As the fungi season wound down for another year, the prospect of a full fair weather day on 13th, ahead of a washout Friday and working weekend, sent me out again to track more autumn subjects. But with leaf fall nearly complete finding anything on the forest floor would be difficult, so I headed out to a Chilterns’ site that usually yields some interesting deadwood rotters. Those I had in mind were Wrinkled Peach and the deadly poisonous Funeral Bell, but on my way up to where I had recorded those items previously I stumbled upon a quite spectacular prospect.

Stopping to check out a gone-over coral fungus on a fallen log, I noticed numerous large, dark shapes partially hidden but nonetheless emergent out of the omnipresent leaf litter in the ground beyond. These were as I suspected Horn of Plenty (Craterellus cornucopioides) that is described as not uncommon but localised, and often abundant where it does occur. The last was certainly true as looking around I detected more and more of them, having previously encountered this fungus on just two occasions. They are robust and can be difficult to detect, since though fruiting at all times of year they last very late in the season when leaves are down.

Once seen this remarkable mushroom’s distinctive grey and black tones and subtle, intriguing contours set it apart from all others. It is most often found under Beech trees as here, but is also associated with Oaks. The alternative name used in France, “Trompette de la Mort” (Trumpet of Death), seems incongruous since these are a highly desirable edible mushroom; hence I will not name the site. Death references in fungal common names usually denote highly toxic items, but the explanation here lies in ancient folklore where the fruiting bodies’ dark and sinister tones were attributed to the buried dead connecting with the living by playing these trumpets emerging from the ground. In North America the common name is “Black Trumpet”. This fungus has a worldwide distribution.

If the dead really did play trumpets from under the ground it might look something like this

I messaged two associates and Ewan, being quite near while having an unproductive morning’s birding, came to join me (see here). In the meantime I had located a large fallen log that was adorned by large numbers of King Alfred’s Cakes (Daldinia concentrica). These saprobic fungi (ie deadwood rotters) were in both the young mauve form and black, burnt state that gives them their common name, all mixed together. This was a find I had been hoping to make all autumn, and my most profuse to date.

King Alfred’s Cakes

These hard, inedible fungi are also known as “Cramp Balls”. since carrying them was once thought to be a cure for cramp attacks. The pale specimens shown above are still growing, and during this asexual stage they develop and release spores over a long period. Once fully grown the fruit bodies turn black, hence the likeness to the hapless king’s burnt cakes in that old folk tale. Quantities of spores are released at this stage that typically blacken the surrounding host deadwood (above right). All saprobic fungi such as this feed upon and hence break down decaying organic material then recycle nutrients into the surrounding ecosystem.

When mushroom hunting I always get a special buzz if I find something that my phone app ID’s as deadly. I have possibly located the quite scarce but highly toxic Funeral Bell (Gallerina marginata – pictured below on 21st Oct) at this site in each of the last two seasons. The name tells all that needs to be known, since this item contains the same lethal toxins as the infamous Deathcap (Amanita phalloides – see here), that accounts for more than 90 per cent of fungus-related poisoning fatalities in Europe.

The catch is that Funeral Bell closely resembles an edible deadwood rotter Sheathed Woodtuft (Kuehneromyces mutabilis – above), also known as “Brown Stew Fungus” that is collected by some brave foragers and also abounds at this site. So my FB ID may not be accurate and in the absence of due scientific analysis I am open to correction. But I would not wish to test the more definite way of separating the two. Intriguing fungi indeed!

On a brighter note, I have also located Wrinkled Peach (see here for detail) whenever I have visited this Chilterns’ Beechwood. On 21st October I Iocated some typical clusters on the same fallen, presumably Elm logs as previously. By 13th November what remained was no longer really worth looking at, but this is always an attractive find due to its very particular colouration and growth habit.

Wrinkled Peach

Blackening Waxcap on 6th (left) and 13th (right) November, with Meadow Waxcaps (centre)

Having had our fill from the Horn of Plenty on 13th Ewan and I moved on to Nettlebed Churchyard in the Oxon Chilterns (see here), where given this autumn’s more limited available time I have maintained my interest in Waxcaps, sometimes referred to as the “Orchids of the fungi kingdom”. There one particularly fine Blackening Waxcap (Hygrocybe conica – pictured above), that I had tracked twice previously and what a stunner, made an apt tailpiece to this journal’s 2025 fungi content and it’s variously dark, purple and mysterious themes.

The stand-out experience of this year’s autumn fungi season has been my self-location and subsequent tracking of two uber-scarce Violet Webcap mushrooms (Cortinarius violacea) at one of just a few ancient woodland sites in the Chilterns where they are considered a notable find. I had recorded one there previously in each of 2020 and 21 but not since, despite searching. Now on 7th Oct I found and immediately felt attached to a pristine emerging specimen, and resolved to monitor its progress in the weeks ahead.

In the British Isles this is described as a rare entity, growing in calcareous woodland habitats mainly under Beech but also other broadleaf trees. It is considered a striking and unusual fungus, being dark purple in tone when young, with fibrous stems, and caps reaching 15cm at maturity on up to 12cm stems. I have corresponded with the mycologist who first recorded the species at this site, who said it caused quite a stir at the (unspecified) time when a specimen was sent to RHS Kew. Since then it has re-occurred at intervals but not in every calendar year.

Young Violet Webcap #1

My first specimen when young had a certain suggestive quality when viewed from one side, such as I rather like to emphasise herein, reminiscent perhaps of a bare-buttocked garden fountain figure (above right). Returning three days later on 10th a second fruit had emerged nearby, while the now mature first had reached the round-headed convex stage (pictured below). As it matures this fungus typically develops a distinctive lump in the centre of the cap. I made protective “wigwams” around both my finds (centre) with garden canes and twine, and through the remainder of this post’s duration, quite remarkably neither specimen was troubled either by mollusc munching or human hands.

Mature Violet Webcap #1

As with various other mushrooms featured in this journal, past posts that are becoming increasingly well referred to, I attempted to record the full fruiting cycle through a series of visits over 24 days. The following gallery presents this for the second specimen, showing a typical sequence of shapes to those other described subjects. By 30th Oct both my adopted mushrooms had lost their special violet lustre and were beginning to go over.

Violet Webcap #2

Cortinarius violacea occurs throughout Europe, where it is widespread but nowhere common, and is listed as endangered nationally. Other populations are distributed across the northern hemisphere in North America, mostly associated with coniferous trees, and Asia. Everywhere they are associated with acidic ground and form ectomycorrhizal relationships (see here) with the roots of various trees and shrubs. For further scientific detail on the species see here.

My final visit to the Chilterns’ site was on 6th Nov, by when both the objects of my past 30 days’ attention were in a collapsed state (pictured below). Autumn leaf fall from the tree cover was well advanced, and not much presentable fungi was still visible on the forest floor. I gathered up my makeshift wigwams and went upon my way for another year. The entire fruiting cycle of an extraordinary mushroom had thus been duly recorded and without interference. I expect I may return here in 2026.

This has at length given me something to blog about. In case fellow Oxon naturalists might have wondered where I’ve got to recently, I have been working part-time for up to four days a week in retail since late August, which might possibly help to fund park home improvements and future travel. I will never fill out this journal with repetitive content for its own sake. Things must evolve. I have managed to put a meaningful wildlife agenda in place once more for spring and early summer 2026, as in the quite exceptional first half of this year. Watch this space!