But if someone else came foraging and found it, then they would also get some musakane mushrooms like us for their dinner. If it was like a ‘seed’ for next year, then that was good. “We need something for next year too, don’t we?” “Let’s leave this one,” he said, smiling. I was about to pick the last one when he stopped me. As we picked one bunch after the other, our bag was also getting full. “Just find the root of the bunch and give a gentle tug,” my dad advised when he saw me struggle to pick them up. I walked round the log, crouched on my knees, and checked underneath it and lo and behold! There were more! He explained that they are usually found in abundance. My dad asked me to check the log for more musakane mushrooms. “Mmmmm, adding ‘timmur (sichuan pepper) is a must!” my father continued as he licked his lips. “It is slightly crunchy and tastes divine with chillies, onions, garlic and tomato”, he explained while my mouth watered thinking about the delicacy we were going to have for dinner. “I wonder what it tastes like?” I asked quickly. A warm feeling rose inside me, and we stood together. He showed me the blunt looking tips of the bunch which were shaped like the ears of mouse. “We call it musakane (mouse-ear),” he laughed.

All morning we had not found enough mushrooms to have as a tarkari (curry) for our dinner. My feelings of doubt and confusion were replaced with happiness when I saw how delighted and proud he was of my find. “You have found the perfect mushroom!” he said proudly, “It is a coveted one.” He crouched next to me, checked it, and smiled. “Is it edible?” I asked as I pointed at the mushroom.

He had gone a little further into the forest, where he used to look in previous years, to check other logs for horma (oyster) mushrooms. I called for my dad, louder each time because the nearby Tumbasha rivulet had swelled up and was making too much noise for us to hear each other. “Should I pick it or not?” I bent down looking closer.

I realised I had never seen such a mushroom before. Hidden behind the inner parts of the log’s bark was a bunch of whitish-colored mushrooms with branches that had blunt roundish tips. I walked towards it quickly and crouched next to the big decaying log on which it was growing. Then I noticed an unusual-looking mushroom in the distance. The squelching earth under my feet felt soft as I took a deep breath of air that smelled of woods and decaying leaves. It had rained the night before, so the ground was damp and squishy, giving leeches a chance to try to climb up my gumboots and onto my legs.īut I was not concerned. Sun and cloud were playing hide and seek creating a komorebi (sunbeam)effect in the forest near Syaubaari, Jhumlawang, where my dad and I were looking for edible wild mushrooms.

Mushroom wars mushroom hunters