Fungi are remarkable organisms, essential for the recycling
of nutrients by breaking down detritus. Most of us recognise mushrooms
and toadstools – the fruiting bodies of many fungi – but we are less familiar with
the huge numbers of wind-borne spores that they produce. Should the spores land
in a suitable location, a complex mat of hyphae (threads that form the
mycelium) then spreads underground, or through other substrata, using enzymes
to digest organic matter and promote further growth. Mostly, the mycelium is also
a mystery to us, but we know that the fruiting bodies must have grown from something
because they don’t have roots. We can only speculate on how the fascinating life cycle of
fungi evolved [1] and how the hyphae became organised for their various
functions, including the rapid growth of fruiting bodies.
Last week, two unusual mushrooms appeared overnight on our
lawn. They were white, with white spore-bearing gills and each appeared to grow
from a bag-like structure around the base of the stem. They intrigued me sufficiently
to pick one and take photographs of it (see below). Like many of us, I am aware
that some mushrooms are highly toxic [1], so I treated the specimen I picked with
caution. Fortunately, our local garage has a free supply of plastic gloves to prevent
contact between hands and petrol, and I donned some of these (previously
purloined for use in the age of COVID-19) to avoid direct contact. Even so, I washed
my hands several times when I came back into the house (also a COVID-19 habit)
as I was sure there was a possibility it was one of the deadly forms [1].
I needed help with identification and put the images on the
Facebook page of the British Mycological Society. Fortunately, one of the members,
Geoffrey Kibby, a well-known expert, suggested that my mushroom might be a specimen
of Leucoagaricus leucothites that is common in lawns and which may cause
gastrointestinal upsets in some humans, but is considered edible by others [2].
It seems I was being over-cautious.
Being a romantic, I was fascinated by the common name of “our”
mushroom - the white dapperling – and that started me thinking once again about
the common names that we give organisms [3]. Fungi are a rich source of such
names and some are wonderfully descriptive, as a scan of any field guide will
show. Some common names are connected to folklore, as mushrooms and toadstools
have always fascinated us, and we have projected all manner of attributes to
different types. As a result, common names are easy to remember and are used
when we chat about mushrooms and toadstools, although many species are known
only by their official name. Here is an abbreviated list taken from two of the
best guides [4,5] together with the Latin binomial for each (some of which
change from time to time) [3]:
Old Man of the Woods – Strobilomyces
floccopus
Slippery Jack – Suillus luteus
Penny Bun – Boletus edulis
Slimy Spike Cap – Gomphidius glutinosus
Caesar’s Mushroom – Amanita caesarea
Death Cap – Amanita phalloides
Destroying Angel – Amanita virosa
The Blusher – Amanita rubescens
Stinking Parasol – Lepiota cristata
Amethyst Deceiver – Laccaria amethystea
Tawny Funnel Cap – Clitocybe flaccida
Clustered Tough Shank - Collibia
confluens
Poached Egg Fungus – Oudemansiella
mucida
Herald of the Winter – Hygrophorus
hypothejus
Curry-scented Milk Cap – Lactarius
camphoratus
The Charcoal Burner – Russula cyanoxantha
The Sickener – Russula emetica
Poison Pie – Hebeloma crustuliniforme
Lawyer’s Wig – Coprinus comatus
Fairies’ Bonnets – Coprinus disseminatus
Weeping Widow – Lacrymaria velutina
Chicken of the Woods – Laetiporus
sulphureus
Witches’ Butter – Exidia plana
Jelly Babies – Leotia lubrica
Great names for fascinating organisms, aren’t they?
P.S. I wonder where the fruiting body that produced the spores that resulted in "our" white dapperlings was located?
[3]
[4] Stefan Buczacki (1992) Mushrooms and Toadstools of Britain and Europe. London,
HarperCollins.
[5] Roger Phillips (1994) Mushrooms and other fungi of
Great Britain and Europe. London, Macmillan.
