Inky Cap Art

Coprinus comatus (aka. Inky caps). Pic by nejmlez (Wikimedia)

After a tasty Thanksgiving dinner with the extended family at my mother's house, Kai and I came across a pair of sorry-looking Inky Cap mushrooms growing from the soil at the edge of the driveway. Inky Caps are amazing mushrooms. They are large (the particular ones we found were about 7 inches long), distinctive (they look like British lawyer's wigs - which is also one of the common names for them), and have the strange habit of turning from firm, white flesh to thick, black liquid overnight. When young, they are edible. When old, like the ones that Kai and I had found, they can be used as a natural ink.

Just a few hours earlier, my wife, Mary, and mother, Bonnie, had suggested I begin writing a blog. It seemed as if I'd have a lot of time on my hands since I'd been given the news a week earlier that the Cranberry Lake Preserve nature center where I work was scheduled for permanent closure at the end of the year. So the find of these particular mushrooms and the fun that Kai and I had with them became the final push for beginning this project, as well as the inspiration for the name of the blog and its first entry.

Kai fingerpainting with liquified Inky Caps

Since these Inky Caps were clearly not suitable for the cooking pot, we did the next best thing. I plucked the caps with their gills well on the way to turning into black liquid, flipped them over to make ink pots, and grabbed some paper from the car. If mom had some Paper Birch growing in the yard we could have made it an all-gathered activity. With a little encouragement, Kai poked his little fingers into the cold, wet glop and began to draw a black sun.

Kai learned the name of the mushroom, how to recognize it, and had a good time. I learned too, but it wasn't so immediate. "Why does the mushroom turn to liquid?" is what I had wondered for a long time. It had to do something with spore dispersal, but there was no obvious answer. If the spores were part of the inky fluid, they had no place to go but back to the soil below which was already inhabited by the Inky's mycelium ('fungal roots' - not a very accurate description, but that's a lesson and blog post for when Kai is older). That would be as senseless as for all of a tree's seeds to land and remain on the ground below, where they would germinate but be quickly outcompeted for light and nutrients by their mother. Apparently, there is something else going on: the spores mature from bottom up and, to facilitate escape, the portion of the gill just below the mature spores liquifies and falls away. The spores are discharged into the air and not as part of the liquid. For more on this check out the description on http://www.anbg.gov.au/fungi/spore-discharge-mushrooms.html.

The Importance of Nature Education

Until the age of 30, I couldn't tell a beech from a birch or a tiger beetle from a dung beetle.

Bold Jumping Spider by astrojunta. Pic from wikimedia.

Why is that important? "Losing their names is a step in losing respect. Knowing their names is the first step in regaining our connection," says Robin Kimmerer in her book Gathering Moss. And it is true. Imagine this sequence of events: child sees bug, shrieks, stomps bug. Now compare it with this: child sees a Bold Jumping Spider, crouches down, watches as it stalks its prey. Learning a mushroom's name (or a bird's or a flower's) is like making a friend - it sets that species apart from what can be an overwhelming blur of feathers, leaves, and fur. It is also the first step towards a true conservation ethic. How can this be? Just remember your last drive on I-684 or your last visit to the comments area of a newspaper's website: people tend to be much crueler and more inconsiderate if they are dealing with anonymous strangers. Likewise, it is much easier, psychologically, to bulldoze a stand of nameless trees than a grove of Flowering Dogwoods, maples, mayflowers, and morels. 


Knowledge leads to respect, which leads to conservation. Unfortunately that chain's weak link is right at the base. Most people can't identify a bird unless it is on a baseball cap or football helmet. All evergreens are pine trees, right? And it is not their fault - schools don't teach natural histories, including universities that issue degrees in biology. Parents often don't have this knowledge to pass on either since there was no one to impart it to them. Those that do have the knowledge are often in clubs like COMA or Audubon, although members often don't have the time or teaching skills to educate large groups of children or adults. Well-meaning television shows and books often educate about rainforests and endangered species, but that knowledge is not as immediate or relevant as a guided walk through our local woods. Which leads to the importance of local nature centers where trained staff can impart both love and knowledge of the natural world to the public. As an employee of one such place, I have seen first-hand how contagious both wonder and enthusiasm can be. I have been a spokesperson for slime molds, a peddler of puffballs, an evangelist for elms, and a pusher of poplars. During the recent budget proposal to close nature centers I saw some of the same children I had taught, write letters and speak out passionately at public meetings to support the parks that they had grown to love. And it worked. They have preserved some of our preserves for another year. Knowledge led to respect, led to conservation.


To save the environment, teach children to love it. If you can, go for a walk with your grandchildren and share your own personal experiences and knowledge of the outdoors. Encourage local schools to use their grounds as living classrooms. Support your local nature center by joining a Friends group. Tell local leaders to invest in the environment by investing in its educators. Tell large environmental groups that the best way to gain new members is not to send out free giftwrap or calendars, but to support local nature centers that are grooming future members with each guided walk in search of dragonflies, polypores, and orchids. Each introduction of frog or mushroom or turtle that an environmental educator makes to a child, could be the start of a beautiful friendship.