Deep In The Mind Of A Morel Mushroom Hunter

Once a year I become an obsessive hunter.  I can’t control my thoughts for a month.  All I can think about is the woodsy smell of the morel.  The beautiful shape of the mushroom is doodled on my To Do lists, in my thoughts, and in my dreams.  I crave it, I drool over it, it consumes me.  Until I find one...then I consume it.

April showers meet up with the night time warm temperatures which then mixes with daytime rays of sunlight creating optimal hunting conditions.  I am not hunting a creature that can run from me but a fungus that conceals itself amongst trees.  I do not like ticks, mosquitos, or gnats.  Although, for a moment I convince myself that being immersed into dense brush filled with such bugs is a small price to pay for the reward of the mouth watering morel.

Methodically, I will drink my morning coffee while packing a lunch for my trek.  I carefully plan out what location to begin at and where to end my daily search.  I will lay out my attire consisting of a long sleeve shirt, white jeans(easy to spot ticks on), boots, hat, fanny pack, and my walking stick.  I rub tea tree oil on my neck and arms hoping the stench will ward off the blood sucking ticks.  I collect my essentials...knife, mace, netted bag, chapstick, smokes, lighter, and my phone.  Just before leaving for my day I gently cover the floor board with paper to protect it from mud and sand.  My daily perfume is that of deet spray.

Once I have arrived at my secret location I will take a deep breathe hoping to smell the scent of the morel.  I crouch low and walk like Marco Grouch at short intervals hoping to see my prey.  I will walk for hours taking in the crisp spring air while scanning my surroundings for hidden patches of morels.  My hunts can last up to 6 hours a day.  I may find many or end my day with none.

Once home, I will try to redirect my visions of mushrooms to my daily tasks of being a mother and a wife.  Yet always, my conversations return back to morels annoying family members.  I know that but I can’t help myself.  My mouth will water thinking of frying up the tasty treat!  Bedtime isn’t an escape for a morel addict.  It is only another way for your mind to continue to hunt while sleeping.  I will have dreams of finding a honey hole or being spotted by a fellow hunter only to lose my secret hunting spot.  

I wake another day and begin the seasonal routine of a morel addict.