Autumn is undoubtedly here. The route ahead is strewn with copper-coloured leaves and there is a definite chill on my cheeks and bare fingers. 

I had just met with Catherine Gillies from the North East Fungi Study Group in the warmth of the Alder Room at Low Barn’s Visitor Centre. We wanted to check that the TV and HDMI cables worked ahead of the talk on Saturday morning and I wanted to check that there would be enough room to look at our findings after the walk.   

We ended up reading through the talk slides and I was surprised to learn that it wasn’t until 1969, the year of the first moon-landing, that scientists stopped classifying fungi as part of the plant kingdom.

“Which of these mushrooms do you think would be safe to eat?” Catherine asks halfway through the presentation. 

“Well… that one looks the most like the mushrooms you would see in the supermarket” I answered unsurely. 

“Let’s see!” Catherine takes me through a few different types, from a bright violet spindly fungus (amethyst deceiver) to an orange one that looks like a parasol.  

They all look like unsavoury characters - but it turns out that my little plain mushroom is the most poisonous of all. Catherine tells me that the orange parasol (orange milkcap mushroom) secretes milk from its gills and that the fungus “trompette de la mort” or Trumpet of Death, is apparently delicious. 

After chatting with Catherine, on my usual lunchbreak walk I decided to scout out some fungi for this weekend’s foray. 

As someone who is relatively new to conservation, I am amazed by the world of fungi and how, fittingly, so many types of fungi seem like something from another planet. On my walk around Low Barns alone, I’ve already seen fungi on a tree stump which look like cornflakes, but with patterns like the rings of Saturn, (turkeytail). And huge spongy-looking clumps, covered in bubbling white froth. 

As I continue on the path which winds around the reserve’s central pond, past amber-barked alder trees and obscured wooden hides, I spot a tiny mushroom sat all alone in the leaves. 

“That’s strange,” I think, ruminating on my findings so far and thinking that all of the other fungi had grown in groups. I spent a little time taking pictures of it, then stepped back to find a scattering of similar mushrooms around it. They all looked identical - tiny and pearl-white (left).

I was quickly reminded of fairy rings – and the misfortune that could befall anyone who stepped inside one (accidentally or not). Luckily, these mushrooms seemed to be on the same side of the path and (I don’t think) I had stepped inside their gathering. Actually, I happily discovered back at Low Barns, fairy rings naturally appear when a fungus grows outwards from a central point. The mushrooms which appear above ground grow in a circle, the diameter of which increases year on year.  

Saturday’s Fungi Foray unveiled an even larger array of fungi as there were so many that I had missed on my lunchtime walk. It turns out that you can’t discover the full remarkable range of fungi without actually doing some foraging. 

Within minutes of searching in the woodland, a fallen branch is discovered covered in tiny white spikes of differing sizes (candlesnuff). Resembling melted candle sticks, this type of fungus usually grows on dead wood and can be stick-like or forked (above).  

In the nooks and crannies of an alder tree we found an elusive honey-coloured fungi amongst moss and icy blue lichen.  

Catherine tells me that mushrooms do something called “pinning”, where they grow in a similar pin-shape when they are very small and eventually transform into their fully-grown fungi shape. For this reason, it can be difficult to identify fungi when they are young – pinning is the first stage of transformation for fungi, where their fruiting bodies develop into baby mushrooms. 

Instead of wondering how or why I hadn’t seen these tiny, beautiful and in many ways bizarre types of fungi, I think it’s exciting that there are remarkable things all around us which we might not have spotted before on our usual walks...