Latest Digital Sampler of LandScape

The tough stems of amethyst deceivers, Laccaria
amethystina, can be bent and their caps wavy edged.
THE WILD
MUSHROOM
HUNTER
Wayne Thomas uses his expert eye
to forage for edible fungi in the
woodlands of the Wye Valley
THE PALE AUTUMN sun casts its dappled
shadows across the leaf-covered floor of a Welsh
wood. Suddenly, the stillness is broken by a
rushed movement, the rustle of leaf matter, the
crackle of snapping branches and a flash of saddle
brown. With a Y-shaped stick in one hand, a wicker
basket in the other, mushroom forager Wayne Thomas
has spotted a suitable specimen.
The forest floor of this mixed woodland in the
Wye Valley Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty,
Monmouthshire, is still damp from recent rains.
Conditions are perfect for gathering edible fungi.
“Fungi are everywhere,” says Wayne, sweeping his
stick in an indicative arc around him. “Take a cubic
metre of woodland soil and there could more than 300
different types. Some are microscopic. It’s only when
they fruit and form mushrooms that we can see them.”
He kneels and points among the decaying leaves at
his feet. There, wiggling skyward in golden yellow and
orange clusters, are the unmistakable gilled caps of
peppery-tasting winter chanterelles. “Mushroom
hunting is about getting your eye in. When you know
what you’re looking for, it’s like entering a whole new
magical world,” he says. Carefully, he picks a handful
of the fungi and places them in his basket. The open
weave allows his finds to air and spread their spores as
he continues along his way.
Wayne points to the leaf litter no more than a few
feet away. “Those are amethyst deceivers,” he says,
referring to a delicate set with fluted caps and irregular
gills. “At their prime, they’re vivid purple, but over
time they lose their colour and turn creamy. They’re
edible, but fibre rich, so not one to over-indulge in.” ›
Wayne’s basket soon starts to fill with creamy-coloured
finds from the forest floor.
“The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants --
At Evening, it is not --
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop upon a Spot”
Emily Dickinson, ‘The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants’
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