Unexpected Lion’s Mane

I spot a single porcini and veer off-trail on impulse, following the narrow spine of a coniferous ridge along an undefined path blazed by deer. The landscape is steep and unforgiving, and the fungi dwindle as I hit higher and drier ground. Wild turkeys disperse into the trees as I reach the crest of the hill, feeling duped and sidetracked by the lone porcini.

As I sit down on a stone to catch my breath, I see the forest from a new angle. Right in front of my face, but well concealed on the underside of a fallen tree, a toothy blob catches my eye. I spring up from the stone – back in the game, again in my element. Sure enough, it’s a hearty edible Hericium coralloides, accompanied by a second, heftier specimen on the other side of the log.

I am reminded of early August, when pausing along a ledge revealed a cluster of black trumpets that guarded a vast, rambling patch. Just one find is enough to prime perception, shifting the mushroom hunter’s confidence and enabling a sharper awareness and sense of expectancy.

I eagerly trudge on, now checking for mushrooms with increased fervor, yet I see nothing for the next twenty minutes. My stomach tells me it’s time to head home and cook up a medley of Hericium mushrooms. But before turning back, I sit down on a mossy log for a water break. Once again, just an arm’s length away, I see a perfect pompom of Hericium – this time H. americanum, another delicious and distinctive toothed mushroom. Lion’s mane often fruits at eye level or higher, but today I am finding the moist, lower layer of downed logs to be most productive.

Emboldened by my recent success with resting and discovering lion’s mane, I test my luck, scurrying a few more yards down the trail and sitting down upon the first plush looking hardwood log I see. This time, though, I find no more mushrooms; I simply wind up with a wet rear end.

I often emphasize the importance of making our hunts focused, seasonally pursuing target species on the ForageCast and rigorously searching for the optimal habitat at the perfect timing. While a targeted approach – pursuing maitake on oak trees in September, or morels in old apple orchards in May – is undoubtedly productive, sometimes the forest can provide delightful surprises when we relax our expectations. By slowing down and approaching the hunt from new angles and mindsets, we unlock opportunities for shifts in seeing that can translate into epic, edible outings.