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In the Bush: It's hunting season — mushroom hunting, that is

Our favourite outdoorswoman Viki Mather is out stalking her prey — tasty wild fungi
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It's mushroom hunting season. (File)

Hunting season is upon us, and I will be happy once it’s done. After hunting season I’ll be able to walk carefree through the forest, and paddle quietly along the shores. 

I’ll be able to listen to the birds chattering away in the distance without the distraction of the hunt. It will be ever so nice to just go for a walk, without goals, without purpose, with simply the desire to enjoy the exercise and fresh air.

It is peak hunting season right now, and I feel compelled to get out in search of my quarry. I carry a pack and knife, stalking my prey. I catch a glimpse of dusty white through the trees and immediately go after it.

Yes! It’s a pair of matsutakes

In a moment I’m down on my knees, gently lifting the softball sized mushrooms from the duff. This pair is in prime condition. I gently brush the pine needles from the caps and dirt from the stems. 

I tip the underside of the mushroom close, and breathe in the unique and marvelous fragrance of matsutake. Ahh. Life is good. Dinner will be wonderful too.

Because it is hunting season, I need to go where the mushrooms grow. There are certain places where I’ve found the prize mushrooms before, and now I need to check each and every one of them to see if the time is ripe.

An afternoon paddle in the canoe requires me to take the collecting basket and knife. In a good year, I’ll need boxes. 

I can see the pine mushrooms from the water. A glimpse of white, but not pure white, there’s just a hint of cream.

These big mushrooms push up the duff, so often only the slightest curve of the edge is seen. I have to get closer to be sure. Naturally, being a delicious mushroom, there are others that look the same from a distance.

Russelas will do that. Great big white ones, pushing up the duff, teasing with that lovely curve at the edge of the cap. 

Depending on how old the russela is, it might be whiter that the pine mushroom, or it might be a tad darker. As I approach, my heart with either soar with joy, or sink with disappointment.

Most of the time I don’t even need to brush off the duff to see I’ve been lured to the wrong fungus. So it goes.

Dry months of June and July, lots of rain in August, some in September … what will this mean for the mushrooms?

By the middle of September the forest had dried again, and the mushrooms struggle to emerge. Will the rain come on time? Will the mycelium be fruitful? Will the honey mushrooms fill the forest as they did two years ago, or will they be scarce as they were last September?

The only way to know is to go … the search is on.

Still, I look forward to November, when the season is over. Then I can just go out walking anywhere without the need to find something to bring home for dinner.

Viki Mather has been commenting for Northern Life on the natural world and life in Greater Sudbury since the spring of 1984. Got a question or idea for Viki? Send an email to [email protected]


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