| April 12, 2008 |
| Morels? Me? Just a few |
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The annual morel mushroom mania wouldn’t exist if morels were easy to come by, affordable and available year-round. If they popped up all summer like dandelions, we’d probably end up spraying for them. As it is, we have to go through thorns, ticks and cricks to find them. Recently I spent an hour on a Web site on how to grow my own morels. The process was slightly more complicated than open-heart surgery and required comparable laboratory facilities. The 20-some step plan started with finding morels and resisting the temptation to fry them up for supper. Then you had to capture the spores. A dozen climate-controlled steps followed. At any step along the way, failure to meet the exacting humidity and temperature standards could, and probably would, result having to start over. At that point, you would be a two-time loser. Not only would you be facing a crop failure — no home-grown morels — you would have passed up the opportunity to eat the ones you had to begin with. A morel in the skillet is worth three or four in the petri dish. In a normal year, sometime around April 15, I can expect to find my first mushroom of the spring. Around Mother’s Day, I will find my last one. Hopefully, in between those times, I’ll find more than those two. In late April, I’ll be asked a dozen times a day if I’ve found mushrooms. Mushroom hunting is a hit-and-miss business. You never want to make it sound like you’re doing too well, but then again, you don’t want to come off as someone who couldn’t find the fungus growing between their own toes. I’ll say I’m finding a few, whether I’ve just filled a 5-gallon bucket or the palm of my hand. Depending on the day, I’ll add that it’s too cold, too hot, too wet, too dry or the garlic mustard is too tall. Anything I can do to discourage participation increases my chances. Sharing what we know about the outdoors is part of enjoying the outdoor experience. I have no problem showing other squirrel hunters the trees where the squirrels are cutting hickory nuts, or taking better fisherman than I am to out-of-the-way ponds where bass and bluegill are begging to be caught. That being said, not everything needs to be shared. I might agree to take someone to a mushrooming after they’ve handed over their GPS. Before I cinched down the blindfold, they would need to sign a contractual agreement to give me 60 percent of everything they found. After that, if the blood oath didn’t discourage them, I’d take them someplace I’ve never looked before in hopes of not finding anything.
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