This winter I have seen plenty of mushrooms, but they never seem to make it to the frying pan. Trouble is, I’ve been doing most of my hunting in the realm of dreams. The same thing happens every time – as I float through the bizarre and befuddling dreamscape, out of nowhere I find myself in a hemlock forest heavy with honeys, or a beech grove laden with lion’s mane. I have hit the motherload, and I gleefully reach for my forager’s knife. But before I can even slice into the first fungus, I am overwhelmed with doubt, and my treasure trove begins to feel tenuous.
Suddenly I have switched from undoubting dreamer to skeptical dream analyst. “Wasn’t I just skiing yesterday?” I ask myself. And then, in that fleeting moment of lucidness, I am jolted awake, as the icy air in my barely heated bedroom reminds me why the mushrooms are nowhere to be found.
Even in a dream, when we find an epic patch of mushrooms, our first instinct is to reach for our knife. This is not about greed – it is about gleefulness. Finding a pair of porcini or a clump of chicken of the woods is exciting, but have you ever found (as I have) acres of black trumpets, so densely packed that it is hard not to crush twenty trumpets with your every step? If you forage for long enough, one day you will find yourself in the holy grail of mushrooms, a patch so endless and glorious that it surpasses what even your most tantalizing dreams can conjure.
When you find a patch like this, you will be tickled with delight and disbelief. There is nothing more life affirming and awe inspiring than finding, among the leaf litter and squirrel-strewn acorns, a carpet of pristine, gourmet mushrooms. In this rare state of reverie, you may well forget all rules you have learned about sustainable harvest, as you bend down and begin plucking by the handful. As you delight in the Earth’s cornucopian abundance, your basket will quickly fill itself.
If you are a commercial picker, in a moment like this money really does grow on (or, more accurately, out of) trees, and there is an incentive to harvest with abandon. But even if you are a recreational picker and steadfast tree hugger, you may find yourself picking more than your rightful share and contributing to what ecologist Garrett Hardin called the “tragedy of the commons.”
Even though some patches may feel inexhaustible when they are fruiting in all their glory, last summer was a reminder that mushrooms are not always so plentiful. As climate change, habitat loss, and overharvesting alter the fabric of the region’s mushroom populations, it behooves us as foragers to harvest responsibly. For most species this means never harvesting more than half of a patch, and favoring more mature specimens that have already released their spores. Keep in mind that the visible mushroom is only a fruiting body; the mycelium that threads its way through leaves, soil, roots, and downed trunks is the organism itself. We are not killing the mycelium when we carefully harvest a mushroom, but we are removing a spore-bearing fruit.
I use even stricter harvesting guidelines for mycorrhizal species such as porcini, chanterelles, and matsutake. These elusive and expensive species are very challenging to cultivate, as they depend on a delicate ecological balance and play an integral role in the health of the forest ecosystem. Japanese buyers pay obscene rates for grade A matsutake buttons, putting immense pressure on Northwestern populations and incentivizing efficient but destructive harvesting methods such as raking vast swaths of ground.
Of course, every now and then even the most prudent forager enjoys a hearty harvest. Fall is the time – lion’s mane, chicken of the woods, and maitake are often so abundant that we can harvest only a third of a patch and still have plenty to share with friends or preserve. If you want a supply to last your family through the winter, try the parasitic honey mushroom, nemesis of forester’s throughout the country. This prolific tree pathogen may be slightly slimy, but once you learn to safely ID it your pantry will never be empty again!
The parasitic honey mushroom!
Thoughtful, as always. I will try to be mindful should I ever come across ACRES of chanterelles, and even more so when the bounty is modest.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
This can not be expressed quite often enough.
Dreams are the “royal road to the unconscious” and are strongly influenced by day residue (events during the day or preceding days). Skiing at first glance may appear to have nothing to do with mushrooms but a deeper look will probably reveal that under the snow the mycelium is spreading. Just as the fantasies of foraging spread through the unconscious. The last time I was on a ski lift in the high peaks of the Adirondacks I could not keep my eyes off the birch trees as I was scanning for Chaga. For us foragers the mother load fantasy is ever present. Dreams protect sleep from anxious fantasies through wish fulfillment in the form of dreams.
Pleasant dreams to all fellow foragers.
Sal
Gluttonforlife, Thanks for your comment. You are right – though I focus here on the temptation of big patches, it is even more important to leave modest patches that are still establishing themselves in tact.
George, I am happy you resonated with the article.
Sal, Thank you for sharing your insights about dreams. I can’t get my eyes off of chaga when I am skiing, either. The mycelium is ever-present, even in the winter!
Excellent. Looking forward to the spring, when I assume there will be more regular postings. Great to have a mushroom blog where there is expert info *and* eloquent writing.
I have a question on morels regarding your suggestion of picking only specimens that have released their spores (it’s something I would like to practice): Is there a way in the field of telling which morels have already released? In some cases it’s obvious, but usually this is when the mushrooms are beyond picking! But are there tell-tale signs with fresh specimens, or does one have to go on the not (I don’t think) very reliable indicator of size?
Kent, Thank you for your comment. It is hard to describe how to tell when a morel has released its spores, since it doesn’t have a partial veil that opens up or a cap that fundamentally changes shape as it grows as many other mushrooms do. You are right that it is not about size, since some mature morels are small and some juveniles can be large. Pay attention to the shape of the folds and wrinkles of specimens at varying stages of maturity and you will develop an intuition for it. Ideally you want to pick a morel that has already released most of its spores, but is still releasing some spores. Many morels release spores over a several day period. By the time a specimen is completely done releasing spores, it is often already starting to get past the ideal eating stage, as you suggest.
I’m going to play devil’s advocate for a moment. Why spare so many? Or any? Even the most voracious harvester is never going to get them all, and each mushroom contains millions of spores. Toting them around in your bag spreads them all over the forest. And most prolific hunting grounds have well-established mycelium, so eating their fruit: not so bad.
Setting raking and the like aside, and focusing just on the picking of fruit bodies, why do we have this belief that taking most of the mushrooms is bad for them? Where does it come from? How did you learn it? Very curious about these questions as the research I’ve seen is ambivalent on the question, and the commercial grounds I know of are going strong after many decades of picking (yearly variation aside).
Dylan, You raise some good questions. Overall, I think foraging does more good than bad in the 21st century. Compared to the other environmental impacts we have, from driving to flying, the impact of foraging is quite negligible. Moreover, foraging allows us to connect with the natural world and increases our appreciation for the bounty provided by nature – this, in turn, could foster an increase in environmental stewardship in our overall lifestyles and political decisions. Foraging also makes us acutely aware of the changes and cycles of the natural world, which can only be a good thing in a time of widespread environmental changes that can be easy to ignore or brush aside. As I mention in the article, mushrooms are only fruit bodies, and picking a mushroom is less destructive than uprooting a tree. You are right that research is inconclusive on the subject, but anecdotally, many foragers who have been at it for decades (such as Les and Nova Kim in VT) are noticing significant decreases in mushroom populations. In the absence of conclusive research, it behooves us to act prudently. In remote areas where there are few other foragers, it might be fine to harvest 90% of a patch. However, especially in the Northwest, foragers are putting enormous pressure on mushroom populations, and even resilient mycelium can die in the face of climate shifts and excessive logging. I think it is prudent to leave some mushrooms in the ground to reproduce. Especially if we (or several foragers collectively) harvest an entire patch before the mushrooms reach maturity, we are potentially robbing them of an opportunity to distribute their spores. Furthermore, not everyone uses a porous harvesting basket, so there is no guarantee that we are always spreading their spores as we harvest. The mushroom world is very mysterious and poorly understood. So, while I don’t have conclusive data, I would prefer to be prudent in my harvest, especially of mycorrhizal species.
Thanks for that well-thought response. It makes good sense! It makes me wonder about two things. The first is just, why do you think leaving some to reproduce is especially critical with mycorrhizal species?
The second, I suppose comes from my not being totally clear on the function of the spores. If there is already an established mycelial bed, do they have an importance to the existing organism? Or are they more for dispersal into new territory? I guess that depends on the species and how extensive its mycelium is, but in general I just realized I have no idea how/if spores interact with the existing plant body! Any thoughts/info on that?
Dylan, To answer your first question, I am particularly careful to leave some to reproduce with mycorrhizal species because 1) they play an important role in the health of forest plants/trees; 2) they have a very specific ecological niche and depend on a delicate balance of climate, plant host, soils, etc., which is why most are nearly impossible to cultivate; 3) many of the most coveted and gourmet species are mycorrhizal, putting increased pressure on populations. To answer your second question, the science of mycology is still developing and mushrooms are mysterious in many ways, but there is no evidence that spores help keep the mycelium alive. An existing mycelial mat can thrive without new spores. As you suggest, spores are essential for moving into new territory as well as for ensuring genetic diversity, which is essential for resilience of the species, especially in the face of climate change. A mycelial mat remains genetically identical until new spores germinate and start a new mat. Science’s understanding of the way different mycelial mats of the same (or different) species interact is still incomplete.
Can you tell me when you think would be a good time to start looking for morels in West Virginia in Mingo Co. & in Tucker Co.?My family and I love to go looking even my grandchildren love them and looking for them.We are new to finding them and would appreciate any help you could give us.Thank you for your blog it is a great help to many people.
Hi Linda, I am not too familiar with West Virginia’s fruiting patterns. Here is Vermont morels usually start fruiting in early to mid May; I imagine in WV you should start looking about a month earlier. Happy hunting!
My philosophy and approach is to gather and spread mycorrhizal mushroom species as much as possible. (I am conversely very careful not to spread honey mushrooms.) One of my favorite ways to do this is to ride down dirt roads with mature mushrooms bouncing a long in the basket of my bike. I always remove and spread the pores of tasty Boletes. My favorite way to spread bolete pores is to throw small pieces of them out the window of a car, when I’m traveling as a passenger down back roads. When I hike I bring mycorrhizal mushrooms with me to new habitats. I also have had great success spreading mulch loving mushrooms such as blewits. I often think that the mushrooms are grateful for my assistance, and return the favor by making themselves more available to being found.
Arena, Your approach sounds rewarding and productive, and I’m sure the mushrooms appreciate your help! In this article from a couple years back (http://themushroomforager.com/2011/06/08/leccinums-insipid-or-inspiring/), I describe the pleasure of playing Johnny Appleseed and flinging bolete pores in every direction in the forest. I’ve never tried the bicycle or car window approach though – clever! I am curious to learn more about your success transplanting blewits. Have you done this propagation sexually (ie flinging pieces containing spores) or asexually (ie cloning stem butts with the fuzzy mycelium attached at the base, allowing the mycelium to spread into new mulch)?