As a mycology beginner this arguably most iconic of mushrooms was high on my wish list of species to experience in the present season. These are the bright red pedestals with white spots upon which for long years past faeries have sat cross-legged in children’s book illustrations. And they are still one of the most recognizable and widely encountered fungi of popular culture, including literature, art and film. Worldwide the Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria) is native to conifer and deciduous woodlands across the northern hemisphere, but I myself had not located any so far this autumn prior to today.

Late morning I received a tip off that huge numbers are currently fruiting at a location to the west of Oxford. North Leigh Common (SP399136) is a remnant of historic heathland that is now managed by West Oxfordshire District Council to maintain a range of wildlife habitats. Amongst the site’s specialities are a splendid annual crop of my wished for mushroom that I set out in the early afternoon to record. To say I wasn’t disappointed is an understatement.

The Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria) here occur in bracken beneath Silver Birch. On locating such an area there were dozens, probably hundreds of fruiting bodies all around and of various shapes and sizes, so how many thousands there must be across the entire site could only be imagined. As I approached an apparent hot spot, where most of the pictures herein were taken, a first large red shape was visible ahead that upon being reached was indeed a saucer-sized specimen (pictured above). It was lying on one side having fallen so I picked it up wearing a petrol station glove and re-positioned it to photogenic advantage.

This perhaps most conspicuous and iconic of all mushrooms is typically numerous where it occurs, in Beech or coniferous woodland, or in association with Silver Birch as here. Looking around I next sought out specimens in good condition that represented the succession of forms in this mushroom’s fruiting cycle. After emerging from the ground looking like white eggs (below left) the caps become covered with small white to yellow pyramid-shaped warts that thin out as they grow into the medium sized convex form (bottom row) in the following sequence.

As the fruiting body develops and matures the cap shape evolves further from globular through hemispherical and plate-like to flat. Fully grown caps may reach 20 cm in diameter, though still larger specimens are known. The next picture sequence shows three mature specimens (top row). Heavy rain may wash the white spots off eventually (bottom row, left), before like many mushrooms the flatter stage turns up at the edges (bottom left) as the fruit crinkles before ultimately dissolving. Amongst all the pictured items the bracken covered ground was littered with many more deformed, fallen or slug-attacked Fly Agarics.

The Fly Agaric occurs naturally across much of the northern hemisphere and has been introduced widely in Australasia, South Africa and South America. As the bright colouring suggests it is poisonous though not deadly, and also has psycho-active components that cause hallucination and psychotic reactions if digested in small quantities. Indeed it has been used in shamanic rituals in some past northern Fennoscandian and Siberian indigenous cultures, and in ancient times may have been the hallucinogenic ingredient of a sacred ritual drink called Soma in India and Iran.

The only reported past narcotic use in Europe was of being consumed mixed with Vodka during Lithuanian wedding feasts, which sounds pretty potent! But long ago the Vikings were reputed to have used A muscaria to induce their “berserker” rages when going into battle. It is possible to detoxify Fly Agaric but culinary use across its range has been very limited. Since this mushroom contains ibotenic acid that attracts and kills flies it has also been utilised traditionally as an insecticide by breaking up the cap and sprinkling it into saucers of milk, hence the common name.

Cultural depictions have been widespread, such as in children’s faery tales, other literature notably Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, the 1940 Disney film Fantasia and the Super Mario video game franchise. Depiction was common on Christmas cards in Victorian and Edwardian times (below) as a symbol of good luck, and Fly Agaric’s colouring is thought to have been the inspiration for Santa Claus’ red and white suit!

Quite widespread association of A muscaria with Christmas folklore may be rooted in the mushroom’s historic narcotic use by tribal shamans in Lapland, Finland and Siberia (see here). Consider now the following:

• The shamans moved around by means of Reindeer-drawn sleds in winter. Reindeer are known to eat and become intoxicated by Fly Agaric, one of the most common psychedelic sensations of which is flying – hence Santa Claus’ mode of transport.
• Living in such a cold region the shamans would wear thick layers of clothing dyed red and white that matched the mushroom’s colouration – hence Santa’s suit.
• The indigenous cultures that consumed Fly Agaric were all in far northern regions – hence Santa living at the north pole.

“Curiouser and curiouser” as Alice herself might have said in Wonderland. Certainly no fungus may ever have captured the popular imagination and held its attention quite so much as the most attractive and enchanting Fly Agaric.

Footnote: In both 2022 and 2023 the bracken in which the wildlife spectacle of this post occurs was cut by WODC at the height of the Fly Agaric season, destroying all the fruiting mushrooms in “full bloom”. WHY? Surely this is a local treasure that should have been left for visitors to enjoy, whatever it says on the job sheet.

Having a year ago presented a one-off study herein of the quite beguiling fruiting cycle of the Magpie Inkcap mushroom, I have sought in the present autumn fungi season to locate and compare that of the related Shaggy Inkcap. And today on a fungus foray to Cowleaze Wood (SU727956) in the Oxon Chilterns we came across a six-strong group of the latter that allowed me to record pictorially the entire sequence.

The distinctive and shapely Shaggy Inkcap (Coprinus comatus – pictured above), also known as “Lawyer’s Wig” and “Shaggy Mane”, is described as widespread and common in the British Isles; whereas my understanding is the Magpie equivalent (Coprinopsis picacaea) is less frequent and restricted to Beech woods. But I had observed far more Magpies than Shaggies prior to today. The latter is said to be found in a wider range of habitats, such as meadows, woods not just of Beech, parks, gardens and roadside verges. My researches also suggest Magpie Inkcaps mostly occur singly or at least are well spaced, while Shaggies are more likely to be found in groups such as that encountered today.

The name derives from the notably scaled surface of the white cylindrical cap that adorns a tall smooth white stem. Not having observed this mushroom in the field before today I had wondered whether its fruiting body evolves in the same four part, four day sequence as the Magpies (see here) by which I became so fascinated last season. Now, together in one cluster was all the evidence I was seeking.

Shaggy Inkcaps

In the above sequence the left hand image is an egg-shaped emergent specimen that once lifted by the stalk will resemble the fruit in this post’s lead picture. The centre left item (above) is beginning to assume the bell shape of the next stage form (centre right), that eventually dissolves from the rim upwards (right) before the stalk collapses and the fruiting sequence and spore dispersal are over for another season. Below is the equivalent sequence in some Magpie Inkcaps found this autumn in Oxfordshire Beech woods at Highmoor Common (days 1, 2 and 4) and Stonesfield (day 3).

Magpie Inkcaps

On first finding the specimen in the left hand picture above I wondered if it might be a Shaggy, but soon realised it’s true identity as through my time on site the dark background of a Magpie increasingly showed through the white scales. Shaggy’s cone colouring may be described as white with off-white / pale tan scales turning grey black, and with a pink tinge. The initially white gills turn pink and then grey to black when they start to ‘melt’ from the edges. The fruiting body secretes a black liquid filled with spores, hence the ’inkcap’ name.

This is a very edible mushroom if picked before the caps start to open, but quite tricky to prepare correctly without dyeing everything around black. But it is also possible to make good ink out of such an outcome by heating the gunge with cloves. Another interesting anecdote I have uncovered is of a Shaggy Inkcap once having lifted a 75 by 60 cm paving slab 4 cm in 48 hours. It has been known for hundreds of these mushrooms to appear on prepared ground such as playing fields if suitably composted, and they are also prone to forming sizeable fairy rings.

It turned out the season’s high target just described was not this day’s only potential for innuendo in Cowleaze Wood, as a second good find was an impressive cluster of Shaggy Parasol (Chlorophyllum rhacodes – pictured above). A smaller relative of the stately Parasol (Macrolepiota procera – below right) that itself is found mainly in open grassland locations, this fairly common woodland mushroom shares the aforementioned Inkcap’s large, legal wig-type scaling whilst lacking the regular Parasol’s snakeskin patterning.

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The Shaggy’s cap is initially bun-shaped (pictured above, left), expanding to turn convex (centre) but only rarely opening out to become flat. When mature, the cap diameter ranges from 5 to 15cm. The 1.8 – 2.4cm diameter stem is white, tinged with red-brown, rising from a large bulbous base.

As a mycology beginner this new wildlife interest of the last two autumns is proving both fascinating and completely occupying, both out in the field and back at home trying to make sense of pictures and puzzling over IDs. Through October and into November fruiting fungi are there to be sought out in all weathers, not just when the sun shines, and they don’t relocate like birds. What is there not to like?

Here is another of those “eventually I got up and went” scenarios. Normally I prefer this journal to be about the wildlife I observe rather than myself and what I do. But what can I add to all that has been published on-line concerning this bird over the past week? So I will instead indulge myself a little, which seems the best way to make a story out of all this.

In BirdGuides’ weekly review (see here) today’s item was described as a “true ‘giga’ rarity”, a phrase I had not heard before. It had been confirmed as the uber-scarce east Asian vagrant Long-toed Stint seven days ago on the evening of my previous twitch for the Hants’ Western Sandpiper. My own wish-list of still required European lifers is derived from their inclusion in the Hamlyn pocket field guide I used in my first phase of serious birding in the 1980s and 90s. I have two copies, one of which is marked up as my British and the other my European bird list. These prized personal relics include two pages of what the book terms “Accidental small sandpipers”, comprising some 12 species of which I still require just two.

The two most recent conversions illustrate just how rare some of these “peeps” as small waders are also known are. Western Sandpiper is cited by Collins (that like most birders I now use) as one of the group’s rarest visitors to Europe, five individuals so far in 2021 being a year record. The Long-toed Stint at St Aidan’s RSPB “nature park” in West Yorkshire (LS26 8GE – SE 399286) is the third for Great Britain and just 13th for the Western Palearctic. The first accepted national record was in June 1970 and a possible Sep 2011 record in Sussex is still in circulation with the BBRC. The Yorkshire bird is the first twitchable one since Aug 1982, meaning every British travelling birder would wish to connect.

My own concerns when the news broke were two-fold. Firstly I dislike and avoid heaving mass twitches, so would wait for things to calm down a bit. Secondly I wanted to gauge how distantly the bird was being viewed and how different from a Little Stint it might look at that range. When visual matter and other Oxon birders’ blogs began to appear online earlier this week my mind was put at rest concerning the latter. For the RBA gallery of this bird see here, including some images that capture the elongated middle toe that gives this Stint its name. The five minute video in the BirdGuides review linked higher up this post is most excellent, revealing a truly distinctive appearance and jizz.

By now I appreciated this might be my only opportunity to record a LTS and so one that warranted going to the extended 180-mile limit of my preferred driving range. When the RBA and BG weekly reviews landed in my inbox midweek they contained tales of thousands strong twitch lines and how the cream of British hard-core had relocated en masse from abandoned early October sojourns in Shetland and the Scillies. The removal of this “blocker” for a whole generation of birders had indeed inspired a huge national event.

It remained to actually feel motivated to make the conversion and my gut feel was that like the still present White-tailed Lapwing at RSPB Blacktoft Sands this latest bird would be a long stayer. I need to be in a particular frame of mind to take the road, which though not a precise condition usually involves pent up energy to burn. On waking this morning (14th) at 2:30 am there was a choice of spending time on the computer until sleepy again or getting out of the door. The moment had come to embark upon the four hour journey north.

Arriving on site at 8:30 I made my way out to it’s eastern reed bed where maybe 20 birders were already in place. I was put onto the Long-toed Stint straight away, which was some way off amongst a group of Northern Lapwing and Dunlin. Like last week’s Western Sandpiper this looked distinctive in both appearance and jizz, both small birds being restless and busy in their feeding behaviour and not at all like Little Stint. I then watched the visitor going about its business for around an hour before proceedings began to get a little too crowded for my liking.

LTS is a Tundra breeder and considered to be the Eastern Palearctic equivalent of the Nearctic region’s very similar Least Sandpiper. Most winter in south-east Asia with smaller numbers reaching Australia and possibly east Africa. To quote the Helm guide to confusion species Long-toed at a distance can look quite square-headed, flat-backed and pot-bellied, with a straight bill and rather truncated rear end. The relatively long, yellowish legs appear about equal to the body depth, and the bird often tilts forward when feeding. Close up the most obvious diagnostic is the strikingly long central toe of the species’ name.

As more and more observers arrived after 10 o’clock, all asking for and receiving directions as I had done, things became both repetitive and confusing compared to earlier and so I chose not to extend my stay. I could only imagine what the constant chorus of “just right of the Lapwing”, “moving in front of a Dunlin”, “there’s a Moorhen next to it now” and similar utterances must have sounded like over the previous weekend. Likewise, back at the car park I considered just how the facility might have coped with visitor numbers then, though the roadside verges for some way outside bore ample testimony to that.

The 400 hectare (990 acre) expanse of St Aidan’s Nature Park, also known as Swillington Ings covers a former open cast coal mining complex in the Aire Valley to the south-east of Leeds. Visiting it today provided an insight into this country’s industrial past that southerners such as myself possibly do not usually get the opportunity to appreciate. One thing I didn’t notice so much in this part of the world is the blanket over-development with characterless, high density housing around every small town and village that to my mind blights my native south-east of England, and which I personally detest.

Coal extraction in this area began in the early 1940s and continued at the St Aidan’s site until March 1988 when a major landslip alongside the River Aire caused the surface mining workings to flood over four days creating an extensive lake. It was 10 more years, during which the river’s course was diverted, before work could recommence to dig out the remaining coal reserves. Once that was complete ownership passed to Leeds City Council which created a charitable trust to re-wild the land. The present nature park opened in 2013 and four years later was leased to the RSPB which now manages the site for both wildlife and recreational activity. Habitats here include wetland, reed bed, meadows and woodland.

Before leaving today I took the opportunity to appreciate a prominent local landmark. The big brooding beastie (pictured above) is variously claimed to be Europe’s oldest or only preserved large walking drag-line excavator and the first I can ever recall seeing. These gargantuan products of heavy engineering were the main workhorse in open cast mining for around 50 years through the second half of the 20th century, before becoming superseded by newer technology. Electrically driven, they walked by means of rotating cam-driven feet, one on either side that lifted the structure off the ground and moved it forward at a rate of two metres a minute.

Manufactured in the US in 1946, this Bucyrus Erie 1150-B was one of three such machines purchased by the National Coal Board in 1953. Taking in it’s huge bulk my mind boggled at their being lifted onto and off the vessels that shipped them to Blighty, and how this one was partially dismantled and moved between three sites here through it’s working life. Presumably the heavy lifting and haulage technology of the day could cope since I doubt if it walked all the way! “Oddball” as the pictured machine is nicknamed weighs 1200 imperial tons and was operational at St Aidan’s between 1974 and the site closure of 1988. It is now maintained by a charitable trust (see here) aided by National Lottery and other grants.

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Having become fascinated by this historical item I am happy to include it here, as I like to do in my mainly wildlife journal from time to time. Moving swiftly on and returning to birding matters it next seemed sensible being so close to go back for second helpings of the White-tailed Lapwing that has become a fixture 40 miles away at Blacktoft Sands since my first visit there on 28th August (see here).

Today the bird had been present in front of one of the reserve’s hides for quite some time prior to my arrival. When I got there in the early afternoon it was easy to pick out dozing it’s time away in the middle distance. The gloomy light at both sites might have suited the redundant presence of the walking drag-line, but definitely not my efforts at capturing pictorially this excursion’s second avian celebrity (below) any more than the first.

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Some fairly local birders then told me about a Baird’s Sandpiper seen earlier just 27 miles in my own direction home. So after the Lapwing eventually went walkabout and I had become satisfactorily re-acquainted with it I opted to attempt a third item on what was becoming a busy day. But what would have been my second career Baird’s proved a step too far as it was not reported again in the afternoon and I didn’t locate it either.

And so I headed back south to complete a solo round trip of 410 Velvet Revolver, Thunder and RHCP-accompanied miles; nothing to proper hard-core birders of course, whatever their choice of in-car entertainment but not a distance I attempt too often myself. Worth it though? … Given the energy to burn mind-set of this particular day, I should say so!

This was a very satisfying British and WestPal list addition, especially as I had dipped the same species at Snettisham in Norfolk already this year. Checking national bird news on Thursday evening (7th) I found a vagrant Nearctic wader present on the Hampshire Solent for the previous three days had been confirmed as one of the required conversions on my dwindling wish list of more regularly occurring British passage scarcities.

The adult bird in question had been cited as either Semipalmated or Western Sandpiper that are closely related and very similar. I had observed the first of those twice previously – at nearby Keyhaven Marsh (Sep 2013) and Slimbridge WWT, Glos (Oct 2015 see here) – but the second only on my January 2018 visit to Florida. Now it seemed the great and good of Hants birding society had settled opinion in favour of the species I needed nationally, and I at once resolved to go for it in the morning.

Notes attached to an entry on Hants Going Birding explained the local birders’ decision as being “based on posture, position of the legs, body shape, jizz when walking around, and thin-tipped bill shape.” The previous archive picture of my own (below, left) and outsourced image (right) possibly support all that, and having experienced Western at close range previously I felt reasonably confident of being able to recognise it again.

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My quest was being reported each day after 10am and so I opted to arrive on site around an hour earlier. In the event parking without causing obstruction was easy at the junction of Maiden and Normandy Lanes to the south of Lymington, where there are several roadside car spaces. Walking out from there onto the sea wall, small groups of birders were at once visible scanning Normandy Lagoon (SZ 332938). On joining them the scarcity had not been viewed yet so it was a matter of waiting for carrier flocks to fly in with the incoming tide.

Time passed and more birders congregated in two main groups at different points on the sea wall as roosting wader numbers built up. Just before 10:50am a nearby pager owner announced the day’s first news on RBA, so the bird must have been seen by the other group. I headed over straight away but on joining them only two of their number were confident of the sighting. Some discussion then ensued as people confused two Little Stint, an adult and a juvenile, with what we all sought. And so the excitement subsided and a need for patience set in once more.

Nobody was locating the object of our intent in the nearest wader roost, but maybe it was amongst other large congregations too far away to be picked out. Another hour passed then a pair of Peregrine entered proceedings, putting up all the waders around the lagoon. After the latter re-settled a clearly knowledgeable birder standing right next to me began to issue very good directions concerning a bird on the nearest island … and there was the Western Sandpiper that to my mind immediately stood out.

For me the most telling features were this bird’s dainty jizz, strikingly black slim legs and bill, and fine-tipped bill shape. All that was quite distinctive as it moved around amongst numbers of larger Dunlin and Ringed Plover in the middle distance, while the short bills and rounded shape by comparison of the two Little Stints people had kept calling earlier were equally plain to see. This outsourced graphic (below) presents more detail on separating Western from Semipalmated Sandpiper, with emphasis on bill characteristics.

More in line with my own experience today, the Helm guide to confusion species advises observers to think of Western Sandpiper as a miniature Dunlin. The two species are similar in shape and share other characteristics, most notably the down-curved bill. WS is a Tundra breeder in eastern Russia and Alaska, winters on both the US eastern and Pacific coasts, and is one of the rarest visitors to Europe in its group. 2021 has been a record year for the species, with the bird at Snettisham and another on the south coast of Ireland in July and at least two elsewhere on the continent.

This has been a very good national birding year for me personally with 10 list additions so far of which six are lifers. Those are White-throated Sparrow, River Warbler, Blyth’s Reed Warbler, Pacific Golden Plover, Black-browed Albatross and White-tailed Lapwing. The British list additions are Whiskered Tern, Great Reed Warbler, Black Stork and today’s bird that is number 370 on my British and 510 on my Western Palearctic lists. Still not having been to either Scotland or the Scillies, if I wait patiently and scan the daily bird news these things keep turning up within manageable range. So what remains for me to record nationally keeps getting whittled down … onward then!