I should explain at the outset that, by education and profession, I am a journalist, not a mycologist. My interest in morels is purely a hobby and pursued at my own expense; therefore, my methods may be somewhat primitive. I welcome any attempts by others to replicate this study.
The plan was to find a fruiting of morels around a suitable elm, preferably one with few or no other trees nearby. Then, after cataloging nearby plants and trees, I would carefully remove the soil around the mushrooms to expose whatever roots were near their bases. I would then work backwards, tracing the roots to their sources.
A late spring with cold, wet weather continuing well into May made for a poor morel season. Undaunted, my father and I headed out into the muddy hollows and multiflora rose in search of our favorite fungus. We criss-crossed the rugged terrain, driving from spot to spot, for a couple of hours with no luck. Then we headed off down a steep hill on a long hike into a wilder, less accessible area.
At the bottom of the hill we followed a small creek down to the river, finding one morel near an ash tree along the way. Near an elm we found the base of another morel; someone had been there before us.
We followed the river up to the next hollow, a wider valley dominated by huge sycamores and fed by seven springs. As I scanned the horizon for elm and ash, I stepped back for a second, looked around and remembered that being in such a beautiful place was reward enough for the long walk, even if I came back empty-handed.
Two of the mushrooms had sprouted beside large surface roots of the elm, so there was no need to trace them back. I set to work on the other three.
I started with the one closest to the tree. It also happened to be the smallest. Digging around it I unearthed a small root running a couple of inches under its base and traced it back to the tree. The arrow in the top photo at right points to this root. At the top of the photo is a morel next to a large surface root.
The next morel was farther from the tree but a bit larger. I found a larger root running under its base and traced it back to the tree (photo at left).
The third mushroom seemed at first to contradict my hypothesis, as I dug a 3-inch trench around it and found no roots running under it (middle photo at right).
I lifted the mushroom out with the soil around it intact. When I did so, I uncovered a large root underneath, a little deeper than the trench I had dug (bottom photo at right).
The results from this very small sample are heartening but certainly not conclusive. Also, the time spent and difficulty involved in finding this site, plus the long walk still left to get back to the car, severely limited the time I could spend studying and documenting the site. While appearing superficially to support my theory, the element of chance has not been eliminated. I will try to replicate this study in the future, optimally with larger samples and better conditions.
As I conducted my study, my father continued to search the area and came back with several more mushrooms. Later we enjoyed them with a steak dinner, breaded and fried in the traditional Midwestern way. A long walk well worth it.
So, why was I looking for a close relationship between yellow morels and the roots of elm trees?
Luckily, though, that didn't happen.
Assuming the areas close to the river had been hunted before us, we headed up the hollow created by the most remote spring. We fond nothing but fallen trees in our path, save one small morel next to an equally small elm. Finally, all the way up near the top of the ridge, I found an elm with five morels around it.
