🍄 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 my third autumn in Finland.
But I prefer to call it my second—because in the autumn of 2023, I was busy settling into life and had no energy to appreciate the season. It wasn't until later, when life gradually stabilized, that I began to notice the details: the faint scent of wood in the air, the slight chill in the wind, and the sight of people carrying baskets into the forest while the weather was still mild. It was then that I first felt that autumn in this country has a rhythm of its own.
I still remember the surprise and curiosity I felt when I first saw wild mushrooms by the roadside. Walking a few steps along the pedestrian path through the autumn woods, I could spot a small cap peeking out from the grass. That kind of surprise from nature made someone who came from a city in my home country feel both novel and unforgettable.
🍁 They have just broken through the soil, red caps with white spots, quietly and strikingly visible among the fallen leaves.
Perhaps it is this ubiquitous nature that has helped me gradually understand why Finns love to walk into the forest so much. Over three-quarters of this country is covered by forests, and no matter where you live, you can encounter a patch of woods just a few steps away. In such an environment, walking into the forest is not a special event but a habit—whether to take a walk, pick berries, search for mushrooms, or simply do nothing and just be still. In Finland, nature does not belong to anyone, yet it belongs to everyone. Whatever is found in the forest belongs to whoever sees it first. As long as you do not disturb others or harm the environment, you can take away nature's gifts. Thus, mushroom foraging has become a habit for many Finns since childhood: some do it for the fresh ingredients for home-cooked meals, some for the fresh air in the woods, and others simply to enjoy the tranquility and ritual of it.
This year, I officially joined the "mushroom foraging army." Before I truly entered the forest, I thought it was simple: just bring a basket and dive into the woods; surely I would find something, right?
— The reality quickly gave me a resounding slap in the face.
On my first trip into the forest, we walked for over two hours with high hopes, only to see almost all poisonous mushrooms. Those vividly unreal red caps and orange hats looked beautiful like illustrations from a fairy tale, but they made me hesitate to reach out. Later, I learned that most of them were fly agarics (scientific name Amanita muscaria, a toxic mushroom that is rarely fatal but can cause severe vomiting and hallucinations)—the prototype of mushrooms in fairy tales, but the kind you should never touch in the real world.
🌲 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 doubt if we were in the wrong place, we encountered a local. He looked at the spoils in our basket and surprisingly dumped more than half of them out, leaving only a few mushrooms. He then took out a mushroom from his bag that looked extremely precious, saying, "This is the one you can eat," pointing to the funnel chanterelle. "But it's still too early; there are fewer now. Come back in 3-4 weeks, and there will be plenty. Use this as a reference." So that day, we took this funnel chanterelle as a sample and began a new search, but after searching all afternoon, we didn't 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 way home, the basket was almost empty, but I found that day quite interesting. I originally thought mushroom foraging was like "shopping in the forest," but it turned out to be more like a "knowledge competition"—testing your understanding of colors, shapes, and even luck.
However, the story did not end there.
A few days later, with a friend's guidance, we went to another forest. The terrain there was wetter, and the fallen leaves were thicker. It wasn't long before we discovered the first cluster of real funnel chanterelles. Then came the second cluster, the third cluster... In less than an hour, the basket was nearly full.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, and the colors of the caps were soft like watercolor.
The basket filled up little by little; foraging for mushrooms is not about luck but about time and patience, and more importantly, keen eyesight! You have to learn to slow down and wait for them to appear.
👀 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."
So, I left three little rules for future foragers.
There are countless mushrooms in the forest, with shapes that are all kinds of strange, some even more beautiful than those in cartoons.
The beautiful ones are often the most dangerous. Foraging mushrooms you can't eat is not only a waste but could also land you in the hospital to experience Finland's healthcare system.
Remember this: If you can't identify it, don't touch it.
The first time I saw a fly agaric, I was stunned for a long time. Its unreal red color made me want to get closer. But then the "common knowledge" I had been taught for years floated through my mind:—the brighter the color, the more dangerous it is.
On my second trip into the forest, I became more cautious and also greedier—thinking about remembering those "lucky spots." Thus, I came up with the following rule.
In Finnish forests, mushrooms have "territories." Fixed places grow fixed mushrooms, and if you wander around randomly, you might end up empty-handed after a full circle. On our fourth visit, we wandered for half a day without finding anything, only to return to a place we had been before—where it was like a mushroom paradise reborn. So, mark your map coordinates or leave a sign; your future self will thank you.
By the way, here's a joke: A Finn can tell you their bank card password but will never tell you where they forage mushrooms. I guess this is the "mushroom version of privacy rights."
If you don't want to see your great-grandmother one day, or watch the cute little pig on your balcony fly up and turn into a "Peppa-shaped cloud," then—please remember Rule 1 again. Only forage what you recognize; leave the rest for the forest.
As I write this, I suddenly recall a moment from that day—I was squatting in the woods, picking and choosing, and suddenly thought of the saying I often hear—you can only earn money within your cognitive range. Later, I realized that foraging for mushrooms is very much like making money—you can only forage the mushrooms within your cognitive range. Beyond that, even if you see something precious, you might miss it. Isn't life just like that?
🌾 There are countless mushrooms in the forest, but the only ones you can truly take away are those few you recognize. You can only forage mushrooms within your cognitive range.
The mushrooms in fairy tales do exist; on the way home that day, my basket was filled with mushrooms, and my heart was filled with autumn.
THE END
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