A fungal crescendo is beginning

These fungal fruiting bodies easily pushed aside moss and twigs after accumulating the power and environmental cues to do so. Photo credit: Joern Rohde

During my mid-to-late summer forest wanderings, I was pleasantly surprised to find fresh Mycena species and lobster mushrooms (Hypomyces lactifluorum). These encounters sparked a desire to refresh my knowledge on the signals that our local fungi require to form a mushroom. 

Recall that when we admire a mushroom, we’re not actually seeing the whole organism. The mushroom is simply the reproductive structure—the “fruit”—of a much larger body called the mycelium. This subterranean web of thread-like filaments (hyphae) creep through soil, wood, and organic matter, tirelessly absorbing nutrients. For a mushroom to form, the mycelium must not only accumulate enough energy but also receive the right environmental signals. 

Temperature and rainfall act as the conductor, cueing our local fungi when it’s their turn to perform, aka “pop,” who would have guessed. . . . Significant drops in temperatures mean it’s time for the fungi to get reproducing before winter sets in. After a dry spell, when the mycelium has been quietly conserving energy, a soaking rainfall rehydrates the network. Cue the emergence of mushroom enthusiasts, who can be seen hitting the trails a day or two after heavy rain. 

Other factors influence fruiting as well. Nutrient availability matters, and some fungi are mycorrhizal, forming symbiotic relationships with plants; in other words, they’re working in harmony with each other. Fungal fruiting cycles are linked to the health of their host. The sugars from the tree is fuel for the fungus, and in return the tree gets a boost of water and essential minerals. A healthy, productive tree is necessary for the fungus to have enough energy to produce a mushroom. I believe this energy component is something we tend to forget about. 

Mushrooms are also surprisingly sensitive and attune to their surroundings. They detect and respond not only to temperature and moisture but also to light, toxins, and electrical fields. Like plants, they can “see” colours of light—but unlike plants, fungi also possess opsins, the same pigments found in animal eyes. Ooooooooo.

Of course, the mycelial network is not idle while waiting for perfect conditions. Living on organic matter, decomposer fungi are breaking down dead material and recycling the building blocks of our forests.

Climate change adds another layer of complexity to this fungal symphony. Studies have found that the timing of fungal fruiting has already shifted in response to climate change, with many species fruiting later in the fall or exhibiting reduced yields in warm, dry years (Kauserud et al., 2008; Diez et al., 2013). This means that the timing of classic Sea to Sky species may change as weather patterns become less predictable.

Ultimately, each mushroom that bursts from the forest floor is a marvel of timing and adaptation. Merlin Sheldrake writes in Entangled Life that some mushrooms, like stinkhorns, even grow with enough force to push through asphalt! What we are witnessing isn’t random—it’s a spore-tacular performance full of energy and power orchestrated by sophisticated underground networks that steadily help maintain the forest’s tempo year-round.

If you’re interested in experiencing the fungal diversity of our forests firsthand, mark your calendars for the 2025 Fungus Among Us Festival, which will take place October 17th–18th.

Written by: Chloe Van Loon

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