🍄 This is the fly agaric mushroom, commonly seen in Finnish forests, and the prototype of the "mushroom in fairy tales." With its red cap and white spots, it's so beautiful that it makes you hesitate to approach. The photo is unedited; it is naturally this vibrant - poisonous yet enchanting.
This is technically my third autumn in Finland, but I usually think of it as my second. In 2023 I was still busy getting my life together, and I did not really have the energy to notice the season. It was only later, when things became a bit more stable, that I started paying attention to the details: the smell of wood in the air, the first sharp edge of cold wind, and people carrying baskets into the forest while the weather was still mild. That was when autumn in Finland started to feel like its own thing.
I still remember the first time I noticed wild mushrooms by the roadside. I was walking through the woods and suddenly saw a small red cap poking out from the grass. It was such an ordinary scene, but for someone who grew up in a city back home, it felt strangely unforgettable.
🍁 They have just broken through the soil, red caps with white spots, quietly and strikingly visible among the fallen leaves.
That is probably why I slowly started to understand why Finns love the forest so much. More than three-quarters of the country is covered by forest, and almost wherever you live, you can find a patch of woods nearby. Going into the forest is not a special occasion here. People walk, pick berries, look for mushrooms, or just sit there and do nothing for a while. Nature does not belong to anyone, but in practice it belongs to everyone. As long as you respect the place and the people around you, the forest lets you take its gifts home. Mushroom picking, then, becomes something many Finns grow up with - part habit, part family routine, part excuse to go outside.
Foraging for Mushrooms Is Not as Easy as It Looks
This year, I officially joined the mushroom-foraging crowd. Before I went into the forest for real, I thought it would be simple: bring a basket, walk in, pick a few mushrooms, and head home. That is not how it went.
On my first trip, we spent more than two hours in the woods with high hopes and came back having seen mostly poisonous mushrooms. The bright red caps and orange tops looked like something out of a picture book, which made them even more tempting to look at and even more dangerous to touch. Later I learned that most of them were fly agarics, Amanita muscaria - beautiful, iconic, and definitely not for eating.
🌲 On the first day in the forest, the ground was covered with soft moss, and the air was filled with the damp scent of pine. At that time, I thought edible mushrooms were waiting for me just around the corner.
Just when we were starting to wonder if we were in the wrong place, we met a local. He looked at our basket, dumped out more than half of it, and then pulled out a mushroom from his own bag like it was something valuable. "This one is edible," he said, pointing to the funnel chanterelle. "But it is still early. Come back in three or four weeks and there will be more. Keep this as a reference."
That day, the funnel chanterelle became our sample mushroom. We searched all afternoon and did not find a second one.
🍂 The "sample" that the local handed us - the funnel chanterelle. That day, we searched the forest all afternoon but never encountered a second one.
On the drive home, the basket was almost empty, but I still found the day interesting. I had imagined mushroom picking as something like shopping in the forest. In reality, it felt more like a small exam - one that tests your ability to read color, shape, and luck at the same time.
But that was not the end of it.
A few days later, with a friend's guidance, we went to another forest. The ground there was wetter, and the fallen leaves were thicker. Before long, we found the first cluster of real funnel chanterelles, then the second, then the third. In less than an hour, the basket was nearly full.
Sunlight slipped through the leaves, and the mushroom caps looked soft and almost watercolor-like.
Mushroom picking is not really about luck. It is about patience, time, and, most of all, eyesight. You have to slow down enough to notice them.
👀 Do you see it? The funnel chanterelle is right there. It really depends on your eyesight!
🧺 That day's basket was finally full - an entire bowl of funnel chanterelles. This time, it was truly a bountiful return.
Three Rules I Learned the Hard Way
Rule 1: Only pick mushrooms you know
The forest is full of mushrooms, and many of them look more beautiful than the ones in cartoons.
That is exactly why the beautiful ones are often the dangerous ones. Picking mushrooms you cannot identify is not just wasteful. It can also send you straight to the hospital.
The first time I saw a fly agaric, I stared at it for a long time. Its red cap was unreal. I wanted to get closer, but the old advice in my head kicked in: the brighter it looks, the more careful you should be.
Rule 2: Remember where you found them
On my second trip, I became both more careful and more greedy. I started thinking about how to remember the good spots, because in Finnish forests mushrooms do seem to have territories. Some places keep producing the same species, and if you wander too randomly, you can easily come back empty-handed.
On our fourth visit, we spent half a day walking around without finding much. Then we returned to a place we had seen before, and it was like the forest had suddenly changed its mind. A few notes on your map can save you a lot of work later.
By the way, here is the joke I keep using: a Finn may tell you their bank card PIN, but they will not tell you where they forage mushrooms. That feels about right.
Rule 3: If you do not want to meet your great-grandmother, stay with Rule 1
If you do not want to have a very bad day, or end up hallucinating mushrooms in your living room, then please stay with Rule 1. Only pick what you can identify. Everything else belongs to the forest.
When I think back to that day, I remember squatting in the wet leaves and realizing I had no idea what most mushrooms were. I was picking by confidence, not knowledge. The local we met had one look at our basket and pulled out more than half.
🌾 The funnel chanterelles we finally brought home.
The fly agarics are still there in the forest. Beautiful, completely inedible, and not my problem anymore. On the way home, my basket was full and my knees were muddy. That felt about right.
I put a lot of thought into this post—would love to hear your thoughts!