Me and morel mushrooms rarely see eye to eye or come face to face. While I dig a walk through the timber under the guise of hunting fungus, I haven’t done so for quite a few years. With limited outdoor time, I find myself on the water rather than in the woods when I get a chance to get some fresh air. However, on May Day I was able to incorporate a few minutes of mushroom hunting as I pond hopped on some strip mine ground.

You see, several years ago, as I stood on the bank of a deep strip mine cut, I observed a pair of anglers making their way down the opposite side. They were not particularly quiet so I couldn’t help but overhear one fellow holler at his buddy, “Hey, there’s mushrooms over here.” Well, I filed that info and general location away in the event that I would have a chance to take a peek for myself one of these years. This was the year and sure enough there was fungus (note: plural would be fungi). The lone morel I managed to spot is pictured above and it was left to hopefully produce a few more next year in the way that mushrooms do their thing.

Were there more in the vicinity? Probably, but I sure didn’t see them. I marvel at the posts of folks with picnic tables full and hauls registered in pounds as opposed to individual specimens. But I just don’t have the touch and have long wondered how many morels have seen me as I aimlessly wandered and scanned the terrain oblivious to their presence. There’s always next year though and perhaps my “luck” will change. Talk to you later. Troy