I Found a Bucket List Fungus and a Stronger Faith

By Dave Layton

The mushroom is called a horse mushroom (Agaricus arvensis or A. fissuratus) because it grows in well manured horse pastures. It looks like a button or portobello mushroom on steroids. Apparently it is fairly common because it is listed in nearly every field guide I’ve seen. Yet, I never saw the actual horse mushroom in over half a century of mushroom hunting. 

In my early years I stopped my car to check out every large agaricus that I spotted, frequently hoping they might be horse mushrooms, but a yellow staining stem and chemical smell quickly told me that those mushrooms were unwholesome. It got to a point where I could tell the bad ones without even stopping my car (thus making the roads safer for anyone behind me I’m pretty sure). I’m now familiar with over a dozen species of Agaricus, so when I spotted these I knew right away what they were, but I knew little more – except that they were growing next to a familiar oak tree and in the adjacent cow pasture. That meant they weren’t horse dung specific. Yay! I wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of crap. Seriously, horse pastures are few and far between around here, but I have access to a couple of cow pastures with old oaks and maitake.

My old guidebooks said they grew in the summer or fall in northern climates. This was the end of May, earlier than when I looked for them in the past. We were visiting our family in Michigan who I wrote about in the post, Hens and Grandkids: A Michigan Visit: https://faithfungi.com/?p=461. In that post, I talked about finding a huge hen of the woods or maitake at the base of a tall, isolated oak growing near the gravel road where we went for a family walk. 

Our current visit included a new grandbaby, Silas. It would be even more fun – yay! Once again we took a walk on that road. I decided to look around the base of that oak tree to see if any remnants of the maitake were still there. They weren’t, but these large beautiful Agaricus mushrooms were growing in the exact same place – wow! After the walk, granddaughter Norah (my 9-year-old chess nemesis from last Fall) and I returned with a bag. We found many more of these near the tree and spotted them in the adjacent cow pasture but only about eight of them were good to eat. The others were too old, or worm riddled. Still, eight of these lunkers is a pretty nice haul.

Sally and I were camping near where the kids live. She and I had one mushroom with our eggs for breakfast – absolutely delicious. Then we had two or three more grilled with hamburgers for supper with the family. The remainder we took home and had with two meals. We ended up with a small container of cooked slices which we gave to our friends the Pearts. Everyone enjoyed them!  

Friday and Saturday were fun filled days. Yes Norah beat me at chess once again – but, hey, she was almost 10 by this Spring. That said, I also managed to get beat at some game or another by 7-year-old Hazel, 5 year-old Olive and even 3 year-old Margo. Fortunately, the 3 older kids, Ellie, Caleb and Isaac are now too cool to make humiliating Grandpa Bing a priority. That is, unless were playing euchre or some such card game where humiliation is required. Silas was basically non-humiliating too, though he did manage to get some baby drool on my shoulder.

Back at our campsite in the evening Sally began to realize that a scratchy throat she’d begun to feel was viral rather than an allergy.  We knew it would be a cool night, but we didn’t expect the temp to get below 40 like it did. We snuggled together while she exhibited full blown cold symptoms. Surprise surprise! I had a scratchy throat in the morning and Sally was miserable. 

We had planned many activities including church and a pizza party on Sunday, but we made a tough decision not to expose anyone more than we already had. We were going home without seeing anyone, but Sally wanted to put the pizza money in the kids’ egg money box out front of their house by the road so they could still have pizza without us. The plan was that they’d never see us come by and she’d let Brett know about it in a text. When we got there, two little girls happened to be looking out the front window. Immediately they got excited. Sally deposited the money, hopped back in the car and said, “Just drive.” I stammered something, but I knew she was right. They wouldn’t let us just say goodbye from a distance no way. So I drove off on the verge of crying.

Eventually my thoughts returned to the wonderous mushrooms in our cooler, and I thought about bucket lists. They’re always something so special. Going to see grandkids is never a bucket list item. After all they’re only a five-hour drive away. We see them at least twice a year. So why was the sadness when the girls saw us leave more emotional than the excitement of finding a delicious bucket list fungus? Because that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’d be a sorry fool if I cared more about the things in my life than the people I love.

I kept thinking about why I found those horse mushrooms where I did. A physical answer that I believe possible is that the oak tree could have been producing massive clumps of maitake that remained untouched for over a decade. The maitake just sat there decaying and fertilizing the surrounding soil until the horse mushroom mycelium reached that spot and found the fertility needed to reproduce.

Then there was the metaphysical answer which I certainly believe. God used this extraordinary discovery combined with a miserable circumstance to give me a message – pay attention! Delight can be found around any corner or behind any old tree, but sadness lays in wait also. I can love the things that are important to me, but it’s more important to know that love of things will never compare to love of family, friends and neighbors. Also the Lord’s love is greater than all and that’s why He brought a fungus then a virus into my life the way He did. Understanding this message is the key to finding joy in ALL circumstances as the apostles told us to do. I pray that I’ll not forget that message when far greater sadness inevitably comes my way.