Strange mushrooms are falling from trees. Lichens, too.
Remember that wind and rain storm that thrashed Maine right before Christmas? It tossed all sorts of interesting things down from the tops of trees — things I’d never seen before.
One mushroom looked like a bunch of red-orange brains. I found it on a branch in the middle of the road near my house. I had my dog’s leash in one hand and a brain-covered stick in another. Who could ask for more?
I’ve always lived in Maine, and I like to think I’m pretty observant, yet in the wilderness, I keep coming across things that are new to me.
The diversity in nature blows me away. And many of the most spectacular species are so small that they’re easily overlooked.
I would have walked right past the tiny, brain-like mushrooms if I hadn’t been staring at the ground, waiting for my dog, Juno, to finish her business.
I’m always nervous about trying to identify mushrooms. Fungi are tricky, with all sorts of lookalikes. But according to my National Audubon Society “Field Guide to Mushrooms,” there’s a fungus called Peniophora rufa, which has the common name of red tree brain.
The photo in the book looks just like what I found.
Red tree brain is described as waxy, small, red, stalkless, wart-like and coarsely wrinkled. It’s found in Maine, growing on dead twigs and branches of aspens and other poplars. A crust fungus, it stands out due to its bright hue and squiggly structure.
So that’s what I’d bet my money on. Red tree brain.
Once I noticed that exciting species, I started looking around for more storm-tossed goodies.
Tree branches — and whole trees — had been knocked to the ground all over the place, and many of them were covered with colorful lichens and mushrooms.
Just a few steps down my road, one large branch was almost entirely covered in round, yellow-orange mushrooms — another species I hadn’t noticed before.
I couldn’t figure out what it was using my field guides, but a mobile app I have called “Seek” identified it as Stereum complicatum, with the common name of crowded parchment.
Comparing it to photos in field guides and online, I questioned the identification. So, I posted a photo of it on the Facebook group “Maine Mushrooms,” where I was reassured that it was crowded parchment — just with an interesting growth pattern and well-hydrated from the recent rain.
Crowded parchment is a wood-decaying bracket fungus. It grows in clusters that will entirely engulf a branch, which is exactly what I found. It’s bright at first, then fades with age. So I think I found a younger specimen.
The strangeness of finding new-to-me mushrooms in late December isn’t lost on me.
The weather has been oddly warm. The storm that knocked down all the tree branches brought in temperatures in the 50s. And while we have had periods of cold and snow, we’ve also had lots of rain.
Climate change scientists predict heavy rain and warmer temperatures for Maine in the years to come. So, I suppose this is something we all need to get used to, whether or not we like it.
Mushrooms falling from the sky in December may become a new normal.
Right near my front step, I found another tree branch covered in floppy, brown, jelly-like mushrooms. They jiggled as I waved the stick around, which drew the attention of Juno.
I doubted that they were toxic, but I prevented her from eating them, just in case.
After looking at plenty of photos of jelly-like mushrooms, I think the species I found was exidia recisa, also known as amber jelly roll. If that’s the case, it was indeed edible.
A forager in Wisconsin who writes the blog “Live Great Food” pickles the wobbly fungi to use as garnish.
If I were ever to pick wild mushrooms to eat, I’d need an experienced forager to hold my hand the first few times. I don’t want to poison myself. At best, that would be embarrassing.
As an amateur naturalist, I anticipate that I’ll be stumbling across new-to-me mushrooms for quite some time. The Maine Mycological Association has identified approximately 2,500 species of mushrooms in the state.
And that doesn’t even factor in lichen, which is a combination of fungus and algae living in a symbiotic relationship. In Acadia National Park alone, more than 400 species of lichens have been found.
Once you start learning about the natural world, you quickly realize that you’ll forever be a student. Fortunately, there are many tools you can use to learn.
In my quest to learn more about the fallen mushrooms, I referenced a mobile app, several field guides, blogs, government websites and a social media group. All proved helpful.
So, when the world is looking drab and barren, I implore you to take a closer look. Stare at the ground. Pick up a few sticks.
I guarantee you’ll find something beautiful, or at least bizarre.
