President’s Letter 1 New Books and a Computer added 5 by Jason Karakehian Cemetery Erections, by Lawrence Millman 7 Our Culinary Debt to the Fungi 9 by Maggie Iadanza Global Weirding, by Lawrence Millman 10 An Encounter with Cytidia salicina, 11 by Lawrence Millman Review of Giant Polypores & Stoned Reindeers 12 by Marshall Deutsch Who’s in a Name? XIV, by John Dawson 13 Mycology in the Media, by Marshall Deutsch 16 December 2013 Volume 68 No. 4
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December 2013 Volume 68 No. 4 · 2 It is remarkable that Wallace independently came up with this theory. But Wallace did a lot of remarkable things. He was an indomitable traveler
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President’s Letter 1
New Books and a Computer added 5
by Jason Karakehian
Cemetery Erections, by Lawrence Millman 7
Our Culinary Debt to the Fungi 9
by Maggie Iadanza
Global Weirding, by Lawrence Millman 10
An Encounter with Cytidia salicina, 11
by Lawrence Millman
Review of Giant Polypores & Stoned Reindeers 12
by Marshall Deutsch
Who’s in a Name? XIV, by John Dawson 13
Mycology in the Media, by Marshall Deutsch 16
December 2013 Volume 68 No. 4
1
President’s Letter
Dear Fellow Fungiphiles,
It’s December now, but I’d like to talk about an event of a month
ago: the 100th anniversary (on November 7th) of the death of an
admirable and amazing natural historian, Alfred Russel Wallace.
Wallace is best known for having independently formulated a theory of
the origin of species that was stunningly similar to Darwin’s. Like
Darwin, Wallace had travelled widely, collecting specimens and
observing plants and animals. Wallace had made long and arduous trips
to the Amazon (four years) and the Malay Archipelago (eight years).
Both Darwin and Wallace had read and been influenced by Malthus and
his thinking on overpopulation. Unlike Darwin, however, Wallace was
from a family impoverished by poor investing, and had not been able to
attend university. He supported his trips by collecting specimens for
wealthy individuals and institutions. And, unlike Darwin, whose Origin
of Species had one of the longest gestation periods in literary history (20
years), Wallace formulated his theory during a fevered dream in the
jungles of the Malay Archipelago, wrote it up in three days, and mailed
it off to the one person in England he was pretty sure would be
interested: Charles Darwin. He had no idea of just how interested
Darwin would be, but from the recipient’s viewpoint, Wallace might as
well have sent a letter bomb. After two decades of amassing data for his
magnum opus, Darwin had been scooped. However, unlike the
behavior of certain later scientists (fill in those names you’d like here; I
have my own candidates), both Darwin and Wallace behaved
magnanimously, and Wallace’s letter, along with early writings showing
Darwin’s independent origin of “Origin” were read at the same time to
the Royal Society. Darwin ensured that Wallace got credit and Wallace
recognized that Darwin’s patronage helped him enormously. And,
without the twenty years of data summarized in “Origin”, it’s likely that
Wallace’s theory would have been ignored.
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It is remarkable that Wallace independently came up with this
theory. But Wallace did a lot of remarkable things. He was an
indomitable traveler and worker under horrendous conditions. He
collected, preserved and transported over one hundred thousand
specimens despite theft, shipwreck, and the depredations of mold,
insects, etc. He was able to look at native peoples sympathetically and
without prejudice. He wrote, for example, that when one sees islands
with no government, no police, no law and no courts, without the
inhabitants cutting each others’ throats, it may suggest that the island is
undergoverned, but it equally suggests that Europe may be
overgoverned. In his most famous book, The Malay Archipelago (which is
well worth reading), he closed by stating that many of the advances in
science and technology made in England had led only to massive
fortunes accruing to a minority, while the condition of the majority of the
population has actually worsened. Alas, this sounds familiar to us in the
US today.
At this point you may quite justly be asking yourself why I am
talking about Wallace. I mean, he was a great guy, but what did he have
to do with fungi? In fact, Wallace barely mentioned fungi in his popular
works. I have been unable to find any mention of fungi, mushrooms, etc.
in the books of Wallace that I’ve seen, with the single exception of the
comparison of the effects of chewing certain native South American
plants to intoxication from Amanita muscaria. Not that my perusal has
been exhaustive, but I have tried. In fact, reading The Malay Archipelago,
one gets the impression of a teeming jungle inhabited by plants and
animals but with a total lacuna where the fifth kingdom should be.
What intrigued me (apart from my general admiration for Wallace) is an
article by David P. Hughes et al. entitled “Behavioral mechanisms and
morphological symptoms of zombie ants dying from fungal infections,”
which casually mentions in an aside that this phenomenon was first
noted in Sulawesi by A.R. Wallace (BMC Ecology 2011, 11:13). I couldn’t
even find Sulawesi in Wallace’s writings until I realized that in Wallace’s
day, Sulawesi was called Celebes. But I still couldn’t find the reference.
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When I followed up the mention in the Hughes article, I found that it did
not refer to any work of Wallace’s, but to an 1886 article by Fawcett that
had appeared in the Annals and Magazine of Natural History (5 XVIII):317,
should any of you wish to investigate further). Because this early
reference was published while Wallace was still alive (and only 63 years
old; hence in full force), I tend to think that it’s probably true, and
probably refers to travel notes that were not published in his books.
Perhaps Wallace thought that the general reader would not be interested
in fungi. But zombification (I think that’s a word) or “extended
phenotypes” as Hughes et al. refer to this phenomenon, is so dramatic
that even in an era less fixated on vampires, werewolves and zombies
than our own (Mr. Darcy: Zombie Slayer? Honestly!) a naturalist --
especially one as keen an observer as Wallace -- might well have noticed
the bizarrely suicidal behavior of ants whose brain cells have been
infiltrated by this parasitic fungus, which causes them to weave about
drunkenly, and then climb up a stalk (but only to a certain height) and
affix themselves to a leaf (but only one with a particular orientation) with
a death grip of their jaws, after which the fungus sends a stem up from
their cuticles, just behind the head, and then releases its spores. In fact,
after infection, the ant consists of the body of an ant with the brain of a
fungus. If that isn’t terrifying I don’t know what is.
The question in my mind now, requiring some real research in
Harvard’s archives, is whether there’s a cordyceps-type fungus for every
ant. (And not just ants -- this type of fungus infects other insect types as
well; we’re just starting to learn how many.) Ants are amazing creatures
and there are lots of them (E.O. Wilson, probably the world’s foremost
ant expert, estimates that the weight of ants on earth is more or less
equal to the weight of humans on earth, although I believe that the
current obesity epidemic is allowing us to pull ahead), and many types
of ants. It’s a rare decade that sees the discovery of a new mammalian
species, and a rare year that doesn’t see the discovery of new ant species.
We know that there are lots of undescribed ant species and Bert
Holldobler in his book The Ants suggests that the final count may exceed
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20,000 species. So my question is: are there as many species of
cordyceps-type fungi that infect ants, as there are species of ants? (To
say nothing of those that affect other groups of insects.)
And yes, I have been thinking of cordyceps-type fungi that
might infect humans. Who wouldn’t? Luckily, we’re more or less
immune (ringworm and athlete’s foot aside) due to our high body
temperatures. Only those poor souls with compromised immune
systems tend to get lethal fungal infections. But, if you were a lethal
fungus infecting humans with such immune systems, where would you
direct your zombified human to go, where your spores could be released
in the most promising environment? And for those of you who actually
enjoy reading about such things, I have two recommendations: a novel
so terrifying that I couldn’t finish it; Spiral by Paul McEuen (a Cornell
professor of physics who was clever enough to take advantage of Kathie
Hodge for his mycology), and “Summit Fever” a short, funny story by
BMC member Larry Millman, appearing in his (highly recommended)
new book, Giant Polypores and Stoned Reindeer: Rambles in Kingdom Fungi,
available from the author (coordinates in your roster), whom we hope to
feature in a forthcoming BMC program.
With hopes that you enjoyed a great foraging fall, and a
reminder to maintain a high body temperature, from your (occasionally)
ghoulish president,
Susan
P.S. After I wrote this, and not knowing that I’d written it, BMC member
Scott Ritter informed me that a TV series (“Grimm”) recently showed a
cordyceps-infected human (well . . . sort of human. Actually a were-
wolf). Here’s the key scene: “he unbuttons his shirt to reveal something
is writhing within his gut. He starts to ascend a tree, where he volks
[transforms] into a Blutbad [man-wolf], and his stomach bursts open in a
mist of gore.” If you read “spores” for “gore,” I’m right on trend.
5
New Books and a Computer Added to the Club
Library
Jason Karakehian
BMC Librarian/Archivist
Seven books have been added to the club library and are briefly
described here. In addition, the author’s family donated a used one-
year-old PC laptop which runs on Windows 7. The Harvard University
Herbaria have generously donated access to their wi-fi. This addition
will allow participants at Monday night identification sessions to search
for online taxonomic resources and facilitate creating lists of fungi found
and identified at each session.
The books:
The Kingdom of Fungi by Jens H. Petersen. Hardcover. See
Lawrence Millman’s review “An Instant Classic” in the Boston
Mycological Club Bulletin of June 2013, Vol. 68, No. 2, pp. 13-14.
Dictionary of the Fungi 10th Edition by Paul M. Kirk, Paul. F.
Cannon, David W. Minter. Paperback. This comprehensive
tome defines every mycological term you can think of. Among
other helpful things in this book you can look up a genus and
learn the number of species currently within it and get references
for literature. Definitions of textures, shapes and colors are
given. The down side? All the definitions that refer to a figure
do not then tell you what page that figure is on! Nevertheless an
invaluable book – keep it on hand while keying out your finds.
Fungal Families of the World by Paul F. Cannon and Paul M. Kirk.
Hardcover. Color pictures of fruiting bodies, thalli, and
distinctive microscopic characters of many important fungal
families. Literature references and descriptions are very helpful.
Illustrated Dictionary of Mycology 2nd Edition by Miguel Ulloa and
Richard T. Hanlin. This is a gorgeous expanded version of the
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very useful first edition. Again – keep this one on hand while
keying out your specimens!
Tricholomas of North America: A Mushroom Field Guide by Alan E.
Bessette, Arleen R. Bessette, William C. Roody and Steven A.
Trudell.
Ascomycetes in Colour: Found and Photographed in Mainland Britain
by Peter I. Thompson. Only use will attest to the true usefulness
of this recent addition to taxonomic literature of Ascomycetes,
but this book seems to have some promise. It illustrates and
describes over 700 species and is affordably priced if not
glamorous in comparison to Petersen’s The Kingdom of Fungi
which manages to be both. Occasionally the photographs are
underexposed or the subjects not sufficiently magnified.
Accompanying some descriptions of species are simple
drawings of single spores or other microscopic features. The
author explains his methodology in a plain and readable style
and provides a concise glossary and keys to species for each
genus. A handy feature is a table which cross references the
species treated here (by number) with descriptions in other
taxonomic works: including British Ascomycetes by R.W.G.
Dennis, Fungi of Switzerland vol. 1 by J. Breitenbach & F. Kranzlin,
Microfungi on Land Plants and Microfungi on Miscellaneous
Substrates by Ellis & Ellis, and Ascomiceti d’Italia by G. Medardi.
North American Boletes: A Color Guide to the Fleshy Pored
Mushrooms by Alan E. Bessette, Arleen R. Bessette and William
C. Roody. This additional copy was purchased to meet demand
at Monday night ID sessions.
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Cemetery Erections
Lawrence Millman
Beatrix Potter could not find the courage to draw one. Charles
Darwin's daughter Etty destroyed all the specimens she could find, "lest
they corrupt the morals of the maids." If you happen to visit the old
cemetery in Reykjavik, Iceland this fall, you'll probably find several of
the phallic-looking objects in question thrusting up from the ground and
smelling like ripe carrion.
Oh well, you might think, at least they died happy.
The presumably happy objects are fungi rather than the virile
members of dead male Icelanders. Specifically, they're fungi that have
the not inappropriate Latin name of Phallus impudicus. The Icelandic
name, fylubollur, is just as appropriate -- it means "stinky male genitals."
The English name is Common Stinkhorn.
The Common Stinkhorn is not common in Iceland. Indeed, the
only place where it's been documented thus far is the old Reykjavik
cemetery. Fear not: it's not interfering with the eternal rest of a
prominent Icelander by digesting him or her. Rather, it's digesting
wood chips and woody debris in the vicinity of the graves.
The stinkhorn starts as a white entity known as an egg. At the
right time, the egg will break with a sound that French botanist Jean
Bulliard compared to a pistol shot, and then the phallic part will emerge.
In an hour or two, the fungus will reach full height. Reputedly, its
growth is so dramatic that it can lift up 150 kg of asphalt. (Note: My
own ability in this regard would probably be around 35 to 40 kg of
asphalt.)
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The carrion-like smell comes from the gleba, a coating of green
mucus at the top of the fungus. This smell, which is usually offensive to
people, is irresistible to flies. And that's the point: the gleba houses the
fungus's spores. Flies land on it and either eat the spores or carry them
off on their feet, thus creating the possibility of another stinkhorn
generation, since those spores contain the genetic material that's needed
to create more stinkhorns.
The first Icelandic stinkhorns were documented as recently as
1990. But the species has existed elsewhere for millennia. In Europe, it
was believed to have aphrodisiac powers, giving the men who ate it
powerful erections. It was also used to cure rheumatism, epilepsy, gout,
and skin cancer. In certain tropical countries, the gleba was spread on
young women on the assumption that it would make them fertile.
I know what you're thinking, and -- yes -- Phallus impudicus is edible,
but only in egg stage. In that stage, the egg's raw contents were once
picked and used to flavor sausages in Germany. In France, those same
raw contents are still eaten as what a friend, a connoisseur of French
cuisine, would call a "dainty." I've tried P. impudicus myself and found
that it had a not unpleasant radishy flavor.
But I don't recommend that you collect the fungus for the table
or the medicine cabinet. Nor do I recommend that you collect it so that
you can show it to your friends and have them say "gross." Instead,
simply admire it. And, if you do in fact happen to be in Iceland, let it
continue its life as a citizen in good standing (so to speak) in Reykjavik's
oldest cemetery.
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Our Culinary Debt to the Fungi
Maggie Iadanza
● Edible Fruiting Bodies – Wild or cultivated, we love ‘em just as they
are (well-cooked, naturally) or in a variety of yummy dishes.
● Breads – We are all familiar with breads leavened with yeast
(Saccharomyces cerevisiae) that consumes simple sugars and excretes
carbon dioxide and alcohol to develop the gluten, giving bread its
texture and flavor.
● Cheeses – Think of the blue cheeses: Camembert, Roquefort,
Gorgonzola (Penicillium roqueforti and Penicillium glaucum). Don’t forget
Brie with its rind of off-white mold (Penicillium candidum, Penicillium
camemberti, or Brevibacterium linens).
● Sauces - Both soy sauce and miso require the use of Aspergillus oryzae
which ferments to produce the final product.
● Tempeh – Tempeh usually begins with whole soybeans, which are
soaked, dehulled and cooked. A fermentation starter containing the
spores of fungus Rhizopus oligosporus is mixed in. The beans are allowed
to ferment. In good tempeh, the beans are knitted together by a mat of
white mycelium.
● Quorn – Quorn is a brand of mycoprotein extracted from the fungus
Fusarium venenatum. Glucose is added as a food for the fungus, as are
vitamins and minerals to improve the food value of the meat substitute.
● Corn Smut – A delicacy in Mexico, where it is known as huitlacoche,
corn infected by Ustilago maydis has kernels with large, distorted tumors
similar to mushrooms.
● Chocolate – Candida krusei, Geotrichum, and Acaulospora scrobiculata are
three fungi needed for making chocolate. Cacao beans must be
fermented (partially decayed), to remove the bitter taste and break down
the beans. Tom Volk has a detailed explanation of how fungi are
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necessary for both the growth of the cacao tree and the manufacture of
chocolate.
● Beverages – Last but not least, fungi are used to ferment beverages,
e.g., Aspergillus niger is used to ferment sugars into citric acid, which is
used in many soft drinks. In both beer or wine, yeasts such as
Saccharomyces cerevisiae are grown in a source of sugars (the grain or
grapes) in the absence of oxygen gas; the lack of oxygen forces yeasts to
switch to fermentation and they convert the sugars to ethanol.