Foraying Into the World of Fungi

Words by Maia Ingoe (She/her)
Illustrated by Lillias Ovenden-Carlyle (She/her) 

What makes a scientist? Is it a lab coat and a framed university degree? Or, does it look more like an enthusiast fumbling through their neighbourhood bush? A bookshelf filled with flora and fungi field guides, or maybe a phone camera roll with nothing but mushrooms?

Sometimes, science is lucky enough to drift out beyond peer-reviewed journals and into the lives of everyday people. This is the case for mycology, the study of fungi. 

Fungi enthusiasts might call themselves ‘mycophiles’ or ‘foragers’ if they’re hunting edible mushrooms, while others prefer ‘fungling’ or ‘foraying’ to describe venturing into the bush or street to photograph and admire fungi. While not scientists themselves, fungi enthusiasts contribute to the chronically understudied area of mycology through their passionate exploring. And thanks to social media, fungi enthusiasts can connect, learn, and engage with science easier than ever before.

I reckon the reason why fungi have captured the interest of so many people might be because they’re simply so damn cool. Fungi are elusive: the parts of them we see and photograph—mushrooms—are only spores.These fruiting bodies burst through the ground or rotting wood overnight, staying only a short while before disappearing again. 

Mushrooms are beautiful and varied, growing in bright blue of the Aotearoa native Werewere-Kōkako (Entoloma hochstetteri), the gumdrop orange of Hygrocybe waxcaps, the dark tumour-like Gerronema waikanaense. Some of them are delicious, with unique textures and tastes. Fungal spores can also be ugly and toxic: Myrtle rust (Austropuccinia psidii) is a plant-attacking fungus, and the black mould growing on your bathroom windowsill might be Stachybotrys chartarum, a toxic variety of microfungus. Some fungi combine their strengths with algae or bacteria, making species like lichen. And I’d be amiss to leave out the Psilocybe genus of fungi, those with psychedelic compounds.

All of these are only the fruiting bodies of fungi. The majority of the organism extends out from under the mushroom spore, in a vast underground network we call mycelium. Mycelia are the foundations of ecosystems, breaking down organisms and regenerating soil for new growth. Unlike plants, fungi don’t photosynthesise—they get their food from decomposition. Fungi are present at the beginning and end of the life cycle of every tree, plant, and animal. 

Everything we are currently learning about fungi’s place in the ecosystem is new. Scientists are still grappling to understand the range of services provided by mycorrhizal fungi, a kind of mycelium that swaps nutrients for carbon with trees, providing a communication network between plants. Information is constantly being contradicted and discoveries are still being made. In Aotearoa, approximately 7500 species of fungi have been identified, estimated to be only a third of our total biota. Globally, fungal species are estimated to be in the millions, and only about 120,000 have been discovered so far.

As an amateur mycologist, Shirley Kerr has a few discoveries to her name. She is the author of A Field Guide to New Zealand Fungi, featuring over 600 species of fungi that she has found, photographed and identified. In her library, she has another 30,000 photographs of fungi, not all of them yet identified.

“Once people start noticing fungi they get hooked up pretty easily. It’s like going down a rabbit hole,” Shirley said. When her fungi fascination began, Shirley was using film slides for her photographs. After a few years, she finally met other enthusiasts at a Fungi Foray: an annual five-day event organised by the Fungal Network of New Zealand (FUNNZ). At the Fungi Foray, professional mycologists, university professors, students, and amateur forayers meet to find and identify as many fungi as they can. “It’s not just for the nerds,” Shirley says with a grin.

Thanks to social media, budding enthusiasts don’t have to wait years to cross paths with professionals and those with similar interests. Facebook pages such as Mushroom Hunting New Zealand and Mushroom Photography New Zealand are platforms for sharing photographs and knowledge to identify fungi finds. “It’s done a huge amount for getting people interested in fungi,” Shirley says.

On Instagram, too, the hashtags #nzfungi and #fungiphotography reveal a plethora of amateur fungi photographers and foragers. @mycobugs’ feed features bursts of bright colour among greens and browns, a collection of diverse finds from fungling outings around Pōneke and Aotearoa. @blackforager, the account of Columbus-based Alexis Nikole, contains a flood of video content on edible fungi, foraged, and cooked up into delicious creations.

Liv Sisson’s day job in Ōtautahi has nothing to do with fungi. But on Instagram, her account A fungi(rl) in NZ (@liv_mosss), which has 15.6k followers, joyously documents her fungi foraging and recipes. Her social media account started as a field guide for herself and, eventually, her entire feed was overtaken by fungi. Liv is clear that her account is far from a scientific paper, but it brings mycology—what sometimes seems like an intimidating field—down to an everyday level where it’s easy and fun to engage with. “I’m not a mycologist, I’m not a scientist, I’m an extreme hobbyist and a massive enthusiast. So I use it to communicate in a way that’s really authentic to me,” Liv says.

While Liv has always had an interest in ecology, it was the unique diversity in Aotearoa that inspired her. Just like our birds, fungi have evolved here in an isolated landmass, resulting in incredibly unique biodiversity. Werewere-kōkako is an enduring fan favourite, featuring on our $50 note.We also have Tawaka (Cyclocybe parasitica), an edible native mushroom with a wide creamy cap and a thick veil covering the gills, and Tūtae Whetū, more commonly known as basket fungus (Ileodictyon cibarium) for how it blows up into a white netted ball. Take a look at the list of Aotearoa’s most endangered species, and you’ll notice that 49 of them are fungi. 

The edible mushrooms most commonly sought in foraging are introduced species such as the field mushroom (Agaricus campestris) and Porcini mushroom (Boletus edulis). Introduced fungi were stowaways, their spores hidden in the roots of trees brought here by European settlers who aimed to colonise Aotearoa’s landscape in the image of a British homeland. Many of these introduced species are now easily found in urban areas.

The best way to start foraging? “Go for a walk!” Liv says. “I think there's this perception that to go foraging, you've got to go to some really pristine, perfect, faraway landscape. But really, you can go foraging in your own garden, you can go foraging on your own street, it’s just a matter of putting that lens on and looking around and seeing what you find.” 

As well as field guides and social media, forayers have another tool up their sleeve: iNaturalist. iNaturalist is a free app that connects inquisitive people with those qualified to identify different species. You can upload photos of a mushroom or plant that you spotted on a walk, and within hours other users will have identified it.

Sometimes discoveries occur in the most unexpected places; walking home through Mount Vic in 2017, Te Papa scientist Laura Shephard noticed an odd puffball-like fungus. She uploaded it to 2017’s version of INaturalist, and it was identified as a sandy spitball (Battarrea phalloides)—it was the first time it had been recorded in Aotearoa.

By looking for fungi in our gardens, streets, and parks, we begin to see nature where we might not have noticed it before. It challenges our perception of the world as not just around us, but thriving below our feet. 

Māori have known this all along, foraging long before colonisation and European settlement. Mātauranga Māori views the environment as a whole and humans as a key part of it; kaitiakitanga, for example, is a mutually beneficial duty of care and guardianship between the environment and tangata whenua. In te ao Māori, the environment provides sustenance for people as well as having its own mana and mauri, so people take as well as give.

Aotearoa’s conservation mantra of ‘leave no trace’ is contradicted by Mātauranga Maori and the practice of foraging. In some contexts, however, we should consider whether something has more value staying rooted in rotting wood. At Zealandia ecosanctuary in Karori, a pekepeke-kiore or icicle tooth fungi (Hericium coralloides), an edible species, was thriving at the bottom of the Beech Track earlier this year before it was removed on 9 May, breaking the sanctuary’s rules.

“When it comes to foraging, I think it pushes us to go further than leave no trace and really think about what my relationship is to this land and fungi. How can I make that a reciprocal relationship rather than just to take?” asks Liv.

Next time you are walking through Te Aro, Mount Vic, or Kelburn, take a look at what's around your feet. The botanical gardens or Zealandia are prime fungi spots, but you don’t have to go far to search for fungi. They are growing all around us, just under the soil, weaving between the roots.