Under the trees, autumn arrives as a scent; the smell of damp decay, as the summer plants give way to fungi. The days shorten, the sun drops ever lower behind wattle and gum, and the hot dust of summer settles. It is time for the Cinderella of the natural world, fungi, to make an appearance.
Although I’ve always been familiar with birding fanatics, the twitchers, dashing around the world looking for rare bird species, a few years back I learned that the esoteric world of fungi has its own globe-trotting fanatics.
Fungi fans across the world go weak at the knees at the mention of anemone stinkhorn and flame fungus, to say nothing of a species of fungi known as dead man’s finger. Tasmania, it seems, is a paradise for fungus freaks, or mycologists as they are officially known.
A problem with many birdwatchers – myself included – is that their interest in the natural world tends to focus on only one area of study. With this in mind, after studying plants and trees, I decided to give the world of fungi a whirl.
And I soon learned that most species of fungi inhabit one my favourite ecosystems – that of damp and moist places, usually under the towering canopies of eucalypts. This is the home of not only multi-coloured toadstools and mushrooms, but other treasures of the forest like pink robins and Bassian thrushes.
In such locations the fungi are not only vital to the process of recycling dead forest, they also provide food for insects on which insect-eating bird species and mammals depend.
The early naturalists tended to concentrate on fauna and flora, and the world of fungi came very late to scientific attention, towards the end of the 17th century.
Before this, fungi had inhabited a world of mystique and mystery, even witchcraft. Here was a “plant” – often dangerous – without leaves or a root system that seemed to suddenly appear as if by magic. In ancient circles the fungus was known as the “devil’s plant”.
It was later discovered that fungi did not belong in the kingdom of plants, they had a kingdom all of their own. Unlike plants, fungi do not possess chlorophyll, therefore they do not need sunlight to grow. They do not produce their own food so are scavengers or parasites absorbing their nourishment from where they grow.
When the fruit body is mature, fungus spores are released and dispersed by many sources – including wind, water, insects and birds and animals – providing the fungus with a way to spread and form new colonies.
We see only a small portion of fungi species. The unseen, or main part, is made up of microscopic threads which weave their way through the soil or wood, busily decomposing dead plant material and returning nutrients to the soil.
The toadstool is the unheralded symbol of the silent busyness of decay.