As summer dashes behind the bend, before we know it leaves are falling, trees are changing colour and crisp sunny days cry “Autumn is here!”. With it, the fungi hype suddenly appears everywhere. Mushroom caps are popping up, friends are foraging, and the Innsbruck film festival attracts many fungi fiends to its mushroom-themed film “Follow the Rains” [1]. Following the enthusiasm of friends, it’s the first time I’m taking a closer look at these squidgy, slimy, drippy and sometimes droopy (essentially highly diverse) caps on stalks (mushrooms). There are some more links; in class we’re learning that abandoned grasslands, far more connected by intact mycelial networks are more resilient to disturbances, such as those induced by climate change, compared to managed meadows [2]. The symbiosis between fungi (or more specifically their mycelia) and trees is garnering recognition in the scientific world and amongst the public. The fungi use their long network of the mycelia of mycorrhizal networks to reach water sources far deeper than tree roots ever could in exchange for sugars from the tree [3]. In essence, without fungi, there would be no trees [1].

Whilst out looking at mushrooms in southern Trentino, a guidebook helps us to give potential names to the specimens we come across. We’re looking at whether they have true gills, false gills, hymenial pores, or their different cap shapes. The choice to collect them comes later, but for now we are fascinated by how they look, which colours they have, and how they smell. A whole new world is opening up. And then after some dedicated observation and investigation we have our first mushroom match. The shaggy ink cap mushroom or lawyer’s wig (German: Schopf tintling, Italian: Coprino Chiomato). This one we can even take home*. The next day the ones we left standing are still there and now we see that the once white cap has turned black, folded in on itself and is literally dripping. The name gives everything away: already 300 years ago the liquid from dripping inky caps was used as ink. Many texts are still visible today. Using a microscope, scientists can identify the species from which the ink was produced by examining the spores present in the ink [4].

Fig.1: Dying fruiting body of Coprinus comatus, shaggy ink cap. (L. Seefeldt. Lake Ledro, Oct. 2024).

Fig.2: Saprotrophic mushrooms growing on a tree. (J. Lüdtke, Lake Ledro, Oct. 2024).

Giving a name to what I see is helping to develop a connection to the natural environment around me. Lélia Demoisy, a French sculptor who uses her craft to explore our relationships with nature using installations made from natural materials, says “if we learn the name of a tree or flower, it instantly becomes more important to us. It’s no longer an intangible concept.” [5] Like naming, art can be a powerful mechanism for us to connect with nature and our environments.

Ledro Land Art is a land art park south of Lake Ledro in Trentino whose pine forest holds installations inspired by the connections between humans and the natural world. Artists have created works that show that humans too are part of the natural environment. In her artpiece “Phasmidae”, Georgia Matteini Palmieri describes how as a child, collecting and cataloguing anything she and her family found in the natural environment helped to develop her fascination for nature [6].

Mushrooms are a visible emblem of the life cycle of fungi. They are vital for ecosystems: creating new soil that provides nutrition and habitat for many trillions flora and fauna that live in, around and rely on the soil. With this knowledge of the ecosystem functions of mushrooms as decomposers, we can appreciate the cycle of nature. They show us very tangibly how old can create space for new.

* Always exercise caution when foraging for mushrooms. Some mushrooms are highly toxic. Beginners should forage with an experienced guide.

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Cover- and preview image: Mushrooms growing on a tree. Photo by Presetbase Lightroom Presets on unsplash.com