This summer has really been a crazy whirlwind and I can’t believe it’s over.
During the past couple of weeks, I have been doing a seed collection project which is part of conservation efforts to save the Sacramento Mountains checkerspot butterfly, which is an extremely rare, endangered and endemic butterfly. As the botanist on the project, I have been collecting seed from a variety of its nectar plants and most importantly its host plant, the New Mexico Penstemon (Penstemon neomexicanum). This species of penstemon is pressured greatly by cattle, elk and horse grazing in this forest, which has contributed to the butterfly’s decline, so hunting down viable fruiting individuals has preoccupied us for the last couple of weeks.
New Mexico Penstemon (Penstemon neomexicanum).View of Alamogordo from the mountains.
As my mentor is out on a fire detail and my partner injured for most of the summer, I have gotten the chance to be the lead botanist and really played an integral role in the project which has been a great learning experience and I think will benefit me in my future career. I have really enjoyed seed collecting, as I find it very relaxing, and I have gotten to see some beautiful new parts of the Forest.
Sneezeweed (Helenium hoopsii) seed. Emma and I in front of the Lincoln National Forest sign at the end of our last field day!
This week is our last week as CLM interns and I will really miss being able to hike around the Lincoln everyday. I am so thankful for my time here as I have learned so much about the flora of New Mexico and about working for a federal agency, which I know are invaluable to my future career, wherever it takes me. I have gotten to work on so many different projects, hike so many miles, meet new people, live in a new region of the country, and see countless cool, beautiful plants. I am really grateful for my time spent in the Lincoln National Forest as a CLM intern and will definitely never forget it!
The past few weeks have been exciting and full of new experiences for me. I was finally cleared by my doctor to go into the field and I have been helping Julie with a seed collection project. We were tasked with collecting seeds in an effort to protect the New Mexico Checkerspot Butterfly habitat, which is currently threatened due to excessive cattle and elk grazing. Julie and I have been driving out to different sites around the forest trying to sustainably collect seeds from a long list of potential nectar and larvae plants, including New Mexico Penstemon (Penstemon neomexicanus), Sneezeweed (Helenium hoopesii), Cut-leaf coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata) and many more. Julie and I got to virtually attend a seed collection workshop from the Institute for Applied Ecology in Santa Fe to learn proper techniques for sustainable seed harvesting. We were assisted by a rotating crew of botanists from the Lincoln NF and even the former NM state botanist, but it was up to us to organize the collection sites and data. I really enjoyed seed collection because it was relatively relaxing and allowed us to drive to many different sites in one day. It does have some frustrating aspects, such as locating the target plants throughout the forest and making sure that we are collecting the correct species and all of the surrounding habitat data, but it is so satisfying to see how many seeds we can collect at the end of the day. I missed working outside so much and it was great to finish out the internship working on an important project with Julie. Plus, fall has arrived in NM and the leaves are starting to turn into beautiful shades of red, gold, and orange. The scenery makes me appreciate my work environment and this job so much!
Penstemon neomexicanus seed capsules
Fall colors!
This is my final week as a CLM intern! It went by so fast and even though the injury stopped me from going out in the field for a lot of the experience, I still learned a lot and had a great time in the Lincoln. I was exposed to the inner workings of a government agency, got to hike every day for work, and made a new friend in Julie. I loved being in a completely new place and learning about all of the fascinating animals and plants in the Lincoln NF, many of which are rare endemics that I will probably never see again (or until I return). The Forest Service staff were very supportive and informative – especially our supervisor/forest botanist Aurora. I learned how to conduct botanical surveys, worked on my plant ID, organized a land-use database and collected seed to save a rare butterfly! I am so grateful to have had this experience and will take all of the things I have learned on with me to the next adventure.
Overnight, the Alleghenies transitioned from summer to early autumn. A breezy, warm, humid Sunday afternoon gave way to a morning of unmistakably crisp, cool weather: wool-sock-weather, wear-a-scarf-indoors-weather, light-your-woodstove-in-the-morning-weather. And you know what that means – seed collection season is well underway. As the humans here in Marlinton begin to layer up in cozy knit hats, windproof shells and bulky scarves, so too the plants shed their showy inflorescences in favor of cupule caps, seed coats, and follicle wraps.
We will collect gentian when it goes to seed in a few weeks.
I used to overlook seed season, which to me merely marked the period between the summer bloom and the delightful pigments revealed in autumn foliage. But this year is different. This year, my whole job revolves around finding, harvesting and processing wild seeds. Just today we harvested staghorn sumac, black elderberry, mountain ash, pokeweed and winterberry holly, while making notes on species verging on ripening next week: wild hydrangea, common milkweed, wild raisin. Instead of my standard indifference to the dried-up flower heads or inedible berries lining the mountain roads, I now find myself deeply entangled in a rotating wheel of fresh questions: which plants have gone to seed, and which fruits are ready to pick? What kind of fruit is this, and how can you get the seeds out? Does the seed grow easily when scattered on fertile soil, or does its hard outer layer require mechanical breakdown within the gizzard of a bird? The latter can be dealt with artificially (with scarification– no animals involved), but it certainly adds a few steps to the process. The propagation of wild seeds for ecological restoration work requires additional measures which the domesticated garden does not, but that’s the fun of it.
Our initial plans to work with a local nonprofit to process our collected seedstock have changed, and Ivy and I are embracing the challenge of doing it by ourselves. With the help of our supervisor, we are building our own seed cleaning station comprised of large buckets, trash bins, several gold pans of various sizes, and a few large tarps. With these tools, we will extract the seeds from the fruits we’ve collected, a process called “cleaning.” The cleaning process will involve de-awning and de-hulling any dry outer coverings and appendages, stomping on and shaking seeds loose from their fruit capsules, sifting seed contents through various screens, and winnowing away excess fluff using box fans and a tarp. By the end of the process, only the bare seeds will remain (theoretically). We will then bring these seeds to a local greenhouse where we will ready them for propagation and seed mixes. Soon enough, our wild seed mixes and propagated plants will be used to restore native red spruce forest to one of the reclaimed mining sites in our ranger district.
But for now, we will spend the rest of September and October focusing entirely on collection, dying our thumbs magenta with pokeweed berries, clipping off staghorn sumac and checking milkweed follicles for ruptured sutures. The collected seed will be stored in our seed cooler seed season is over, the autumn leaves have fallen, and it’s time to begin the cleaning process. Until next month!
BONUS VIDEO
Jewelweed magic
We’re not collecting jewelweed, but its popping seeds sure are fun to set off
Hello again with another update out of the Lincoln National Forest! It has been a busy month for me due to an injury, conferences, and a new remote project. The biggest news is that I am recovering from a broken ankle and two torn ligaments due to (what I thought was) a simple fall while completing rare plant surveys in the field. I am currently working on a remote project that is focused on creating a database of grazing permits to help the Rocky Mountain Research Station evaluate land use over time. While this injury is pretty unfortunate for the future of my fieldwork as a CLM intern, I am learning to adjust to new projects and a different side of land management. I have been working from home for the past month and have also had the opportunity to virtually attend conferences for both the Botanical Society of America and the Ecological Society of America.
For this blog post, I wanted to follow fellow CLM intern Lili Benitez’s lead and discuss the land-use history of the Lincoln National Forest, with the intention to learn and think critically about my position as an uninvited visitor on the unceded territory of the Mescalero Apache tribe (also known as Mashgalé-õde / Mashgalénde / Mashgalé-neí). The term Mescalero was first used by Spanish Colonists as a reference to the traditional practice of harvesting agave for mescal production. The Mescalero Apache people have a long history of land use in the SW central region of NM, primarily relying on the forests and mountainous areas for resources and shelter from the heat of the desert basin. The region’s mountains, some of which are located in the Lincoln National Forest, are important centers of spiritual tradition and community. Leading up to the formation of the Mescalero Apache Reservation by Ulysses S. Grant in 1873, the Mescalero Apache people were subjected to decades of state-sanctioned occupation and violence from the U.S. Army. Today there are three subtribes: Mescalero, Lipan, and Chiricahua which make up the Mescalero Apache Tribe. The current reservation is located on 463,000 acres of land just north of the current boundaries of the Lincoln National Forest.
In 1876 Congress formed the position of Special Agent in the U.S. Department of Agriculture, beginning the long history of natural resource management at the federal level in the United States. This office eventually transformed into the modern-day U.S. Forest Service which currently manages over 193 million acres of land. It is important to understand, especially considering my current position as a CLM intern working with the Forest Service, that this land is unceded territory currently being managed by the Forest Service due to a long history of colonization and erasure of native people from the landscape.
The Lincoln National Forest began as the Lincoln Forest Reserve in 1902 and by 1907 it had expanded to include the Smokey Bear Ranger District. In 1908 the Sacramento and Guadalupe Forests were combined to create the Alamo National Forest and in 1917 President Woodrow Wilson merged the Alamo Forest with the Lincoln Forest Reserve to form the boundaries of the modern Lincoln National Forest. The Lincoln Forest has since served as an important center for cattle grazing, timber production, and recreation in the region.
Mexican Canyon trestle in LNF.
As a botanist, I was taught to identify plants with a Latin binomial nomenclature system, which is the standard accepted in the scientific community. However, this practice results in the erasure of the botanical knowledge that native people have gained through the use and study of plants in their communities. So, in an effort to decolonize my botanical knowledge I looked into some common plants in New Mexico, such as the mescal agave, and learned both the scientific name (Agave parryi) and the Mescalero Apache name (Astaneh). I encourage you to think about incorporating these names in your scholarship and to always examine the land-use history while doing fieldwork.
The past month has been kinda crazy, filled with lots of different activities and a lot has changed since my last blog post. My co-intern Emma broke her ankle while in the field (which was crazy!) so we have not been able to do our normal surveying. To give her some time to heal we got to attend Botany 2020 and the Ecological Society of America Virtual conferences which were so cool! But once we found out Emma would need more time to heal than just two weeks, the nature of my internship shifted a little to give me a wider range of experiences. I have been able to write and read forest service reports, dabble with some data entry, gone into the field alone and work with other multiple crews on different Forest Service projects and fill in where ever I am needed. Though these last couple of weeks have been unpredictable, wild and spontaneous, I feel really lucky to be given the chance to learn so many new things and be involved with different surveying and monitoring projects and techniques, which I know will be useful for my future!
While working with another Natural Resources crew, I helped complete grazing surveys and different vegetative surveys for federally endangered species here at the Lincoln National Forest, such as the New Mexican meadow jumping mouse, the Mexican spotted owl, Goodings Onion and, my favorite, the Sacramento prickly poppy. I have also been really lucky to get out to countless new areas and districts of the Forest, including Sierra Blanca which is the highest peak in Southern New Mexico. Each of these monitoring projects requires different surveying and monitoring equipment, techniques and protocol, which I was so excited to learn about and work with. I have gotten the chance to get up close and personal to so many new plants than I otherwise would have been able to learn about and see so much more of the Lincoln, working across all the districts. While working on these projects I expanded my grass ID, invasive and native plant species knowledge and surveying skills.
I feel really grateful to learn so many new things, gain new skills, meet new people, and go to some really cool places, but I am hoping Emma heals quickly and can return to the field soon!
Here are just some pictures from my unpredictable, and crazy past couple of weeks!
One of the ski hills at Ski Apache on Sierra Blanca
Views from the top of Sierra Blanca
Lightning CanyonViews from unnamed peaks in the Lincoln
Michele here from the City that Built the Hoover Dam. That is Boulder City, NV if you did not know that fun fact.
This week the Joshua Tree Genome Project team was greeted by a break from the desert heat. A high of 81℉??? What a delight. At 10PM I felt a chill in the air for the first time since I arrived in the desert. For a group of interns that are accustomed to fall breezes and leaves turning blazes of orange and red, we were ecstatic to see some weather that even sort of resembled a “fall” before a swift return to 100 degrees awaits us.
Aside from the cool weather, this week the interns split into two teams. Two of us went into the desert to help monitor a restoration project and two of us continued working at the greenhouse taking care of the Joshua Tree seedlings. I was on the greenhouse team. Along with continuing to collect data on the growth of the Joshua Trees, our task for the week seemed simple at first. Our goal is to plant new seeds for the Joshua Trees that had died after transplanting the seedlings into the crates, but then we took a closer look at how many needed reseeding. Lets just say, we planned for 3,200 trees in our crates and we need to reseed nearly half that number. Nonetheless, we took on the task and persevered through the maze of tracking down each seedling that needing replacement, preparing plant bands for reseeding, finding the corresponding maternal lines to reseed, and of course planting the seeds. This time around, we would plant the seeds directly into the plant bands and we would plant two seeds in hopes of increasing our chances of having a healthy tree from all of the maternal lines needed. By the very end of the week, we had reached our goal, and our crates were FULL of seeds.
The crates are prepped and labeled for reseeding. Intern Nick is seeding away!
To say that all of our plants were dying, however, is far from the truth and quite the negative perspective. The trees that are healthy, are absolutely thriving! We are starting to have a little forest of Joshua Tree seedlings. They are beginning to have as many as five leaves on them! It is amazing to see them grow from the first signs of life, as at the first stages they could be easily confused for a blade of grass. Now they are beginning to look a bit more like multiple blades of grass! I know, how thrilling! But for the life of a Joshua Tree Genome Project intern, it really is incredible.
A thriving Joshua Tree seedlingJoshua Tree seeds; some say they look like watermelon seeds. What do you think?
A little ‘forest’ of Joshua Tree seedlings
Next week the team is switching spots, which means I get to go out into the field! I am excited for my first true adventure out into the desert. Usually the field work I have done in the past has been venturing out into forests or prairies, so I am excited to see the contrast the desert will provide. One of my true joys is venturing far into natural landscapes that are well off the beaten path. Having the opportunity to experience places that many others have not is such a blessing. I am excited to see the native plants, walk through the dust, and gaze up at the stars at night.
This season we did one small collection for the Seeds of Success program! This collection was of Crepis acuminata (common name: Tapertip hawksbeard, Shoshone name: yham•bah•wuhrn), a small yellow flower in the family Asteraceae, tribe Chichorieae. It occurs in all western states from California, Oregon and Washington east to Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico (USDANRCS, 2011).
These flowers are targeted in restoration efforts because they support wildlife including generalist bee species, sage grouse, elk, deer, and antelope. It is also utilized by livestock such as sheep and cattle! Based on seed transfer zone information and a previous scouting trip, we chose to gather seeds from about 3 hours from the field office, near the Duck Valley Indian Reservation and the border of Nevada, homeland to the Shoshone-Paiute tribes. Heading out there a couple days in a row resulted in a decent amount of driving time, but with some good music and podcasts, it went by pretty quickly!
Important note: if you are choosing to travel/recreate during this time, try to do your research ahead and be respectful of indigenous territory and travel restrictions that tribes are implementing. Many reservations are being impacted particularly hard from COVID-19, and an influx of tourists/travelers can bring an increase in cases.
Seed collecting is a very relaxing experience. I settled into a rhythm: find a plant, pick off the white tufts of seeds and feel them between my fingers to check for insect larvae, and then place them into the paper bag at my feet. repeat. It becomes almost meditative after a while. Our first day the heat was pretty intense so we didn’t stay more than an hour or so before heading back, but the following day was cooler and we were able to settle down and collect for a few hours. By the end of our second day we had a modest pile of white fluffy seeds, a promise of future little Crepis seedlings out scattered among the sagebrush.
By mid-august the Crepisacuminata was well over flowering and was getting very dry and crispy. My mentor Jessa often jokes that a lot of our work in the summer here requires getting good at necrobotany. The plant community in the area we collected was primarily perennial grasses such as bluebunch wheatgrass (Pseudoroegneria spicata) surrounded with scattered sagebrush (Artemisia sp.), and various forbs also associated with sagebrush communities.Crepis flowers are quite cute! They have a white fluffy pappus that helps them disperse in the wind. Since we collected a little late, a lot of the heads had insect larvae damage inside (which is apparently common with Tapertip hawksbeard according to an observation way back in 1938 by Babcock and Stebbins), which made it more difficult to collect viable seeds but we still managed to do a small collection!After two days of seed collection we treated the seeds with some no-pest strips and then packed those babies up and shipped them off to the Bend Seed Extractory in Oregon! They’ll be cleaned and used in future seeding projects.
Like a well oiled machine headed down Route 66, we worked through another meeting regarding the Joshua Tree Genome project (JTGP). After hashing out questions, and weaving through theoretical discussions with an almost religious fervor, we finally felt ready to disconnect from our mentors and carry out our plan, and so we did. And in that single click, a wave of relief brushed over us momentarily as the tension of another video call rescinded. But this post-collaboration satisfaction came crashing down as soon as we opened our mouths again to reveal that all four of us interns had a completely separate and completely different understanding of what we had just agreed to do over the call.
“I think I’m just gonna call Lesley back”
“Thanks Olivia”
CLM Interns Michele Beadle (left) and Olivia Turner (Right) scrupulously working through our collected germination data in search of discrepancies
The above passage highlights some of the joys engendered by botanical collaboration under the desert sun. And despite its sweaty faults and confusing twists and turns, we still consider it fun. Fun in an esoteric “type-2” sense of the word, but fun none-the-less! This week’s “fun” has coalesced itself in the form of 3 main lessons.
Lesson #1: Sorghum cotyledons look pretty similar to Joshua Tree cotyledons. We had been enthralled with the idea that one of our mighty seedlings was growing so quickly! The seedling in question was one of the first plants we were able to observe as the germination experiment was just getting off the ground. In excitement we called over one of our mentors, Todd Esque, to show him our photosynthetic anomaly! Looking first to the plant, and then back to me, he couldn’t help but let out a gentle chuckle before asking why we were growing crops in the greenhouse. In hindsight it should’ve been obvious we were growing a member of the grass family, but hindsight always runs 20/20 (as we all know).
Two very healthy Joshua Tree seedling cotyledonsOur healthy sorghum plants serve as evidence that if research doesn’t work out, perhaps agriculture would be a successful venture for the 4 of us
Lesson #2: Joshua Trees are plants of the desert, and probably should not be sitting in pools of water. During our stint as sole operators of the greenhouse whilst our mentors took a much needed break, we followed a strict schedule. Water the crates every morning at 8:00 AM, and water more lightly every evening at 4:00 PM. We ritualistically followed these guidelines given to us, without even considering the warning signs of over watering. Some of these warning signs included the rust orange pools of filth gathering underneath our crates, the intensifying humidity of our work environment, and of course the emerging fungal “snow cover” noted upon the substrate of some of our plants. Luckily for us our head mentor, Lesley Defalco, pulled the plug on our 5000 attempted murders, and as a result our plants did not spend enough time swamped to be significantly damaged! We now follow a more conservative practice of watering only every other day, which saves water and cuts our work time as well!
A look at our crates, which will soon house 3200 young Joshua Trees
Lesson #3: We truly are in good hands here in Boulder City, Nevada. The work down here has been extremely rewarding, but it hasn’t been without its difficulties. Keeping up with the germination of 5000 plants, and then working to transplant well over 1000 plants all while tracking every seed meticulously on a daily basis has proven difficult for a team of 4. Add on top of this consistent temperatures of 110+ Fahrenheit, and no days off for 2 weeks straight, and you might get a disgruntled group of botanical goblins! But, while I would still entertain the label of botanical goblin, I would not say we became disgruntled, and this is because our mentors, sympathetic to our struggles, ordered that we take two days off in the middle of the week and recharge. Research is difficult, and working to create the best data possible for such an incredible and important project is a stressful proposition. But we 4 interns feel confident that, when push comes to shove, our mentors, the JTGP team, and The Chicago Botanic Garden truly have our best interests in mind.
All smiles from “The City that Built The Hoover Dam” as Michele Beadle transplants a healthy Joshua Tree seedling to its respective crate
My name is Ivy Makia and I am one of two CLM interns out here in the Marlinton-White Sulphur district office at the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia. I’m just a little over a month into my program and dare I say—everything has been all but conventional. From the very start of the pandemic, I was so on edge about everything, particularly about the status of my internship and whether or not I’d have to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. As someone whose been dreaming about this program for the last two years of undergrad and had no other post-graduation plans other than doing this, I felt so incredibly grateful and relieved to be able to take part. This deep sense of appreciation has really set the tone for my time here so far, despite the ups and downs; the only down being a bout of pharyngitis which I developed two days into my 14-day quarantine. While that was pretty rough, I think back on it positively because I didn’t miss out on any work and I got to eat a lot of soup!
Upon first arriving in West Virginia, I was completely enamored by her beauty and limitless amount of open green spaces and rolling hills. I definitely wasn’t in Florida anymore! While the views here are utterly spectacular, the one thing that stands out the most is the quiet. The complete absence of heavy traffic and never ending construction filled me with so much more joy than I anticipated. How could I ever go back to the big city?
First sign that I had made it!
PEAS IN A POD
Caroline (right) and I (left) after a day of assisting fish biologists on a Trout habit survey using electrofishing!
Throughout my short time here, while life has been shifting around me, the only constant has been my co-intern, Caroline. Before I met her, I wasn’t too sure about what to expect and I was super nervous that my lack in hiking experience would frustrate her and put a strain on whatever work relationship or friendship we might develop. And even after meeting her and talking to her on occasion during our time in quarantine, I was still so nervous and even intimidated because of how different her way of life was from mine. It wasn’t until after our quarantine was over and we had moved into the bunkhouse that our friendship took off! When I thought 2020 couldn’t surprise me anymore, I was blessed with this incredible human who is one of my biggest supporters.
As I hinted at earlier, I have no experience with hiking, let alone nature! I come from a tourist city where our best attractions are all man made. So when I confessed my noob status to her, the first thing she did was take me to a trail and guided me through my first ever hike. On that hike, I saw so much beauty and learned new things about myself and about my new friend, Caroline.
Caroline and I on my first hike
That trail was pretty easy compared to the off trail hikes we’ve since had to do on botanical surveys. Last week’s survey in particular, was the hardest hike. The unit that we surveyed that day was nearly 88 steep acres, and on top of that we were getting mercilessly thwacked by the red spruce trees that dominated the area. It got to a point where I couldn’t go on and I was brought to actual tears by the exhaustion and disappointment that panged throughout my being. While I was frustrated by my physical inability to keep going, I was so grateful for Caroline because from the very start of the hike she was there for me. Before I knew what was going on, she always had her hand out for me to grab. Before I knew to speak up for myself, she always stepped in to make sure we took a moment so I could breathe. I can honestly say that I don’t think I would have been able to get as far as I did without her presence and her unwavering support. I felt so weak for crying but she somehow made me feel strong. That was the day that I knew that I couldn’t have gotten a better co-intern and friend.
MORE TO COME
Due to the concerns surrounding COVID, our start date was pushed back by nearly two months (when you include quarantining) but it was definitely for the best considering that most of the flora here have just begun flowering or going into fruit. So we’re finally going to jump into seed collecting as early as next week! Until then, Caroline and I will continue to study the plants that fill this amazing and vast forest ecosystem.
Running Cedar (Diphasiastrum digitatum)
Sweet Joe Pye-Weed (Eutrochium purpureum)
Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora)
Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca L.)
Monarch Caterpillar (Danaus plexippus) chowing down on some milkweed
There is a remarkable place behind the Monongahela Ranger Station in Marlinton, West Virginia. Beyond the parking lot, through Mountain View graveyard and around the forest road gate lie the remains of the old Marlin Mountain fruit farm, now regenerated into mixed oak-maple hardwood forest speckled with patches of rhododendron in the understory. From the standpoint of the common recreationist, this deciduous forest may appear altogether ordinary, if not dull. It is likely that the inconspicuous treasures of these woods will be missed by anyone who arrives ill-equipped for noticing the hidden. Finding the enchantments of this forest requires a keen eye, a sharp nose, and an openness to impulsive excursions off trail. A seeker must be willing to break through spider webs, crawl over windsnap, kneel frequently in the mud, and earnestly enjoy the rain. If you’re like me and are prone to wandering, and you have plans to go on a casual trail run through this forest, be warned: your plans have been thwarted.
Although it was early golden hour in the open expanse of the graveyard, the gilded, green vegetation diminished as soon as I passed under the first arch of trees on the forest road. In the dim light, trunks and leaf litter fused into homogenous gray walls hemming the dirt road, which itself was barely bright enough to continue. I pressed on at a cautious pace, scanning the road for ankle-rolling rocks while keeping my peripheral awareness open. Fifty paces into the jog, I was stopped in my tracks. Two tiny orange sentinels stood in my path.
Cantharellus lateritius
Chantarelles! Beyond the first two mushrooms was a whole line of them dappling the road, glowing orange against the muted gray backdrop of leaves and soil. I had come across chantarelles only once before, though as an amateur mycologist I have had an eye out for them for many years. I felt as though a huge welcoming gift had been bestowed on me by the forest. Chantarelles are some of the most popular edible wild mushrooms, and are sought after worldwide. Unable to contain my excitement, I spread my arms open toward the canopy and let out a beaming “Whoop!” of unbridled gratitude. Although these little chantarelles were far too small to pick that evening, I made a mental note to return in a few days. It was clear that this road had not been used for some time, and I felt safe to assume that no human would come pick them before I returned.
I continued on my run, but only after a few moments with my belly to the soil and my nose pressed against the little orange mushrooms, inhaling that signature fruity fragrance. As soon as I started to run, I was dodging another patch of tiny chantarelles mixed into a rainbow of mushroom hues: seafoam green Russula variata, scarlet Russula emetica, bright white Destroying Angel, brown and yellow boletes. I had to run on my tiptoes to keep from smooshing them. Only a hundred paces later, I was stopped once more. To my left, a prominent pearly shape stood out from behind an oak against the ever-darkening wall of gray woods. I had to investigate! Jumping off the road and sliding down the embankment, I swung around the tree to have look. An enormous, bright white mushroom with a cap the size of a Frisbee shone up at me. I brimmed with awe at its size and measured its diameter with my hands: ten inches across. Wow! The largest gilled mushroom I’ve ever seen, second only to Berkeley’s Polypore, an edible polypore which can grow to be more than three feet wide. While beautiful, my newfound Green-Spored Parasol (Lepiota molybdites) is not edible. In fact, it is responsible for the greatest number of mushrooms poisonings in the Appalachian Mountains. I would be admiring this mushroom, but certainly not eating it.
Lepiota molybdites
A heavy mist set in, and it began to rain. I hopped back on the road and continued on up the ridge, being stopped every few yards by a new fungal form. Fat boletes, itsy Hydrocybes and convex Lactarius peckii lining the road caught my eye and beckoned me to stop and notice. I was walking and squatting far more often than jogging. My run was not turning out as planned, but it didn’t matter. I felt as though the forest was revealing itself on another level, and I didn’t want to miss it.
Just as I was getting back to a more normal running pace, I glimpsed a patch of humungous, bright orange, smooth chanterelles lining the road along a rhododendron patch. I chuckled at the pure gratitude I felt at the two thumbnail-size chantarelles I saw only thirty minutes before. These were most definitely ripe for the picking. I was nowhere near finished with my run, so I marked the spot on the trail with sticks for my way back. I continued to mark the trail for the rest of the chanterelle patches (and black trumpets too!) which kept getting larger and more plentiful as I climbed higher in elevation. It was evident that the chantarelles were ripening on an elevation gradient, beginning high in the mountains and continuing downslope with the progression of late summer. A week after my first run-in with the tiny chantarelles at the beginning of this story, they were the size of my palm, and the ones at the top of the ridge had long ago decomposed.
On my return journey, I picked half of the largest chantarelles, leaving many mushrooms of different life stages to carry on reproduction. Even so, I had a shirt-full of mushrooms by the time I reached the gate. My arm was tired from the load, and I frequently had to switch from one hand to the other as I jogged back home.
It was dark by the time I got to the house. Warm light streamed from the windows, and someone was playing jazz. I kicked off my soaked shoes before I walked into the kitchen to greet my new friends, bounty in-hand.
