Morel in Natural Habitat

At a farmers market two weeks ago I overheard two wild mushroom foragers share stories about morel and porcini finds. One told the other, “I live near Gold Bar (foothills of Washington Cascade Mountains), and I have lots of them right on my property, you know, the river, cottonwood trees, pines and Douglas firs. I get most of the ones I sell here within 200’ of my house.”

A light went on. I live on a river that is lined with cottonwoods, firs and pines. You don’t suppose??

Their conversation continued into shared complaints about amateur foragers whose ignorance is eliminating long-standing mushroom plots (apparently wild mushrooms come up in the same place year after year). One scoffed and said, “What really bugs me is the way they pull the mushrooms up out of the ground instead of cutting them off at the stems. Anyone knows they’ll never grow in that spot again.”

Visualizing the sharp paring knife I would take with me to the woods next to my house, I could  see dozens of innocent morels waiting to be cut (not plucked) from my yard. Only it poured that day, the next day and the one after that, and I left for Montana to fish.

The last day of fishing three of us hiked about 4 dense, miles up the Clearwater River looking in vain for cutthroat and brown trout. The pristine woods were filled with cottonwoods, pine and firs. As we bushwhacked through the trees and underbrush, we were horrified at the damaged acres of the pines ravaged by a four-year pine beetle infestation. Suddenly I remembered the foragers’ conversation and turned my attention to the ground.

Not thirty minutes later, I saw them. Two 4” tall, plump and perfect morels stood tall above the leafy mulch, looking right at me. Google references were right; nothing but morels look like morels. “Hey, who has a sharp knife?”

I carefully cut each one off about a half inch from the ground and placed them carefully in the fishing net (that by the way no fish had touched for two days). From then on our attentions focused downward until we reached the car.

I have to say that there is no cutthroat or brown trout, including even a 5 pounder that could have made my day like those gorgeous wild treasures. Tomorrow I will spend a few hours in a special corner of my yard. Who knows?…