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Last autumn my family spent many moments out in the forest hunting for mushrooms. My husband would carry his gorgeous collecting basket slung over his shoulder with a leather strap. I usually had a small, decidedly unromantic, reusable shopping bag. We both had pocket knives. We were most interested in seeking out the edible kind, but of course fungi come in so many unusual and delightful forms that they all elicited excitement and wonder. My husband knows far more about mushrooms than I do and he is the one who initiated the hunting. As I have wildcrafted plants for food and medicine for many years, it didn’t take too many trips together to convince me I wanted to do more than tag along. Mushrooms can be dangerous and I think that is what caused me to hold back for as long as I did. My son is only mildly impulsive and my husband and I don’t worry about him taking any risks when he is out looking for mushrooms. Our daughter is a totally different child. If there is forest food or garden vegetables to be picked and sampled, she becomes wildly interested. (Thankfully she is becoming more cautious with age).
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The previous autumn I didn’t go anywhere near mushrooms with my little one – except for the front yard where countless times I swept my finger through her mouth, removing bits of mushrooms and firmly stating over and over again: “Danger! Mushrooms are dangerous! Mushrooms can make you very, very sick or kill you”. My husband’s refrain was “You will never see Mummy or Papa again”. Really, pretty scary.
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But a year later, we all went out together to take a look for what mushrooms we had in our local forest stands. I was still nervous about identification and still worried about our daughter. There are so many mushrooms growing that I didn’t let her out of my sight. She was always close enough for me to see what she was stuffing into her mouth. Close enough to identify if it was a plant or berry she knows to be safe or if it was a mushroom she had pulled up, knowing she was breaking rules. Close enough to keep her safe from herself.
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On our trips we found many varieties of mushrooms that are not safe or not tasty to eat. Fortunately, we also found many that are! I believe that in our freezer we still have a jar or two left of yummy mushrooms fried in butter. After a few trips together, I would go out on my own to harvest mushrooms. I only trusted myself to collect one type! You might have read here and there that you can try bits of mushrooms and if nothing happens then that variety is safe to eat. Not true! Some mushrooms take years of ingestion before they destroy an organ. We have one that grows in our yard that over time attacks red blood cells but causes no indigestion in the short term. And then there is the very deathly amanita. I don’t want my daughter to go anywhere near one of those. And they are around. Unfortunately, every cute mushroom toy is decorated with these sinister red and white mushrooms, making them even more appealing. I understand. Amanitas are exquisite. They are beautiful and enchanting. My little girl knows without a doubt that these particular mushrooms will kill her! But watching her parents harvest and prepare some mushrooms has led her to be safer with all mushrooms. What we have observed is that knowing that some are safe (and being told Repeatedly! to eat only mushrooms her parents cook and serve her) has made it easier for my daughter to understand and respect that many other mushrooms are not.
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Now we are in spring! I thought my mushroom hunting was done months ago. However, after three days straight of pouring rain, I did an inspection of my garden and discovered a big surprise. We had all arrived home from a family outing on a beautiful, sunny day. My husband was walking towards his studio, carrying a load of supplies. I wanted him to come quick, very quick. However, I also didn’t want to alarm him. It was a balancing act of volume, emotion and body language! Irrational, I was afraid that if he didn’t come right away, the patch of morels would disappear – poof – just like that!
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But of course they didn’t vanish and we have morels growing right in our front yard, mostly sidling up to my irises. A new baby morel pops its little head up every day! So very exciting! Hopefully this patch will grow up again next year. Or perhaps it will be a one hit wonder and we will look back fondly at the spring when we were lucky enough to be treated to delicious snacks of morels fried in butter.
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