Eric, Toby and I searched for wild morels yesterday afternoon. We had gone out about two weeks ago, when we bagged all the ramps, but the ground was too dry to give rise to any morels. We thought we might have better luck yesterday because it had rained during the week, but when we got into the woods in Manchester, the ground still looked dry, and there was nary a morel in sight.
So we moved on to Dorset. Eric took me to a spot that should have been teeming with the tasty fungi: We hiked up a logging road with wide, high berms that were flanked on both sides by clusters of ash trees. The earth was damp from a spring creek, and there were plenty of rotting tree trunks in which morels and other mushrooms like to take root.
Despite the seemingly perfect habitat and despite our peeled eyes, we did not see a single morel. What a pissah! We kept thinking we’d see one every time we came upon a cluster of ash trees, but we kept getting skunked. Eric said the experience was a lot like deer hunting because he always expects to see a huge buck when he’s creeping through the woods. Notably, we were not far from the spot where Eric shot his deer last fall. We figured that someone else must have gone into the woods before us and scooped up all the morels. Sigh.
I asked Eric earlier in the week if anyone at Orvis had found any morels. He said that he hadn’t heard of anyone having any luck, with the exception of Jim Lepage, who hits the morel jackpot every year. Jim bagged 20 pounds of them. Son of a gun.
Have you had any luck finding morels? In what kind of habitat are you finding them?
(Photo from MykoWeb.)