What are the impacts of gathering wild mushrooms? Since mushrooms are the “fruit” of inconspicuous fungal mycelia that often live for many years, picking them has been compared to removing berries from a bush: no harm is done so long as the environment that supports the fungus is not disrupted and some mushrooms are left to shed their spores. (Many actually shed spores before being picked.)
While this analogy is a fairly good one, conditions have changed: mushroom hunting has become a popular pastime, and there has been a dramatic increase in the commercial harvest of certain species, primarily for export to Japan (matsutake) and Europe (chanterelles and morels). The matsutake harvest is of special concern because of the high prices paid for unopened “buttons” that have yet to form spores, and the manner in which some pickers rake or otherwise disturb the humus or moss in their search for the buried buttons.
Some concerned individuals have invoked the spectre of species extinction, believing that commercialization inevitably results in the degradation or “rape” of the landscape. But comparing mushrooms to trees, buffalo, or whales (as alarmists often do) is bad biology. Loggers don’t harvest trees from the same stump year after year. When you kill a whale, you are eliminating that organism and all its potential progeny from the environment. But when you pick a mature wild mushroom, you may actually aid spore dispersal by toting it around; and if the plucked mushroom hasn’t yet shed spores, at least the organism that produced it is still there, capable of producing more mushrooms in the future.
Ongoing studies bear this out. They show that picking all the mushrooms has no adverse impact on future crops in that area, and may even have a slight stimulating effect. However, there are no studies that measure the ability of a species’ spores to colonize new locations. Established mycelia, or “mushroom patches,” that continue to produce mushrooms for many years could actually mask the reduced recruitment that overharvesting might cause. There are other concerns as well, for instance, the impact of intensive harvest on genetic diversity, and on the forest food web. But often missing is a realistic perspective on the most significant danger to mushrooms and virtually everything else alive: destruction of habitat. Instead, anger is directed at commercial mushroom pickers, most of whom are poor, unorganized, and much more visible and vulnerable than some of the larger and more powerful entities that degrade habitat.
Obviously, it is impossible to determine the long-term impacts of mushroom hunting in the short term. But we can take some comfort from the fact that intensive mushroom harvest is not new. It feels new to us because we live in a fungophobic culture that until recently did not pay much attention to mushrooms. But there is a very long and colorful history of intensive mushroom gathering around the world: from Italy to Russia, Siberia, China, Japan, Thailand, Kashmir, Turkey, Mexico, Chile, Morocco, Zimbabwe, etc., edible mushrooms are still plentiful where there is healthy habitat to support them. (As I write this, the price for dried boletes has been depressed by a bumper crop from eastern Europe.) This suggests that there is no reason to panic, and that if long-term studies do reveal adverse impacts, it will be possible to soften or eliminate them by modifying collecting practices once the effects are known.
There are those who advocate a more “conservative” approach: that of prohibiting or severely restricting mushroom picking until it can be “proven” harmless in the long term. But what is deemed conservative by these people is perceived as radical by those whom it affects. In the absence of demonstrated harm, such restrictions exact a high social cost because they seem arbitrary and mean-spirited. In other words, the largely urban-suburban vision of nature as a beautiful, peaceful refuge from the stresses and conflicts of civilization, is in fundamental conflict with the rural or less “civilized” perception of nature as a provider of sustenance and wealth. Therein lies a great irony: it is the cities that suck food, energy, and resources from the landscape, yet there is a long and tragic history of industrial and agricultural peoples persecuting “savage” outsiders (in the most literal sense of the word) who hunt and gather.
Increased competition for mushrooms is another source of friction. Although this is a territorial issue, some amateur pickers and mushroom clubs have tried to frame it as a moral one, claiming that they love mushrooms while commercial pickers only love money. But in my experience, both groups of people love mushrooms, and everybody loves — or at least needs — money. In fact, I am more impressed by similarities between the two groups. There are differences, particularly in economic class, but both groups share a passion for mushrooms and an impressive knowledge of the natural world; both are fascinated by the challenge of finding mushrooms and “figuring them out”; and both groups have an obvious stake in the sustainability of what they do. Rather than spending precious energy complaining about commercial pickers, noncommercial mushroom hunters have more to gain by exchanging knowledge and information with them.
Because many land managers and public officials are unable or unwilling to distinguish between commercial and noncommercial pickers, branding commercial pickers as “money grubbers” and “rapists” has tended to tar all mushroom hunters. The result has been a flood of ill-conceived regulations that severely restrict or ban the gathering of mushrooms on public lands, even for personal use. In much of California mushroom hunting is now virtually illegal, and an amateur picker from Oregon reflects a growing sentiment when she says: “I feel much more oppressed by government overregulation than by commercial pickers.”
Land managers and rangers can be very territorial, and some seem to regard the plucking of a mushroom as an environmental sin on a par with felling a tree or shooting a pelican. No doubt the admonition to “take only photographs, leave only footprints,” is desirable in certain sensitive or pristine areas. But it is inappropriate in most situations because it is a fundamental denial of who we are: creatures of the earth whose most ancient heritage (or birthright, if you will) is foraging for food in the forest.
This enforced separation of human being from the natural world can only undermine support for the public acquisition and protection of habitat. The more we view the forests and fields as a resource — one that yields, among other gifts, a beautiful, delicious, valuable, and renewable mushroom crop — the more likely we are to cherish that resource. Protecting habitat for aesthetic reasons alone lends credence to the argument that a few widely scattered parks are enough. But harvesting a sustained yield of mushrooms, fish, and other wildlife creates a quantitative demand for habitat on top of a qualitative one. For this reason I believe we should strongly encourage foraging for mushrooms. It is a relatively benign use of our forests that can foster a powerful love and need for the natural world, and increase our stake in protecting and enhancing it.
Western North America has a rich and diverse mushroom bounty that can be gathered and enjoyed by thousands. Obviously, it should be managed in a way that ensures sustained yield and a healthy forest ecosystem. But an enlightened policy requires a wealth of data that can only be accumulated with research, over time. What do we do in the meantime?
First, we should acknowledge the value and desirability of mushroom hunting by allowing it on most public lands, whether for research, pleasure, or profit. There should be some parks where picking is not allowed; there should also be some public lands that allow limited gathering for personal use but are off-limits to commercial collecting.
Second, mushroom hunters and non-mushroom hunters alike should refrain from trying to restrict the activities of others for ideological reasons alone, or without clear evidence that what others are doing is harmful.
And third, as individuals we should be gentle with the forest. Don’t leave an unsightly trail of trash behind, but do leave some mushrooms for those who follow in your footsteps. You may be one of them!