Hunting for Mushrooms

It rained most of yesterday and last night. Morning dawned on a perfect mushroom day, like I would know. But it is a beautiful autumn day to spend in the forest.

I thought mushrooming was a group activity. I had thought we would all head for the forest together, holding hands and skipping, in search of mushrooms. That is certainly an exaggeration, but I did not realize it was an Olympic sport. We got out of the car, locked it up tight, and headed for the path. I turned around for a second to get my camera when they bounded off up the mountain path, mushroom bags flying. I started off after them, but never did catch up.

I was left standing there going, "Uh…. OK, then." I followed after them but never did catch up. They know the forest, which direction is which, and where the mushrooms are. I, on the other hand, only know that it is wet, slippery and there are a lot of trees that all look very much alike. I tried to keep my bearings and my footing. It wasn't going well. I tried to pick my way through the slippery ferns, baby trees, and mosses that were growing everywhere, trying not to kill everything in my path. I do like to think I am somewhat of an environmentalist. Occasionally I did see one or the other of them, off in the distance, galumphing off in one direction or another after elusive mushrooms. Every once in a while, I see Daniela and she says, "Come this way. See this one, this yellow one – it is poisonous." Like I could see the one she is even talking because I am still fifty feet away. By the time I got where she was, she has flitted off in another direction. And I don't even like mushrooms!

At one point, Daniela said that it was marshy and that I should stay up above in the tree line. It was rough going, passing between the trees trunks, the baby trees, the fallen branches and stumps, the ferns, and, of course, the mushrooms. My feet are getting wet from the damp leaves that are everywhere. I slipped twice. I really do not see where the fun is in this. After being lost for some time, I felt the need to make a call of nature. I looked around and found a secluded spot. I was nestled into a fir tree when I heard a buzzing sound. I looked down and found that the spot I had chosen was only two feet from a bees' nest in the ground. I had bothered them enough that they were now rather rowdy. The buzzing got busier and louder as more and more bees streamed out of the hole. They were not happy with their new neighbor. I got out of there quickly, and I didn't look back to see if they were following.

It is not long before I am alone again in the forest. I am absolutely, completely, hopelessly lost in the forest. I stop for a moment and think about those bees. Bees make honey. Bears like honey. Bears. Five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine bears. There are five thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine bears roaming the forests and mountains in Romania. And here I am, alone, in the mountains, in the forest, hunting for mushrooms with five thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine free roaming bears. There are a lot of people here doing the same thing but who is to say there is not a bear? And where might that bear be? I am sure there are must be a few here.

Enough of this mushrooming. Slipping and sliding up and down wet, muddy hills. I found my way down to a lovely babbling brook flowing through the forest. I found a flat, dry rock, and sat down to watch the water move through the rocks to where I am sitting. Suddenly, I remember a picture of a bear coming to the stream. I can see it swipe a trout out of the water to eat. Of course, there are no fish in this brook. The only thing edible here is me.

I can't see anything anywhere except trees. Trees, trees, and more trees. And bears. Five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine bears. Probably hungry bears. Hungry bears getting ready to pack it in for the winter.

I think it is time for me to call it a day.