Duncan Reid
Why hedgerows are the best place to begin
Scotland's hedgerows are a fine training ground for a new forager. They sit close to home, they can be walked in an afternoon, and because they are a mix of native shrubs, old trees and grassy verges, they hold a surprising range of fungi. You have dead wood in the shape of fallen branches and crumbling elder stumps, leaf litter at the base of the hedge, and damp shaded banks. All of that is habitat.
There is a practical advantage too. You can walk the same length of hedge every week from late summer through to the first hard frost and watch the same patch change. That habit — repeated, unhurried visits — is where the learning happens. Slow outdoor living is not about finding a basketful on your first outing. It is about getting to know one place properly.
Know where you may pick, and what is expected of you
In Scotland, access rights allow you to be on most land responsibly, and picking a modest amount of wild fungi for your own kitchen is generally accepted. Those rights come with firm boundaries, though.
- Never pick for commercial gain. Selling wild mushrooms needs permission from the landowner and is not covered by general access rights.
- Stay out of protected sites, nature reserves and sites of special scientific interest, where fungal communities may be actively studied or fragile. Ask before you assume.
- On farmland, ask. A friendly word at the farmhouse costs nothing and prevents a great deal of ill feeling.
- Take only what you will eat, from a patch you can visit again, and never strip a site.
- Leave no trace: close gates, keep dogs under control, do not climb drystone dykes, and take your litter home.
Six hedgerow species worth getting to know
Learn a handful of distinctive species thoroughly rather than dozens vaguely. These are all widespread in Scotland and all have a characteristic that makes them easier to pin down.
- Jelly ear — rubbery, ear-shaped, brown, and found on elder almost year-round. It rehydrates in rain and cooks into a pleasant, slightly crunchy addition to stir-fries. Always cook it.
- Velvet shank — a winter species on dead wood, with an orange-brown cap and a stem that is dark and velvety towards the base. It grows in tufts in cold weather.
- Oyster mushroom — pale grey to white shelves on dead or dying wood, with gills running down the stem, and a faint smell of aniseed. Look for it in autumn and mild winters.
- Giant puffball — a football-sized white sphere in grassland and along field edges. Cut it open: the inside must be pure, uniform white, like a marshmallow. Any yellowing or greenish tinge means leave it.
- Shaggy ink cap — a tall white cylinder with shaggy scales, growing on verges and disturbed ground. It must be eaten very fresh; within hours it dissolves into black ink. Avoid alcohol entirely on the day you eat any ink cap.
- Hedgehog fungus — instead of gills, the underside is covered in soft spines like a hedgehog's back. It has a fruity, apricot-like scent and grows among leaf litter at woodland edges and along hedge banks.
The lookalikes that should stop you in your tracks
Every good edible has a double, and a few of those doubles are lethal. Learn the dangerous ones first — it is the safest order in which to learn anything.
- Deathcap and destroying angel. Pale, elegant, with a ring on the stem and a cup-like volute at the base. They account for most fatal mushroom poisonings worldwide. Never dig up a pale mushroom without checking the base carefully.
- Funeral bell. A brown, tufted species on wood that can be mistaken for velvet shank. It is seriously toxic.
- Brown roll-rim. Common, unremarkable and now known to cause dangerous immune reactions in some people, sometimes after years of eating it unharmed. Leave it alone.
- Earthballs. Firm, warty and often yellowing inside, and easily confused with young puffballs. Poisonous.
- Sulphur tuft. Bright yellow-green clumps on dead wood. Toxic, and a frequent beginner's mistake.
Golden rules of identification
Identification is not a guess that happens to be right. It is a set of checks that you complete every single time.
- Note the habitat and, where relevant, the tree it is growing on or beside. Many species are tied to a particular host.
- Look at the whole mushroom: cap, gills or pores or spines, stem, ring, and the very base.
- Cut one in half lengthways and check for colour changes.
- Take a spore print on white paper.
- Smell it. Some species are unmistakable on scent alone.
- Photograph it in place before you pick it.
- Cross-check with at least two good field guides, not one.
- Learn one new species at a time, and eat only a small portion the first time.
- If you are less than completely certain, leave it where it is. No mushroom is worth the risk.
Kit, habits and the slow part
A wicker basket or a paper bag lets spores drop through and keeps your finds from sweating; plastic bags turn them to slime. Take a small knife, a soft brush, a hand lens, a notebook and a decent set of waterproofs. In late summer, add a midge net and check yourself for ticks when you get home.
When you harvest, twist and lift or cut cleanly, then press the litter back down. Leave the older specimens to release their spores and never take more than a third of what you find in one patch. Cook everything thoroughly, and keep one raw specimen in the fridge until you know you have eaten safely — if you do fall ill, it helps enormously to have the mushroom to hand.
Then there is the part that matters most. Sit on a gate, drink your flask, and watch the light move through the hedge. You will learn more about fungi by returning to one quiet corner through a whole season than by chasing rarities across the country — and you will enjoy it far more.
