Photograph: Maggie Shannon/The GuardianįunDis has enlisted mushroom hunters from across the state to explore permitted lands and make high-quality, well-documented collections of macrofungi, which are dried and sampled for DNA sequencing. Right: The LA Mycological Society’s treasures from a morning of hunting for mushrooms in Cleveland national forest. Left: Miley Diaz, Rudy Diaz’s mother and member of the LA Mycological Society, in Cleveland national forest. But take that oak tree and bury it underground, make it microscopic, and for one week each year, have it stick out an acorn to see. Put another way: plants make themselves easy to identify, Siegel says: oak trees are there all the time. The reason why fungi here have been understudied is because most of them only become visible at a macroscopic scale for short periods of time, when environmental conditions are favorable for their reproduction. Diaz points out that the Los Angeles basin is recognized as a biodiversity hotspot – over the past 150 years, a strong knowledge base has been built for the plants and animals here, “but not for the fungi, which comprise a separate kingdom upon which plants and animals depend”. That’s part of the reason for the Fungal Diversity Survey (FunDis), a citizen science project that catalogs mushrooms in order to better understand them. Siegel says in southern California, probably half the mushrooms are undescribed. So much about the life of fungi is secret. That’s offered a thrilling chance for researchers like Diaz to study the huge variety of mushroom species that don’t always reach the surface. Photograph: Maggie Shannonīut with historic amounts of precipitation, this year the conditions have been ideal. Rudy Diaz smells the Omphalotus olivascens (the bioluminescent Wwestern jack-o’-lantern mushroom) in Cleveland national forest. The wait can be long: a recent scientific paper described spores coaxed into growing after 250 years. The part we see above ground is just the fruit of the organism – the rest sits below the surface, patiently biding its time for the perfect conditions to send up fruit. “The trees provide carbohydrates and the fungus, through having a broad expanse of root-like cells, is able to acquire minerals that benefit the tree.” “Most of the charismatic mushroom species grow in special association with trees, where they engage in this mutual ecological partnership,” says Rudy Diaz, resident mycologist at the Los Angeles Mycological Society. In southern California, the biggest habitat for mushrooms is oak trees – many so-called mycorrhizal species have special relationships with the trees’ roots. While plants use photosynthesis to make their own food, the underground part of the fungus uses enzymes to “digest” other substances that it can use as food. There is a kingdom of plants, a kingdom of animals – and then there are mushrooms. “This may not happen again for 20 years or more.” Stunning diversity He points out the rains started early, in September, and the ground has mostly stayed wet for months – an unusual occurrence in the area. ![]() “It’s the year of the mushroom in southern California,” says Noah Siegel, a mycologist who has authored books on mushrooms all over North America. ![]() And in southern California, that moment is happening right now, emerging from the soil. Photograph: Maggie Shannon/The Guardianīetween HBO’s fungus-based show The Last of Us and the legalization of “magic mushroom” psilocybin in states including Oregon and Colorado, mushrooms are having a moment. Starwood holds her favorite mushroom, a chanterelle. The whole experience feels a bit like describing wines – except the bottles are hiding beneath damp leaves for us to find. Some smell like cinnamon, others like citrus or the dark maple syrup. We pass around other findings – small mushrooms called candy caps, bright yellow jelly fungus, and brown turkey tails that resemble clam shells. Heavier than I expected, it smells earthy. She passes it around and everyone sniffs and holds it. “It’s my favorite, my absolute favorite mushroom,” she says, holding it the light. With a grin, Starwood carefully extracts a golden chanterelle and holds it up, delicately dusting off the dirt with a brush. From the top it looks ordinary enough, but from the side, I can see a fruiting body is pushing out of the ground. ![]() I bend down to peek at the shrump Starwood identified. Jess is a herbalist, forager and chef, and also teaches classes focusing on wild foods. Jess Starwood holds up a southern candy cap mushroom found while foraging on a trail in Calabasas, California.
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