Tucked in the duff on the forest floor or growing on the stump of a dead tree—mushrooms captivate the imaginations of many, while others rarely give heed. The beauty and variety of mushrooms, as well as their reputations as delicious edibles, sparks interest for many.
Mushrooms are the fruiting bodies of fungi—a diverse group of organisms, best known for their ability to decompose organic matter. An entire kingdom of life, fungi are mostly unknown (all except a few favorites).
Personally, I have long been fascinated with mushrooms. Their colors, textures, and earthy scents have long drawn my attention. The result— a phone camera full of photos of mushrooms and a lot of fungi-focused questions.
Driven by my fungal ineptitude. I reached out to the Willamette Valley Mushroom Society to see if someone there might be willing to help enlighten me. And to my great fortune, Autumn Anglin, Treasurer for WVMS, answered my call.
Autumn has also fallen under the spell of mushrooms, and by her own admission, fallen hard. Ever since her first encounter with the mushroom hunting world in 2016, Autumn has thrown herself into discovering and understanding them. Today she leads a mushroom study group and is an active citizen scientist, gathering mushrooms for careful study and genetic analysis.
Autumn suggested we meet at Lewisburg Saddle Trailhead, not far from where I live, where she promised to share with me the scientific side of mushrooms. I emphatically agreed.
The Hike
- Trailhead: Lewisburg Saddle Trailhead
- Distance: approximately 1.5 miles
- Elevation gain: approximately 250 feet
- Details: Ample parking at trailhead with overflow parking a bit futher down the road. Pit toilet available. No parking pass required. Roads to trailhead are paved.
A Cold Day in November
It was a chilly day in November. A freeze set in the night before and a dense white fog shrouded the air like a mystery. The Douglas-fir forest lay still in the mist when I arrived at the trailhead.
Autumn was there ready. Armed with a wicker basket and, as I would soon find out, an unmatched enthusiasm for all things mushroom.
We quickly made a start down the gravel trail in the direction of the new growth trail cutoff. As we walked along, Autumn told me about her start with WVMS, and how her involvement has grown over the last couple of years. From joining mushroom forays to leading study groups, to her most recent work —a nearly complete at-home genetics lab.
Stump Stop
It didn’t take long, however, before something caught Autumn’s eye. She motioned me over to a stump on the side of the trail.
“There is a lot of mushrooms on this little log right here,” she noted as we both knelt to get a closer look. She pointed out “a little jelly type” mushroom next to another completely different species, just a few inches away. Larger mushrooms grew from the side of the log.
The hunt was on. We started looking for mushrooms everywhere. We looked along the side of the gravel road that sloped upward for black cups, a favorite of Autumn’s. Despite our efforts, we didn’t see any black cups. We did, however, see a few gilled mushrooms, including one with a tan, umbrella-shaped cap that smells like sperm.
Clavulina Rugosa
Next, we saw a small white coral fungus—Clavulina rugosa or wrinkled coral fungus—growing straight up from the forest floor. C. rugosa is short, only about 3 inches tall, with branches that end in blunt tips. It isn’t the most glamorous mushroom, but what it lacks in showiness, it makes up for in reliability.
Growing near Douglas-fir, often in rings, C. rugosa is a common mycorrhizal fungus in Oregon. As mycorrhizal fungi do, C. rugosa provides nutrients and water from the soil to Douglas-fir trees in exchange for the sugars the trees exude from their roots—a symbiotic relationship essential to a healthy forest.
“Our study group calls it our friend,” Autumn remarked. “We have seen it every time we go out in the winter.”
How to Know a Mushroom
At this point, we dropped down onto the new growth trail and headed deeper into the forest where we would see even more Clavulina rugosa among the trees.
The distinct characteristic of the C. rugosa made it easy to tell apart from others, but this is not the case for many mushrooms you encounter in the Pacific Northwest. As Autumn put it when asked how many different species there are in Oregon, “We have a lot!”
Thus, identifying mushrooms is a real challenge.
“My background is I am an artist,” said Autumn. “My observation skills being an artist has helped by a lot.”
To know a mushroom, you must look at the details the way an artist does. Look from all angles. Use your senses! Look, feel, and smell mushrooms. Just don’t taste.
“Run your finger over the stem and gill.,” Autumn suggested. “We can’t tell anything just by seeing a cap.”
Mushroom Anatomy
Another thing helpful when working on mushroom identification is to know something about mushrooms anatomy. Autumn taught me a few terms on our hike together.
“Stems are stipes.” The top layer, or “skin,” is called the pileus layer. “Flesh is everything on the inside, but not the gills.” Gills sit below the cap of some fungi and aid in spore dispersal.
Then there are all the terms used to describe gilled mushrooms—the group most difficult to identify. Words like notched, decurrent, forked, tiered—tumbled out of Autumn’s mouth, as we turned over mushroom after mushroom to look at the gills.
Indistinguishable
However, even with careful study of a mushroom in the field, it can still be impossible to tell with certainty some mushrooms apart just by looking at them.
Autumn explained that even the first level of division in Kingdom Fungi, which splits fungi into two main phyla—Basidiomycete and Ascomycete—requires microscopy to distinguish. Basidiomycetes are identified under the microscope by their balloon-shaped reproductive cells called basidia, with spores that develop outside of the cell on small projections. While Ascomycete cells look more like “sausages with circles inside them,” Autumn described; the circles being the spores that develop internally in reproductive cells called asci.
Luckily, a lot of microscopy work has already been done, so breaking up fungi into phyla is more a matter of looking it up in a reference book.
But it still takes a lot of work to identify a mushroom, and microscopy is still needed in some cases to tell similar mushrooms apart.
Spore prints—spore deposits on paper—is another helpful tool for identification.
Autumn recommends getting a variety of mushroom reference books to aid in identification. Just make sure they work for the region you are interested in studying. A couple of her favorites are “Mushrooms of the Redwood Coast” by Noah Seigel and Christian Schwarz, and “Mushrooms Demystified,” by David Arora.
Blackfoot Polypore and Xylaria Hypoxylon, Oh My!
It was at about this time that Autumn really became animated, as we started spotting one cool mushroom after another. Eyes bright, a cheerful inflection to her voice, Autumn talked about her mushrooms with the tenderness reserved for old friends and loved ones.
“Blackfoot polypore,” Autumn sang out, reaching down to pick up a branch with a caramel-colored mushroom attached. “They only grow on sticks and dead things,” she went on, turning over the mushroom cap to reveal a porous undersurface and its “black foot,” a dark region where the stipe (or stem) touches the Earth.
Then, moments later she spotted another.
“This is one of my favorites!” Autumn exclaimed, pointing out a cluster of thin antler-shaped mushrooms, black in color with white tips growing on some rotting wood. “Xylaria hypoxylon.”
“They are really cool,” Autumn explained. “Feel it!” she suggested, “They are rubbery and tough.” I pulled at the dark strips with my chilled fingers—the wiry body of the mushroom held together firmly.
The white tips are covered with spores, Autumn explained. In the winter, X. hypoxylon, also called “candle-snuff fungus,” produces asexual spores that coat the mushroom.
Decomposers
“The amazing thing about Xylariaceae,” Autumn continued, is that “they decompose more than any other group of mushrooms.” Xylaria hypoxylon is one of the thousands of mushrooms in this group. It is our local decomposing superhero.
Fungi in general are known for their role as decomposers. When I asked Autumn why she thought fungi were important, decomposition was her simple answer. “Fungi and lichen end up making our soil. They are the foundation of our soil,” Autumn elaborated. From death springs life.
Wood Wide Web
Upon reflection, Autumn added in response to my question regarding fungi importance—”They help communicate.”
Scientific understanding of the “wood wide web” has taken off in recent years, as more research has shown just how important fungi are to a forest. Mycelia extend and spread below the ground creating connections between individual tree root systems. Water and nutrients are provided across this network to trees by the fungi, while trees supply sugar and carbon to the fungi and, at least in some cases, to other trees in the network.
“It’s a symbiotic relationship,” Autumn stated. “It is amazing.”Forests are not just a collection of trees. Rather, they are entire ecosystems—plants, animals, insects, microbes, fungi, etc.—connected by interdependence, as well as competition.
“We should be thinking of forests as whole living beings,” Autumn remarked. We need to see the forest through the trees.
“And we are part of that ecosystem too.”
Be afraid, Be very afraid
As Autumn turned over one of many brown gilled mushrooms we spotted on the forest floor, she spoke:
“People are afraid of fungi,” she said, “but picking mushrooms is okay.”
She went on to explain that most of the fungi, the important bits, are underground. When you pick a mushroom, it is analogous to picking an apple off an apple tree. Heck, if done right, you might even help spread its progeny.
“Use a basket or bag with holes to spread spores,” Autumn suggested.
Of course, there are some limitations. “Don’t rake up the forest,” Autumn instructed. But if you find something edible or want to study it, picking a mushroom is acceptable.
Gear
Autumn carried her own beautiful wicker basket on her arm, while we hiked.
She stopped to show me the contents: pen, notebook, UV flashlight, whistle, paper lunch bags, wax bags, and a tackle box.
Autumn explained that in order to do a scientific study of a mushroom, she tries to get multiple samples at different ages. The tackle box allows her to separate out smaller samples, while the wax bags and paper bags are for larger specimens. “Never use plastic bags,” she cautioned. “They will turn to goop.”
Poison
Still off-trail, we noticed a tall, white shaggy stemmed mushroom. The edges of the cap were also jagged, remnants of a veil — a thin membrane that covers some mushrooms before they are fully grown.
“Lepiota,” said Autumn. “Poisonous.”
All members of the Lepiota genus are poisonous. Many mushrooms are poisonous, even deadly, another reason people often steer clear.
But, according to Autumn, “all mushrooms are fine to touch.” You just need to wash your hands before eating or touching your mouth, she advised.
“Chemical compounds in fungi need to be metabolized to be dangerous, Autumn explained.
Russulas
Autumn and I headed to the other side of the tree-lined path. We kicked at a few of what looked like “mush humps”—areas where mushrooms have raised the soil as they begin to come up—but didn’t see anything growing underneath
However, one type (or genus) of mushroom we saw a lot during our ramble, and are often found hidden in a mush hump, are Russulas.
“They are one of the most common, prolific mushrooms,” said Autumn. They are also “under-identified and misidentified,” despite their commonality. Not a lot of DNA analysis has been done on the group.
The ones we saw had shiny, soft pink caps, but this is not true of all Russulas. Russulas come in a variety of bright colors. Autumn picked one to point out the identifying features. “The main thing is there,” Autumn pointed to the bottom of the mushroom, “gills are attached right to the stem.” This is the signature of a Russula.
Other features include white or yellow stipes (stems) or gills, and a “skin” on the cap that peels back. Another interesting feature of russulas is their unique flesh—spongy rather than stringy. Their stems “snap like a piece of chalk.” And apparently, if you throw a russula against a tree or similar surface, they “explode.”
Unknown
Autumn and I continued our off-trail adventure in the area of the forest where she discovered a new mushroom just last year.
The fungus itself was first cataloged genetically from a soil sample in the 1970s and 80s but was never described further. Autumn had seen and documented the fungi’s fruiting body for the first time!
As exciting as the discovery was, however, there was still more work to be done. The fungi would need to be found again, Autumn explained, “five or six more times” before it can be named.
Our eyes scanned the duff, sweeping the area slowly as our feet sunk into the spongy earth.
More to Discover
Surprisingly, very few of the mushrooms on the planet have been identified, so discoveries like Autumn’s are not all that unusual. Experts estimate that as much as 90% of mushrooms out there are waiting to be discovered and given names.
“Most of our mushrooms are European,” Autumn said, “the U.S. doesn’t have that many named species.”
This is problematic because it is likely that the North American version of what we think is a “European mushroom” is probably genetically different from its European counterpart. Work needs to be done to find these differences and, thus, discoveries to be made.
Look Closely
And discover we did! Not anything new to science, but plenty more striking and fascinating mushrooms.
We saw “stunning” Marasmius plicatulus with their velvety, chestnut orange caps and thin, dark mahogany colored stipes. “They are really sturdy mushrooms,” Autumn noted as she picked one for closer examination, revealing its widely spaced gills.
Then there was the small, understated Inocybe geophylla mushroom —with its mostly lilac-colored cap — a yellow spot at the center. Inocybe mushrooms have gills that are detached from the stipe.
We saw (and I later tasted) a jelly fungus with the common name “cat’s tongue,” a member of the Pseudohydnum genus. The mushroom was translucent with the texture of a gummy. It also had small teeth on the bottom of the cap, giving it a tongue-like look. Autumn offered me a bag to collect some in. I washed them off the best I could before taking them home to prepare and eat.
Finally, growing on a Douglas-fir cone, a new favorite—the small, but stately earpick fungus, Auriscalpium vulgare. Itty-bitty and brown, with teeth that look like fuzz on the bottom, the earpick fungus immediately stole my heart. How have I never seen these! Autumn told me that they grow exclusively on Douglas-fir cones. I will never look at a cone the same way again.
Mycologist Pace
At this point, Autumn and I had probably hiked about a quarter-mile on the forested trail.
I learned quickly — you can’t really “hike” with a mycologist. It is more like a focused crawl. You bend over a lot.
We laughed at our slow progress, as we headed back onto the main trail to pick up the pace (only slightly).
For Every Season
Autumn and I followed the trail through the young forest, the mist contrasted against the unpruned trunks of the skinny trees and large stumps. A chill hung in the air.
As we walked, we talked, keeping a watchful eye out for more mushroom gems. Autumn had hoped to find one of her favorite groups of mushrooms, black cups. But today they eluded her.
“It must be too early for black cups,” she remarked.
Too early. Too late. Mushrooms are picky. Some more than others. They pop up when conditions are right, and just as quickly, they disappear. Then again, they may not come up at all.
Morels are particularly challenging weather watchers.
“Morels need three weeks at 50 degrees before they fruit,” explained Autumn. “If it gets too warm too fast or stays colder longer…” she trailed off, but her face said it all. “Morels are temperamental. They can sit underground for 50 years.”
For Every Habitat
We walked past a tree with some cool shelf mushrooms growing on it. I snapped a picture and Autumn grabbed a sample, placing it in one of the compartments of her tackle box.
On a dead tree next door, we saw an orange jelly mushroom growing. “Probably not Naematelia aurantia,” said Autumn—a.k.a witches butter.
Witches butter grows on decaying hardwood. This orange jelly was affixed to a conifer. “Dacrymyces chrysospermus—a basidiomycete with two, as opposed to the typical four, spores at the tips of its reproductive cells—doesn’t grow on hardwoods. It grows exclusively on conifers.
Just like other forms of life, fungi have habitat requirements. Knowing where a mushroom will grow can help you tell mushrooms that might otherwise be indistinguishable (or at least without a microscope) from each other.
Planting Biodiversity
We continued down the path. Stopping occasionally to check out a mushroom or two along the way.
Even though we were hiking through a plantation—a forest replanted for timber and not necessarily known for its biodiversity—Autumn noted just how many different types of mushrooms we were seeing.
“Inside plantations, I find that the diversity seems to be a lot more,” she commented.
Biodiversity is important. Biodiversity produces functional ecosystems that are resilient and produce many natural products and provide services humans, among other organisms, rely on.
One of the goals of Autumn and her WVMS Fungi group is to document mushroom biodiversity at each of the study sites. Using an app called iNaturalist, her group has recorded over 700 observations of mushrooms of a variety of types over a one-year period.
“I feel a sense of urgency due to the climate crisis to get out here,” Autumn went on. She wants to make sure we know what is there!
“It is really important that we preserve this,” she stated empathically.
Chemical Signals
At the end of the new growth section of the trail is a small log bridge that you step through before entering old growth. Here Autumn and I noticed a lot of different mushrooms growing on and around the structure.
“Careful of tan, yellow mushrooms,” warned Autumn pointing to a cluster growing on a decaying stump. “They can be really poisonous.”
Each species of fungi produces its own chemical suite designed to attract, deter, and sometimes kill other organisms. As sessile beings, chemistry is how fungi communicate.
While the chemistry of mushrooms can be deadly, it can also be a benefit to society. Humans have harnessed compounds extracted from fungi and other sessile organisms as medicines and supplements. Most of the commonly prescribed drugs in the United States, and at least 1/3 of medicines globally, are based on naturally sourced chemicals.
“I never eat white gilled mushrooms,” Autumn confessed. The chemistry is just too risky.
Waxy Caps
Stepping over the bridge, Autumn and I were met with clusters of orange-capped mushrooms.
“Waxy caps,” Autumn exclaimed, “one of the most stunning mushroom genera.”
Waxy caps, or Hygrocybe, are visually stunning. Autumn pointed out how the vibrant cap color contrasted with white, widely spaced gills.
Hygrocybe is also mycorrhizal with Douglas-fir—networking with the roots of trees. However, from where we still the nearest Douglas-fir tree was maybe 100 yards away.
“Does the network go all the way out here?” Autumn wondered out loud.
We were baffled. And impressed. Why not?
Old Growth Delights
Walking through the old growth forest, was like entering a different world compared to the plantation we had hiked through earlier. The trees were larger and more varied in age and species—including Douglas-fir, Western Hemlock, Big Leaf Maple, and Pacific Yew. Leaf litter covered much of the soil, and shrubs, ferns, and small trees added vertical structure to the scenery.
And then there were the mushrooms!
Bird nest mushrooms with their spores tucked away inside little cups, only to come loose with the splash of rain. A Marasmius mushroom with its bell-shaped cap and fragile stem. And a cluster of brightly colored Hypholoma with black spores and gills that turn green under UV light, as demonstrated by Autumn.
The List
We continued hiking the muddied path, stopping to look at mushrooms as we discovered them. I couldn’t believe how much we were seeing. A mushroom newbie, I asked Autumn if she had a recommendation for mushrooms to learn first.
“I would say try not to get overwhelmed,” Autumn replied. “You will see a lot of things you won’t be able to identify…try and identify to family and genus to start.”
So, what are the top groups of mushrooms Autumn recommends learning first? Here they are in the order mentioned.
First on the list, Red-banded polypore, or conks. Widespread wood-eating decomposers, red-banded conks are identified by the orange to red stripe that runs between the darker inner and lighter outer edge.
Next, is Mycena—small in stature but large in group size. Mycena is a genus of tiny mushrooms with translucent, fibrous stipes and white gills “you see everywhere,” according to Autumn,
Agaricus is a common urban mushroom. These white to brownish mushrooms with “super tiny, closely spaced gills.”
Stereum is another—a genus of mushrooms that grows on decaying wood. Autumn and I found some growing on hardwood log next to the trail. These thin shelf mushroom clusters are decorated in wavy bands of greens, yellows, and browns.
Russulas made the list; along with Xylaria hypoxylon and bird nests.
Perfection
As Autumn contemplated what else to include on “the list,” we walked and observed. We saw a cluster of mushrooms (too non-descript to identify), followed by a large single mushroom coated in white (it had been parasitized).
Suddenly, Autumn and I were stopped dead in our tracks. In front of us was a large amanita.
“A perfect specimen,” Autumn spoke, her eyes sparkling.
I took a few pictures before Autumn pulled the Amanita vaginata, or Grisette, from the earth, revealing its true height.
Amanitas are mycorrhizal species—again, part of the wood wide web. The mushrooms vary in size from small to large. They have white spores, and their stipes and caps are usually decorated with veil remnants.
As mentioned earlier, veils enclose some mushrooms when they first emerge, later expanding and breaking apart. In Amanita, this means patches or warts on the older caps, and skirts or scales on the stipe.
Amanita can be dully or brightly colored, like the well-known Amanita muscaria, and their caps flatten with age. The Amanita cap has a distinct margin and bell shape with a “nipple” or umbo at its center.
“That is gorgeous!” Autumn exclaimed, overcome with the beauty of it.
We added amanitas to the list. After all, Amanita muscaria is “the poster child of mushrooms,” said Autumn.
Puffballs
After our Amanita discovery, the trail veered back onto a gravel forest road that would take us back to the trailhead.
Autumn’s head swerved around looking for earth star mushrooms along the road—a type of puffball mushroom with a round “puffball” center in the middle of star-shaped rays.
We didn’t find any earth stars, but we did find a few puffballs further down the road hiding in the grass. Though difficult to tell apart. Puffballs are wildly entertaining. Poking a puffball will send out clouds of small brown spores.
Puffballs were also added to the list.
Ascomycetes
We still had some more searching to do as we neared the trailhead.
Autumn was determined to find Helvella vespertina.
“Ascomycetes are my favorite,” Autumn told me, and Helvella vespertina is one of the largest mushrooms in the phylum. (Most ascomycetes are very small and usually lichenized, partnering with algae or cyanobacteria.)
It didn’t take long before we ran across the structural beauty of Helvella vespertina. The first ones we found were parasitized with a white fungus, hiding its black cap, but not its unique shape. Later we found an untouched sample.
It is hard to describe Helvella verspertina—the stipe and cap are wrinkled and folded making it look almost “brainy.” Autumn called them “bizarre and consistent,” an equally apt description.
Morels are the other large ascomycete mushroom with a similar vibe. We added both to our ever-growing mushroom list.
Mycology on the Mind
Still with several hundred feet to make it back to our car, Autumn and I continued to hunt mushrooms.
We found several more interesting specimens including a Lactarius, or milkcap mushroom that when you break the cap oozes out a white milk-like substance.
While we hunted, we also chatted more about Autumn’s citizen science work. Thanks to her passion for mushroom biodiversity documentation, her research group earned a grant to send in 50 species this year for DNA analysis to FunDiS, or Fungal Diversity Survey, a nonprofit focused on fungi conservation.
Now, she plans to continue her work by doing her own DNA analysis of fungi she finds, and by collaborating with researchers and interested groups. With a shoulder shrug, she even hinted at the prospect of going back to school to study fungi.
Mycology Matters
After spending the morning hiking with Autumn, it was clear to me just how much mushrooms and fungi are a part of her life. Her interest and enthusiasm were infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile every time we ran across another mushroom that caught her attention.
I have always enjoyed mushrooms, but Autumn reminded me of just how much fungi matter. It is easy to forget the work fungi are doing in the soil, to take them for granted, but when mushrooms appear they serve as a reminder of the important role fungi have on the planet.
Seeing mushrooms is like seeing into an otherwise hidden world. So, take the time to get to know a mushroom or two. Perhaps, learn their names. And give thanks that there are those out there, like Autumn, ensuring their conservation.
Autumn Anglin is a mixed-media artist and vice president of the Willamette Valley Mushroom Society. She is also a “mushroom” citizen scientist, contributing to various mycology studies, including the Fungal Diversity Survey (FunDiS).
