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Mary Elizabeth Banning: the Story Behind a Mushroom

Mary Elizabeth Banning's watercolor illustration of the mushroom now named after her.

Amanita banningiana, or Mary Banning’s Slender Caesar, is a common summer mushroom, and one of the few dozen Amanitas distinctive enough to be identified by sight. It belongs to the section Caesarea, so named because the European type species Amanita caesarea featured in Roman cuisine.¹

What tends to set this section apart from other Amanitas is the sack-like, “saccate” to be technical, volva at the base. These mushrooms look like they are emerging from an egg. They also tend to have yellow-tinted stems and gills, and no patches on their cap. The patches on other Amanita mushrooms (such as the fly agaric) are kind of like egg-shells from the shattered universal veil. But in the case of Caesar mushrooms the veil remains relatively intact at the base of the mushroom so there are no patches on the cap.

What is really interesting about this mushroom though, is the story behind its name. Mary Elizabeth Banning was an early American mycologist and illustrator, known for The Fungi of Maryland, a manuscript containing 174 watercolor illustrations of local fungi. Had it been published, it would have been an enormous leap forward for the American mycology of the time, but unfortunately it sat in a drawer for 91 years after her death, only to be unearthed in 1981.

Mary Elizabeth Banning was the first to describe what is now called Amanita banningiana, but she did not consider it its own species. Rather she described it as a variant of the European Amanita caesarea mentioned above. You can compare her watercolor illustration above with the photographs below.

I wish more was known about her life. We know that after her father died (when she was 23) she was responsible for taking care of her mother and chronically ill sister, and that hiking became a release from the stultifying atmosphere of home. We know that although The Fungi of Maryland was never published, she did publish several papers in the Botanical Gazette of the 1880s in which she described 23 previously unknown fungi, and that despite this, and being probably the foremost expert in her region, she faced considerable skepticism and hostility from the scientific establishment of the day. Though by the time she died she was virtually penniless, she came from “an elite plantation family,” which probably at least partially explains how she was able to devote herself to science despite zero financial support from the scientific community. For the most thorough treatment of her life see: Mary Elizabeth Banning , MSA SC 3520-13591 (maryland.gov)

Below are several more of her illustrations (available online here) paired with photos I’ve taken of the same mushrooms. As someone who photographs mushrooms, I find it very interesting to compare the sometimes unintended insights of photography with the more conscious creations of the illustrator.

Banning’s illustration of “Old Man of the Woods,” whose scientific name is now *Strobilomyces strobilaceus*

To have been an early American mycologist must have been an exhilarating and simultaneously despairing experience. Fungi are bewildering even today with technologies such as gene sequencing, photography, widely available field guides, and online resources like iNat and Mushroom Observer. The early American mycologists, by contrast, had next to nothing to go by. Which might also have made things less confusing…

Perhaps because there was no greater authority than their own firsthand experience, that firsthand experience had a greater reality, a sense not only of observing, but of creating. On the other hand, help was close to non-existent, at least in your immediate surroundings. Such was the case for Mary Elizabeth Banning, who corresponded for 30 years with Charles Peck (the so-called “Dean of American Mycologists”) but never met him. At the time she was working, there was no widely available illustrated guide to American fungi¹. Perhaps this helped her to see the world with her own eyes, but it must have also been very discouraging work.

*Amanita rubescens*, the “blusher.” One of the few edible amanitas (not recommended), as Banning notes.

For more information/sources see:

A Black Widow and other things I’ve seen in June

Black widows are one of those species whose name travels far ahead of their actual presence, so it was neat to actually see with my own eyes something I’d heard so much about. After seeing one I did some research and learned that though highly poisonous, a bite from a black widow is not so lethal as I had thought. Black widows do not inject poison every time they bite, and even when they do, more often than not, a bite leads to nothing more that localized pain. About 25% of cases involve more severe symptoms, but even these usually self-resolve over the course of hours to several days. It has been decades since someone died of a black widow bite in the United States¹.

Speaking of widows, a common May/June mushroom is Lacrymaria lacrymabunda the weeping widow. This mushroom has beautifully rich and mottled gills.

Another very common June mushroom is Ductifera pululahuana (the “White Jelly Fungus”) whose long melodious scientific name comes from the town in Equator where it was first described².

The “white jelly fungus” is not to be confused with the “white jelly mushroom” or Tremella fuciformis, which is more translucent and deserves it’s own post another time. It is also common in June, and to keep it distinct from the White Jelly Fungus, I prefer the name “Snow Fungus,” which I’ve also seen used.

Another recent find is pictured below. Full disclosure, I’m not sure what this is, but my best guess is that it is a slime mold belonging to the genus Ceratiomyxa. If you know, let me know!

Another exciting find (totally unrelated to the above) has been pawpaw fruit. I’ve seen more pawpaw trees than I can count, but this is the first time I’ve seen the famous fruit. It seems like it has a month or so to go before edibility. What are the chances I’ll get there before the squirrels?

Lastly, I’ve seen a lot of eastern box turtles, which is probably a good thing as they are considered vulnerable. By “a lot” I mean five or six in the past three weeks, one of which I had to slam on the breaks to avoid killing. When they don’t get run over by cars, or killed by diseases, box turtles can live to be a hundred years old…

The Ohio Buckeye

The Ohio Buckeye is a distinctively Midwestern tree, so much so that “buckeye” became a kind of metonym for the region and the early Anglo-American settlers thereof. The name “buckeye” itself needs explanation. The most commonly given one is that the shiny brown fruits resemble the eyes of a buck.

The Ohio Buckeye belongs to the genus Aesculus (commonly called Buckeyes and Horse-chestnuts) but it has no relation either to the ancient Greek playwright or the true chestnuts. In fact, it is in the same family as maples (which explains why they both have opposite branching), while chestnuts are part of the Beech family (which explains why Beech nuts look kind of like little chestnuts).

Buckeye nuts are poisonous because they contain lots of tannic acid. Interestingly though, tannic acid is approved by the FDA for use in “baked goods and baking mixes, alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, frozen dairy products, soft and hard candy, meat products, and rendered animal fat.¹” Some Native Americans blanched buckeyes to remove the tannic acid (which can be used to make leather and to poison fish in streams) and then ate them².

The distinctive identifying features of the Ohio Buckeye are the opposite branching, and the palmate leaves. Palmate meaning that several leaves radiate out from a single point, like fingers from a palm. They are one of the very first trees to leaf out in spring,

Ohio Buckeyes have ashy white bark and are typically found along streams or in fairly wet soil.

They do have a few close relatives in the area. Most similar is the Yellow Buckeye, which has spineless seed capsules, in Indiana is only found in a couple counties along the Ohio River, and has slightly different flowers. Buckeye flowers appear in large showy clusters. In the Ohio Buckeye, the stamens stick out beyond the petals (as below), where as the Yellow Buckeye’s do not.

Flowers just beginning to open. Notice the stamens sticking out beyond the petals.

Close relatives you might find grown ornamentally are the Horse Chestnut (native to the Balkans, and one of the most common street trees in Europe) and the Red Buckeye. The Red Buckeye has beautiful pink/red flowers. It is native to this region, but it is more of a shrub than a full-scale tree like the Yellow and Ohio Buckeyes.

One other thing about the Ohio Buckeye. It is said to stink. It is called the “fetid buckeye” to distinguish it from the “sweet buckeye” aka the Yellow Buckeye. In my experience it doesn’t actually smell all that bad, at least compared to other stinking trees such as Tree of Heaven. But this could be something that varies seasonally or regionally (or based on the olfactory sensitivity of the smeller).

Ohio Buckeye – Winter Bud. Towards spring this will swell and become sticky.

Mushroom Report: The Veiled Polypore

I’ve talked about “veiled” mushrooms on this blog before, but the veiled polypore, Cryptoporus volvatus, is different. Usually, a mushroom’s veil helps protect the gills while it is maturing, but then disintegrates when the mushroom is ready to spread its spores. After all, permanently enclosing your spore bearing surfaces makes no sense as it prevents your spores from getting out and propagating.

With the veiled polypore however, the veil does not disintegrate. It is made of much firmer stuff than the typical loose sheathing. So how do the spores get out?

**I’ve crushed the veil to reveal the spore bearing surface inside. But why block your spores in with a wall?**

To answer this question we need to know a little bit more about the ecology of this fungus. The veiled polypore grows on pine trees that have been infested with pine beetles. In fact, Cryptoporus volvatus can be used as an indicator species for pine beetle presence. In the early to mid 20th century it was common to plant large stands of pine to prevent soil erosion and harvest quick timber. The problem was that one, most of these pines were planted too closely together, making them unhealthy, and two, these stands were monocultures. These two factors combined to make these stands extremely vulnerable to pine beetles (and hence also to the veiled polypore).

**Notice the holes pine beetles have bored to reach the sapwood.**

So, how does this explain the veiled polypore’s spore distribution method? Well, the veiled polypore does not rely on wind for spore dispersal, like most species of fungi, instead it uses pine beetles as spore vectors. The veiled polypore essentially creates a protected nest for the pine beetles. The veil insures the temperature and humidity inside are just right for the beetles. The beetles thus get covered in spores which they carry into the sapwood when they are feeding. There is a small puncture in the veil which allows the beetles in and out. It’s a win-win for both beetle and fungus, and a billion dollar curse for the timber industry.

So there you have it, the interesting story behind a rather drab fungus.

For more info and pictures check out: https://www.forestfloornarrative.com/blog/2018/2/23/fungi-friday-the-veiled-polypore-cryptoporus-volvatus

Mimic Flies and Crayfish: Recent Discoveries

Today looking at a part of the natural world I often overlook: the invertebrates. In particular, I’ve recently learned about two fairly different sets of invertebrates: mimic flies and burrowing crayfish.

Mimic flies, also known as hoverflies or flower flies, are an incredible family. They are typically black and yellow, fly from flower to flower feeding on pollen and nectar, and buzz very much like bees—but they aren’t. Their strong resemblance, however, buys them protection from predators who mistakenly believe they sting.

The resemblance is remarkable. Consider this Bare-eyed Bee-mimic fly from a couple weeks ago.

Without knowing there were such a thing as mimic flies, I assumed this to be a bumblebee, but a side by side comparison reveals a number of fairly clear differences.

https://www.openaccessgovernment.org/bumble-bees-need-biodiversity/81996/

One, the fly on the left has large, compound eyes, while bumblebees have much smaller eyes (not particularly visible in the picture). Two, the mimic fly has very short antennae, while the bumblebee has longer ones. Three, and not all that easy to see, the fly has one set of wings, while the bee has two. And lastly, the abdomen of the mimic fly is smooth black rather than the fuzzy black and yellow of the bee.

Just goes to show you can’t see what you don’t know to look for.

Burrowing crayfish are another fact I’d overlooked until recently. I’d noticed the “chimneys” before, but it never occurred to me that they could be crayfish. Crayfish I’d always associated with the bottom of lakes. What would a crayfish be doing on land?

It turns out, however, that some species of crayfish do live on land and create burrows as a way of finding water and hiding from predators. Crayfish breathe through gills. Under humid conditions, there is enough water in the air that they can breathe on land just as they would underwater. However, in dry conditions they will be unable to breathe. To solve this problem, and guarantee themselves a source of humidity, crayfish dig burrows down to the water table. Typically, burrowing crayfish live in the vicinity of surface water, so they only have to dig a couple feet to reach ground water.

What is interesting about crayfish burrows is that it is hard to imagine how they make them. Pincers seem like they would be good for a lot of things, but not making little pellets of mud.

Crayfish can find just as much food in your lawn as they can on the bottom of a lake. Despite their aggressive-looking claws, are actually detritivores, meaning they eat detritus, primarily decaying leaves. In this respect, they are not so different from the fungi I usually write about.

Some people are willing to stick their hands down into the burrows to catch crayfish—crayfish noodling, Check it out. I will not be doing this anytime soon, but at least now I know what is down there.

More info and sources:

3 Things You Might Find While You’re Looking for Morels

Morel hunting can be tough going. It’s the perfect place at the perfect time…and there’s nothing doing. Luckily, there’s a lot more going on in morel season than just morels. Adding a couple other things to your repertoire can salvage an otherwise disappointing hunt.

To start with, a mushroom you will almost certainly find if you are looking in the right place for morels (around dead elm trees): Dryad’s Saddle aka Pheasant Back. When fresh, this is a great find. It smells like watermelon rind, which is pretty cool for a mushroom. I peel off the porous undersurface and just cook the flesh cut into thin strips, which is honestly above average, I would say. Pretty much equal to your supermarket mushrooms for flavor and texture.

What gives Dryad’s Saddle a less than glamorous reputation is the fact that it sticks around well past its prime. You’ll find bug-ridden and inedible Dryad’s Saddle year round—but don’t judge the mushroom based on those specimens.

To identify Dryad’s Saddle you want to look for a pored mushroom growing from dead wood, tan with darker brown scales (somewhat resembling a pheasant…if you’ve ever managed to see one). What’s interesting is that it seems to have a preference for decomposing elm trees, which is convenient for morel hunters to say the least.

Very young Dryad’s saddle looking like a perfectly done marshmallow. Notice the American Elm seed below it.

Second, and not a mushroom, are ramps. Ramps, or Allium tricoccum,(or “wild leek”) are fairly trendy at the moment—and for good reason. They taste great with all kinds of things lightly sautéed in butter. Ramps have a big cultural following in Appalachia, especially it seems in West Virginia, where you can find ramp-eating contests, cook offs, and a spring ramp festival sponsored by the NRA (National Ramp Association)—I kid you not.¹

A closely related species, Allium ursinum, or “Bear Garlic” has a similar following in Central Europe.

Ramps grow in colonies, but are somewhat vulnerable to over-harvesting because they take 7-10 years to grow to maturity. I typically harvest only one leaf from a given plant and leave the bulbs.

Ramps. Easiest way to identify is by taste. Look for (taste for?) a strong oniony-garlic flavor.

Lastly, a mushroom I wouldn’t necessarily recommend for the table, though it is eaten, and even widely cultivated. The Wine Cap mushroom, or King Stropharia, is typically found growing from woodchips, or decaying wood in the forest. It can apparently be easily cultivated in gardens and at home, although I have not yet tried this². Identification is a little tricky, but overall you want to look for gills starting out white, becoming lilac to purple/black, a purple-grey to blackish spore sprint, a thick, split ring, a bulbous base and white rhizomorphs. The color of the cap is burgundy when young, although it fades to reddish brown, and then to tan, and finally becomes whitish.

Older gills showing the dark purple color of the spore print.

I wouldn’t necessarily recommend eating this mushroom because there are a number of poisonous look-alikes, although positive identification is possible. Nonetheless, it’s a satisfying find with it’s beautiful purple/burgundy colors. It can be found along creek beds (where dead wood tends to pile up) during late morel season. Plus, it’s been found that special cells at the base of the mushroom are able to immobilize and digest nematodes (microscopic worms)³. Not a bad consolation prize for when morels are hiding.

Pollen Cones, Seed Cones and Pine Candles: Conifers in Spring

To start with, the basics: conifers are gymnosperms, meaning they don’t have flowers. More specifically, their seeds are not encased within a fruit produced from an ovary. But they do have male and female structures, and they do reproduce through pollination. Above you can see the immature female or seed cone, called the megastrobilus. Below, you see the male cone, also called the pollen cone or the microstrobilus.

The pollinated seed cone will eventually become the “pine cone” we know so well. While not flowers, conifers do have surprisingly colorful spring forms.

Conifers are typically thought of as being uniform throughout the year, but this is not quite true. They do have buds for instance:

On pines, these are called candles. I think it’s an apt image.

Spring is a good time to check out your local conifers, they might be up to something interesting!

Photo Highlights: Various Early April Finds

**Red-necked False Blister Beetle** on a **Yellow Trout Lily.** These beetles eat pollen.

The Mushroom Report

Most interesting find of the week, in fact, probably of the year so far, was this guy:

This, I believe, is Gyromitra korfii, considered a good edible, in contrast to a close look-alike, Gyromitra esculenta, which is toxic. The main differences are the thickness of the stem and the color. Korfii is more squat and has a more robust/stout stem and a lighter color.

Gyromitra esculenta, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gyromitra_esculenta

The Gyromitras are an interesting group. They are just similar enough to morels to be potentially confusing, hence the common names “Snow Morel” for G. korfii and “False Morel” for G. esculenta. Other names I like include, the “bullnose mushroom,” and “calf-brain mushroom.” The name Gyromitras comes from roots meaning “convoluted turban.”¹

Some species in the genus are highly poisonous when raw, because of the toxin gyromitrin.² G. korfii is suspected to have slight levels of gryomitrin, “roughly 1500 fold less compared to esculenta” according to wikipedia. This depends also on whether or not you consider G. gigas (the European equivalent) and G. korfii to be the same thing, which is a whole controversy in itself. There is also a high degree of variability according to geographical region, and even according to altitude.

But regardless of whether or not you want to eat this mushroom, it’s a nice find.

Flamekeeper: Great Musician, So-so Documentary.

Music documentaries often suffer from the same problem. Twenty different people saying the same thing. “He’s just on another level, man” or “There’s no one quite like him,” or insert platitudinous superlative here. It doesn’t matter how right they are, the same thing said over and over again (interspersed with performance clips) doesn’t make a story.

Flamekeeper makes some attempt at narrative. We learn that Michael Cleveland went to the Kentucky School for the Blind, that he had a rough first week when his roommate (falsely) told him he was never going home again, that his grandparents took him to a lot of festivals and jams, that at some point he became an alcoholic and at a later point gave up alcohol, and that he has a friend who is also blind and a talented guitar player and mechanic, but for lack of opportunity has not had the success Michael has had.

This is a fair amount of information, but to me a good documentary needs to do more than provide us with the disjointed bullet points. I would like to know more, for instance, about his experiences at the Kentucky School for the Blind. Why did his parents decide to send him there? What other options were there? How often did he have music classes, and what other classes did he have to take? How long did he stay there?

Or later, his alcoholism, which is introduced suddenly and out of context. How did it develop? Presumably it implies a certain level of depression which is never addressed and fits poorly with the “happy innocent” picture everyone paints of him.

This is a problematic aspect of the film (and many other representations of people with disabilities). The tendency to turn someone into more of an inspiration, a miracle than a flesh and blood human being. Time and again, the people interviewed say how much Michael motivates them to be better people, and how incredible it is that he can do everything he can (the subtext being…despite being blind). This sets by default low expectations for people who are blind and also sets them in a kind of “other” category.

That being said, I think Flamekeeper is a worthwhile documentary to watch. It provides more of Michael Cleveland’s story than is otherwise available and he is certainly a musician worth getting to know. Plus, the music documentary’s perennial ace in the hole, there is plenty of good performance footage. I say it is a so-so documentary not because it is boring or uninteresting to watch, but because it could be so much better.