perfect chanterelle; the next, when you bring a friend along to check it out, that same chanterelle’s completely rotten and decaying on the ground. If it rains overnight, you could wake up to a front yard spattered with inky caps. Maybe I’m just an ecology nerd who has a strong desire to understand every little thing found on the forest floor. I have a soft spot for the scavengers and decomposers that we so often take for granted. Without fungi, we would be deep under a mountain of dead organic matter. I only started journaling my mushroom finds a few years ago, and for a while I kept it to myself. I’m not too sure why; I guess it was a quiet form of therapy for me. Then one mushroom ID book turned into four more mushroom ID books, and so began my mushroom Instagram account. Before I knew it, all the “can I eat this?” texts, accompanied by photos of sometimes-edible mushrooms from relatives and friends, started rolling in. Just like that, I became the mushroom girl.
Most of my favorite mushroom finds have been in College Woods at UNH. Some in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Some all the way across the globe in New Zealand. A lot in the Adirondacks. Even more right in my hometown of Rochester, New York. I’ve even found mushrooms on the urban trees of NYC. That’s what’s so great about being interested in mycology: it doesn’t have to be an expensive or extravagant hobby. You just have to walk outside and pay attention.
One of my most memorable finds was a forest of tall eastern yellow amanitas, which typically grow on oak and birch forests from July to October. I was off-trail for work, capturing wood mice, and I stepped away to use the bathroom. Next thing I knew, there they were: at least twenty scattered yellow amanitas (Amanita flavoconia). Pretty to look at, definitely not to eat.
Last month while working in Idaho I had another memorable mushroom encounter. The fan favorite, the cream of the crop, everyone’s greatest secret: the morel (genus Morchella). This secret morel spot was passed down from one Fish and Game Squirrel Technician to another. Needless to say, we had a delectable dinner that night. Important to note: False morels (Gyromitra esculenta) are one of the most commonly confused inedible mushrooms. These mushrooms can cause severe stomach issues (or even death) if eaten in large amounts.
Another poisonous mushroom, the Destroying Angel (or Death Cap) mushroom, genus Amanita, grows along the forest floor in New Hampshire. Tall and pure white, with a little skirt along the stem, this mushroom can cause severe life-threatening reactions. This species causes 90 percent of mushroom-poisoning deaths due to their generic look. While harmful to humans, I’ve witnessed tiny chipmunks – just a miniscule percentage of our size – munching on them as an afternoon snack.
In a wet climate like New Hampshire, full of mixed deciduous forests, mushroom lovers and foragers are spoiled with over 4,000 species of fungi (only 2,000 of which are identified). One can find turkey tails galore, amanitas, large chicken of the woods, dryad’s saddle, giant puffball mushrooms releasing spores, chanterelles, hoof mushrooms, earth tongues, bladder cups, russellas, jelly fungus, witch’s butter, inky caps, a lot of polypores, coral mushrooms, and so much more (I would like to name a mushroom one day—there seems to be no rules). While the mushroom’s fruiting body is what we like to admire (the reproductive part), the complex web of mycelium webbing beneath the ground is what makes a mushroom a mushroom. One cubic inch of soil can have over eight miles of mycelium. This mycorrhizal network allows for trees to communicate and share nutrients with other trees, keeping carbon exchange consistent while providing photosynthesized sugars to the mushroom. The largest “living organism” recorded is an Armillaria ostoyae, which was believed to be 110 feet (33.5 meters) long, and as ancient as 8,650 years old. Biologically, mushrooms are more closely related to humans and animals than plants, a fun fact for when you feel lonely. Find yourself a mushroom, they’re basically people!
There are over 11,000 mushrooms in the world, but that’s only a fraction of all the mushrooms believed to be out there. Mushrooms are opening up whole worlds of possibilities, with potential for even more. Indigenous cultures have harnessed the healing abilities of many fungi. Turkey tail and some psychedelic mushrooms have been used as new and effective forms of cancer treatment. Mushrooms and mycelium are being used as forms of sustainable packaging, as well as potential plastic decomposers. As the world faces inevitable anthropogenic changes to the surrounding environment, mushrooms are providing silver linings to the ecological crisis. Fungi are crucial to an ecosystem’s health. Personally, that encourages me to be a better steward of the environment myself.
I could go on forever about mushrooms and all the different things there are to learn about them, all the never-ending things I’m still learning about them. Interested in mycology too? I suggest grabbing a mushroom book (one of my favorites is the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Mushrooms, also known as “The Mushroom Bible”), grabbing a friend, putting on some boots, and heading out to the woods. Maybe you want to start foraging, or maybe you’re interested in making some spore prints, or maybe you’re just like me and you just want to gaze in awe. That’s what I usually end up doing—I tend to leave the forest how I found it. Sometimes I won’t see any mushrooms, but going into the woods without a plan is never a waste of time. There’s always something to leave me wondering. We really are incredibly lucky.
Follow my Instagram (shameless plug): @mycology_madness. You’ll see my mushroom finds, learn something new, see other people’s amazing mushroom finds, and can even send me photos of mushrooms you track down. I really enjoy seeing the mushies people in my life find! You can also see nature memes, toad photos, lichen pics, honorary slime molds, a variety of vegan food, learn different ways to love our earth, and get a glimpse into my life as a wildlife technician and grad student! No selling :)