Mushrooms, a bag and poachers

The bag of morels was nice to see, but frankly I was more interested in the bag itself — what was the original plan for that?

But discretion being the better part of valor, I decided not to ask. At least someone found mushrooms.

Striking out on turkeys that morning wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I enjoyed the dawn chorus, the rose-breasted grosbeaks were especially active, visually and audibly. My four hours of acting like a mushroom at the base of an oak wasn’t in vain.

No one really goes home empty handed from a spell in the woods.

I rendezvoused with Joe. No turkey for him either but his morels were a worthy substitute — and a lot easier to clean. Now about that bag…

It’s an old saw that big bucks make men stupid. There are so many tales of outlandish and even illegal behavior in the blinding pursuit of a tall-racked deer. For the women hunters out there, I’m sure the feeling is mutual.

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Whether Nimrod or Diana, there are wild objects of desire that have the power to overcome judgment and reason. I think morel mushrooms are the springtime version of big bucks.

Brian invited me out to his timber to search for the spring’s edible offering sans chlorophyll. I was excited because he really knows his stuff. Poisoning myself is low on my list of ways to die.

We searched the north hills and the south hills. We negotiated in vain with the brambles and poked around countless trunks. All the likely spots yielded nothing.

It still was a nice time at any rate. The tom turkeys parading boldly augured good fortune for the time my turkey season would open in a couple of weeks, or so I thought.

As we ended our stroll we came to one of Brian’s trail cameras. He pulled the card so he could see the images when he put it into his computer at home. He attended to a couple of cameras on our walk out.

Brian was surprised and apologetic that we didn’t find any morels. The timing was right and we hit all the usual spots. Next time, huh?

Later, I got a text from Brian; it was a picture of sasquatch. Well, the picture reminded me of that celebrated grainy photo of some beast skulking through the bush.

At least now we had an answer for our fruitless search: poachers. The man caught on camera had a bag of mushrooms, Brian’s mushrooms.

Brian’s timber is well marked; Private Property and No Trespassing signs marked all the likely avenues of approach. Ah, but the vernal urge to five-finger the famous fungi was too much for that guy.

Turns out, Mr. Sasquatch was one of many trespassers on my friend’s land. Some of the uninvited noticed they were on camera and took it upon themselves to steal some cameras and break others to cover their tracks.

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I know what you’re thinking, “Call the warden!” But, you would be wrong. The violation was trespassing, and for that you’d need to call the sheriff. So I did that for this story.

Lieutenant Chris Smith, Assistant Commander of the Linn County Patrol Division, said that trespassing calls and violations were seasonal and most pronounced in December — the deer gun season.

The sonic boom of a shotgun or blaze orange clothing draws attention. He said mushroom poachers practiced a stealthy craft to hide their spots: get in and get out. Last year he said the sheriff’s office only wrote one or two violations.

A first offense trespassing citation plus court costs exceeds $400, a second offense pushes $800. Smith said if someone believes they have a trespasser, then call the sheriff to avoid altercations. He added that you don’t know someone’s intent or if they are carrying weapons, the deputies have the training to handle those situations.

When I got to talking to Brian about his morel moochers, he sent me a pile of pics of all sorts of trespassing transgressions. There were singletons and family groups. I saw someone riding a dirt-track motorcycle. There was another of a car driven up into the property, and so on.

A curious slice of Americana that might intrigue an anthropologist no doubt.

Joe was at the wheel, we were packed up and heading home from Davis county. His eagle eyes spied mushrooms in the right-of-way. “No way” I thought, but then I remembered who I was with.

Before I had my seatbelt off, Joe was climbing up the far side of the ditch. He was right, it was a grouping of oyster mushrooms. Their conspicuous color was obvious now. I took the pictures and Joe picked the mushrooms, and no one did anything wrong.

Looking up, looking ahead, and keeping my pencil sharp.

John Lawrence Hanson, Ed.D., of Marion, teaches Social Studies with an emphasis on environmental issues at Linn-Mar High School. He sits on the Marion Tree Board.