The Magical Mushroom Kingdom
This autumn has been a wet, windy and fairly dull affair here in the woods so far; a far cry from the two previous years which delivered warm sunny days and cold nights resulting in riotous displays of autumn colour. There has been one positive from all the wet weather however, our gaze has been diverted from the golden leaves above to the earth beneath our feet and an explosion of fungi working their mycelial magic amongst the leaf litter. In our nine years living in the woods, I don't recall ever seeing so many. Although we were already able to identify a few common species, with so many fungi on our doorstep this year we decided to delve a little deeper into the mushroom kingdom.
The notorious and deadly poisonous Deathcap (Amanita phalloides)
For many years, I've been fascinated by fungi, as I think many of us are; there's something mysterious about their transient nature, often springing up overnight only to disappear just as quickly, their preference for dark and moist places, and of course the strange allure of the toxicity of many species, like the Death Cap and the familiar read and white spotted Fly Agaric. Some too, are simply beautiful to look at, as intricate and delicate as any wild flower.
For me though, the most fascinating thing about fungi is the way they interact with other species. The mushrooms and toadstools that we see above the ground or growing on trees are just the fruiting body, the part of the organism responsible for spreading spores. The rest of the fungus lives beneath the ground or embedded in the wood or bark of trees and is called the mycelium. The mycelium is a complex, web of delicate, branching strands called hyphae, the hyphae release enzymes that break down plant matter and other material releasing nutrients that can be absorbed by the fungus. Like us, fungi can't generate their own sugars and nutrients like plants can so they have to chow down on whatever they can get. This mycelial growth is there all the time, under our feet, ever growing and expanding and it's only when conditions are right and the mycelium reaches maturity that the fruiting body pops up. Trees and other plants have formed incredible alliances with this mycelium, sharing nutrients, sugars and water with each other via mycorrhiza, which literally means 'fungus root'. In this mutually beneficial relationship, the mycelium of many fungal species penetrates the roots of trees and other plants, tapping into their plumbing systems to obtain sugars made by photosynthesis whilst the fungus captures nutrients and water that would normally be out of their reach and makes them available to the tree. It's thought that plants and trees would be unable to grow without this symbiotic relationship, and that therefore almost all life on earth depends on the presence of fungi. Remarkably, it seems too that trees and plants are able to communicate via this underground network of roots and mycelium; I can't think of a better illustration of the interconnectivity of absolutely everything in nature and the universe.
This is a pretty crude explanation of how fungi work, to find out more I wholeheartedly recommend reading 'Mycelium Running' by Paul Stamets which fully explains the intricacies of our fungal friends as well as offering suggestions on how we can harness the power of fungi to help create a healthier planet. Stamets has a short TED Talk on the subject too which is like a condensed version of the book and is worth checking out for an overview.
Wrinkled Peach (Rhodotus palmatus)
Every walk or wander in the woods this autumn has been a mini fungi foray and even on the dreariest day we've found some joy in finding something new to look at, from huge Ceps and Parasols to tiny Mycena and brightly coloured slimes. We took things one step further and joined two guided walks held by our local fungus group which we found hugely interesting; one at the Knepp Estate and another at our local Wildlife Trust Nature Reserve. The best way to learn about fungi is almost certainly with an experienced mycologist; we were by far the least experienced, yet everyone was more than happy to help us in identifying the fungi we found, and we came home with a notebook full of misspelled scientific names to look up and lots of crude sketches and photos to help with our future learning. We discovered new insights into the host species of the fungi we found, and also took a look at the spores and even cells of fungi under a microscope which is a lot more enlightening and interesting than you might expect; the variation in spore structure and form is staggering.
Teeny tiny mycena (Frosty Bonnet) found on our foray with the Sussex fungus group.
We made the deliberate decision not to focus on the edibility of fungi this year, but rather on the ecology and beauty of these mysterious beings. One of the problems with the human connection to nature is that we often only tend to be interested in things if they have a use or can benefit us in some way. We find that we can easily overlook interesting and remarkable species due to their lack of edibility or utility, but by learning to appreciate the inherent value and beauty of fungi we embarked on a new journey into the mushroom kingdom. As our home planet faces a raft of human inflicted pressures and we fight to lessen the severity of the climate crisis, its in our relationship with the rest of nature that the probable solutions lie. If we can learn to appreciate the wonder of nature in of itself rather than looking for ways in which we can exploit it for our own gains, understanding the interconnectedness of all life, then we might just be in with a chance.
The photos above are of some of the fungi we found at home and a little further afield; we don't know all of them so if you're a budding mycologist then let us know in the comments! For further reading we recommend, Collins Fungi Guide, Mushrooms by Roger Philips, Mycelium Running by Paul Stamets, and also finding your local fungus group via the British mycology society. Happy hunting!