June Mushrooms

June is already drawing to a close, but most of this month has been so dry here that I haven't really seen a lot of mushrooms. Honestly, this whole year has been pretty weak for my mycological exploits - but enough whining. June is when mushroom variety really begins to assert itself. As always, let me warn you not to eat any wild mushroom (even those I say are safe to eat) unless you know what you're doing. There is too much room for error between my blog and your plate to use this as an edible mushroom guide.

With the exception of morels, most of the mushrooms seen in May can still be found in June (nature, of course, isn't as conveniently divided into months as our calendar). The coprinoid mushrooms (inkys) are a bit more scarce by this time, but I did see a batch of them just yesterday afternoon while walking the dog. The ubiquitous oyster mushroom can also still be found. If you were to walk outside on June 15th and wander long enough, you could probably encounter most mushrooms from last month's post in addition to those featured below.

A personal favorite of mine, the ash-tree bolete (Gyrodon merulioides), begins to fruit in June in this area. For Silver Spring residents, these grow gregariously and predictably in Falkland Chase Apartments (where I used to live) from mid-June through late July. You can find them to the North of East-West Highway in the courtyard which lies just behind the big sign (weather conditions permitting, of course). I find this mushroom absolutely fascinating, as it can only be found near white ash, though its relationship to the tree is indirect. It exists only in the presence of a species of aphid which in turn only eats white ash leaves. Unfortunately, its taste is, erm, not good. I'm being charitable.

It's ugly and it's gross, but it's interesting.

In the showy category is the pretty - and often huge - Chlorophyllum molybdites. I have found a number of patches of these in the greener areas around downtown Silver Spring. They are easy to identify because they resemble parasol mushrooms but have green spores. The spore print they make is, in my opinion, about as beautiful as this hobby gets. As they age, specimens of this mushroom will literally become green around the gills. They'll make you sick, though, so don't eat them.

A button sitting on the gills of a mature specimen. I believe I measured this one at an eight inch diameter.

An unusual but commonly found summer mushroom is the crown-tipped coral (I know it as Clavicorona pyxidata, but it has many synonyms). This is another easy-to-identify mushroom because unlike other similar species it grows from rotting wood.  If it looks like the photo below and grows from wood (not terrestrially), then you can be pretty sure you're looking at crown-tipped coral. Then, it can be eaten! But not too much, because it is known to have a laxative effect. I have tasted this, both on its own and in an omelette, and would rate it as "passable."

One of the first wild mushrooms I tasted, this specimen was found in Shenandoah National Park.

The tree ear, or jelly ear (Auricularia aricula), is another interesting mushroom that I usually start seeing in June. It's a jellylike but still somehow leathery mushroom which grows from trees and logs. It's fairly distinctive and can be seen just about anywhere in this area if one looks hard enough. The odd thing about this one is that mycologists have been known to chew it like gum while out on a hunt. Now, I love mushrooms, but... well, YUCK.

When I see this, I don't think "chewing gum," but to each his own I suppose.

Unfortunately, in June I have also encountered Amanita phallioides and Amanita virosa (known as the "death cap" and the "destroying angel," respectively). I could get technical about things like "species complexes, but I feel that such digression would cloud the issue that THESE WILL KILL YOU if eaten. The Amanita genus in general should be avoided and its characteristics learned by those who have any intent at all of eating wild mushrooms. These two mushrooms are the greatest contributors to the death toll of the unwary.

This scratches the surface of what a mycologist can find this month. After all, I've covered only six species plus another handful of May leftovers. I wanted to highlight the variety of mushrooms out there by showing a few vastly different ones rather than inundating my faithful readership with page after page of photos and descriptions.

Invasive Species

Let me preface this by saying: I am not a biologist, and therefore not qualified to truly debate the issue of invasive species. Nor should the thoughts which follow be taken as an indictment on the field of biology or any of its scholars. I'm certain that the central question I wish to raise has been thought of and discussed in those circles. (In fact, I know some research has been done.) What I am uncertain of, however, is if a satisfactory conclusion has been reached. My question: are invasive species always bad?

This question is pretty simple in terms of syntax, and yet my research into this has suggested that it is complex and even difficult to asses as a valid question. The first problem is that the term "invasive species" has a fluid meaning. It is sometimes defined as a "non-native species with an adverse effect on the habitat it is invading." Adherents of that definition of the term would say "yes," and the discussion would end. At the other end of the spectrum, the term is synonymous with "introduced species," broadening its horizons to include all non-native species. Under this definition, I think it would be safe to say "no" to my original question and move on... after all, the apple is an introduced species, and I don't think anyone is blaming it directly for any particular problems (if I'm wrong about this, I'm certain there is another example - perhaps the tomato).

The above, infuriatingly, gets us nowhere: we have an absolute question with a simultaneous yes and no answer (yuck!). So how do we move past the semantics here? The first definition above is the more widely used, so I will use that as "the" definition for the purposes of this discussion. To avoid the dead-end in the debate, I must rephrase the question as follows: do biologists and/or naturalists too readily classify a species as invasive? The crux of this question is whether or not we have enough data and understanding of our ecosystem to accurately evaluate harm.

I don't have an answer to that question; I do have suspicions that naturalists are generally predisposed to see any change as negative. That predisposition, I suspect, leads us to view any effect of an introduced species as a negative effect. I'm going to attempt to share my thought process as it occurred to me: through a series of examples encountered in my own life over the past year or so.

Mile-a-minute and its distinctive triangular leaves and red
vine. The plant produces small, blue-to-purple berries.

Last summer, I put in some volunteer hours removing invasive species with the Friends of Sligo Creek. There were several such species marked for destruction, but the hardy mile-a-minute stands out in my mind. This stuff earns its name. Its vines snaked through an entire field, choking off other flora to a staggering degree. It climbed bushes and trees, out-competing not only the other ground cover but the taller flora as well. This seems like a clear-cut case of an invasive species which is truly bad for its environment. In this environment, mile-a-minute thrives so well that it threatens every other plant, endangering food sources and habitats for the area's fauna. There's no one species it is in competition with - it risks a severe drop in the biodiversity in the local area.

This is mile-a-minute doing what it does.

I've been hearing a lot about deer exclosures lately. These are tall fences put in place to exclude deer from a small area. The vegetation inside and outside the exclosure is later studied comparatively. On the surface, this would seem tangential to the subject of invasive species - the white-tailed deer is an example of a native species which has become a problem. However, per NPR reports on these studies in Silver Spring (Sligo Creek again) one of the more striking differences between the vegetation growth on either side of the fence involves the success of native vs. introduced species. Where deer are free to roam, they decimate populations of native species, while leaving the invasive species alone. Looked at in one light, this means that the native plants are under attack on two fronts. However, without the non-native plants, would the deer simply consume ALL of the area's vegetation? In this interaction, I wonder if perhaps the introduced plants are in fact acting to preserve the biodiversity of suburban wooded areas in the region. I don't know, but it seems a question worth asking.

This red mulberry grows near my apartment. As I will explain below, it may actually be a hybrid with the introduced white mulberry. One cannot really tell without a DNA study of the specimen these days.

It was some new information about mulberries that finally inspired me to write on this topic. I learned that the native red mulberry (Morus rubra) is often hybridizing with the invasive white mulberry (Morus alba). When I first read of this, it was presented as a sinister attack on the genetic purity of M. rubra. Yet the more I read the less I understood why this is a problem. Both species occupy the same niche, and the hybrids produce viable offspring. I'm sure the rationale is that if one species eliminates the other it would constitute a decrease in biodiversity. But would it? If two closely-related species interbreed to become one with a greater range of genetic variability, isn't that positive? Doesn't a larger gene pool mean a more robust population? The line between species is arbitrary in the first place - it is sometimes even loosely defined by the ability to produce viable offspring, which calls into question whether these are two species or one with a broad genetic base. At its best, the idea that M. rubra is somehow threatened in this interaction seems analogous to dog breeders' aversion to mutts, or to the concept of preserving a royal line through inbreeding.

There is a range of ambiguity in the examples above. The first seems a clear-cut case of a correctly identified invasive species. The second seems nothing but gray area to me. Clearly the overpopulated deer are damaging the ecosystem, but are the introduced species truly invasive in this case, or will they have a net positive effect given the destruction already wrought? The third seems a very likely candidate for just the type of mistake I suspect happens. I certainly could be missing a key point there, so I don't mean to imply that I have answered my question... I cite it instead as evidence that my question is valid. Is M. alba truly "invasive" under the strictest definition of the term?

It is certainly a tricky - and even uncomfortable - question. Where is the line between healthy competition and destructive contaminant? How do conservationists act without a complete answer to this question? I don't wish to sound pessimistic, or to frighten anyone into inaction. I do hope, though, that readers will think on these matters when they act to preserve the natural environment.

Species Feature #8, Train Wrecker

The train wrecker is a fascinating mushroom, technically an edible but not particularly palatable. I'll get the story of its common name out of the way quickly rather than keep you in suspense. This mushroom has reportedly decayed railroad ties to such a degree that accidents have resulted. These stories, however, may be apocryphal - after all, a number of other organisms were undoubtedly at work on each of the ties in question. Mature specimens can be quite large and showy, and their brown scales, jagged gills and inrolled cap margins can give them a rustic appearance. The stems, too, contribute to this rugged feeling with their often shaggy rings and reddish-brown scales. The size makes this mushroom a tempting kitchen experiment, but it has a tough, leathery texture which prevents it from being truly appetizing.

An immature specimen harvested from a decaying stump. Note the gills' attachment to the stem, and their already ragged nature. The scales on the stem are also readily apparent.

Neolentinus lepideus Quick Facts

Common Name(s): train wrecker, scaly lentinus

Taxonomic Breakdown:

• Kingdom - Fungi
• Subkingdom - Dikarya
• Phylum - Basidiomycota
• Subphylum - Agaricomycotina
• Class - Agaricomycetes
• Order - Gloeophyllales
• Family -Gloeophyllaceae
• Genus - Neolentinus
• Species - lepideus

The genus of this mushroom used to be Lentinus, but as with many fungi these days this has recently changed.

Range:  This mushroom is common throughout North America and Europe. It can be found growing on decaying coniferous wood and occasionally on hardwood as well. It has even been reported in coal mines.

A mature specimen, with a bit of substrate (the thing it grows on and consumes) brought along for good measure.

Here is a closeup of the gills and cap margin in a mature specimen. This one was found deep in Rock Creek Park alongside a picnic table.

It is not recommended to eat this mushroom if collected growing from treated wood - unpleasant substances like the chemicals used for weatherproofing can be taken up in the fruiting body as it grows. I personally don't recommend eating this at all due to its general mediocrity. In Michal Kuo's 100 Edible Mushrooms, Darvin DeShazer quotes another mycophagist, Robert Mackler, thusly: "If it's not at least as good as a portobello, why eat it?" I don't agree fully with this fourth-hand thought (the answer is "because it's cool," or maybe "to find out what it tastes like," etc.). However, having tasted this species I am inclined to agree in this instance. Of course, it isn't recommended to eat ANY wild mushroom at all without extensive knowledge and experience... so keep that in mind as well. If you see a mushroom that looks like the above, the reward side of the risk-reward balance is very small.

It's Hot (A Cautionary Post)

It's summer! Don't give me this Summer Solstice crap, here in the DC area we know better. Early June, and we're flirting with trip-digits out there. If you're new to the area and reading this, you are hereby warned: over the next three months, you will be seeing this. Often. Wait, though... why am I griping about the heat on a blog about naturalism? Well, apart from the obvious fact that most of naturalism happens outside (you know, where all that heat is) hydration is a matter of tremendous importance for anyone doing anything outside in heat like this.


You may think (and you'd be right) that hiking or strolling is a lot less strenuous on your body than playing sports, running, "working out," etc. However, one is also less likely to notice when one is becoming dehydrated during this lower-impact activity. My goal today is to convince anyone reading this to consider hydration - and to take it very seriously - when doing whatever it is you do in nature. Much of this is common sense, but it is good practice to occasionally sit and think about common sense. Why is it common, and why is it sense?

Hydration begins before you do.

What do I mean by that load of BS? You need to be hydrated before you go outside and start your activity. Did you have three cups of coffee this morning? If so, you'd better down a glass or two of water before you get going. Whatever your morning diet, you should really consider drinking a significant volume of water before you leave the comfort of your A/C.

Take more than you think you need.

No translation needed for this one. Whatever your estimate of water needs, bring more. If you're driving somewhere, leave excess in the car. If you don't think you can carry it, find a way. Make room.

Plan your refills.

If your trip is long, make sure you begin it with an idea of where and when you will encounter fresh water sources. Then, take advantage of them. Even if you're "ahead of the curve" it doesn't hurt to top off your supply. You may want to consider purification tables if you're depending on streams, springs, etc.

Sip, don't guzzle.

If you don't listen to this one, you will learn why.

Over-hydration can happen...

...but it generally doesn't. It takes something extreme. If you're worried about it, bring some electrolytes with you (in whatever form you choose). Again, this is rare but needed to be mentioned.

If you feel dehydrated, it's too late.

Take this one to heart. You should drink regularly throughout your activity. It's best to take in liquid before you even feel thirsty, though again, there's no need to guzzle. If you do get to the point of feeling dehydrated (headaches, lack of concentration, general wooziness, etc.) make sure that you rest until you feel better. Then rest a bit more. If you start moving and feel bad again, you haven't rested enough or taken in enough water.

Hydration doesn't stop when you stop.

We've come full circle. Keep drinking water when you get home. You don't have to take this to an extreme, but just because you've ceased your activity doesn't mean your body has finished using and shedding water.


Before I leave you, I want to leave a final note to dog owners. Be careful with your pets. However awesome your dog is, he or she cannot manage heat as well as you can. I'll let Franklin's vet do the heavy lifting on this one, but be warned. Dogs have limited ability to release heat, and they're such loyal creatures that they will literally walk or run themselves to death to keep up with you.

This is perhaps a more appropriate setting for our four-footed friends in this type of weather.