The little deck just just outside my kitchen door has been a favorite dining spot of local fauna since I have lived in this flat and began
feeding the birds. Birds flit in and out from dawn to dusk. Squirrels and chipmunks come right up to the door, demanding more seeds, more peanuts.. all day long. Wild turkeys have come to feed in the yard below for the first time this year.

Occasionally, a stray cat or one of the neighbors’ pets will stealthily climb the stairs, attracted by all the avian traffic. The felines, though rarely make a return visit, as my dog has “cat radar” and barks nonstop at a hint of a meow. My visitors are so accustomed to me that they never scamper or fly away any more when I cross the threshold from my space to theirs. There is something wondrous about wild creatures accepting your presence as a natural part of their existence.. They bestow a benediction and bless my life with their grace, beauty and joyful antics.

After nightfall, the raccoons wreak havoc out there…clumsily tipping over flower pots and rooting around in the plants for leftovers the daytime diners have overlooked. For a while, I replenished the seeds and peanuts just after dark especially for these hungry critters, until they became overly rambunctious, drawing attention from the neighbors, who take a different view of these visitors than I, considering them as “pests”. Sadly, they prefer television to the real life drama put on by Mother Nature which occurs just outside their doors and windows.

A new nocturnal visitor came upon the scene recently. Late one night,  my dog began pacing back and forth by the door, beckoning me to take a look outside.  I turned on the dim outdoor light and there was an opossum!  He froze as still as a statue the momen he found himself in the spotlight.  I had rudely interrupted  his sunflower seed snack.  I stepped outside and expected him to scurry away. Instead, he remained completely still.  Even his eyes were fixed as if hypnotized. As I inched closer and closer, he remained in place.

Finally, when I was about 2 feet away with the camera held just as near, he moved his head slightly and his eyes darted to the side as if contemplating flight.  He remained still long enough for me to get a good look at him, and he was a lovely creature! His face was beautiful.. especially his eyes. Feeling guilty about disturbing his meal, I took my pictures and retreated back into my flat, turning off the light.  After a minute,  he resumed his munching. I will never forget the sight of those dark and beautiful eyes, his delicately featured face, his little pink nose and feet..his white-tipped ears… and his tail! I waited for his return the following evening, but he has not been back..not that I am aware. Who knows how many enchanting creatures visit unobserved by me? I am grateful, though, that this opossum found something worth his venture up my stairs for a midnight snack.

The Black Trumpet is often over looked by mushroom foragers in my neck of the woods. It is easy to overlook these incredibly fragrant fungi because here on Cape Cod, they rarely grow large enough to make them worth hunting. They are difficult to spot on the forest floor because their appearance so closely resembles brown, fallen leaves. They are very thin and fragile and only last one or two days at most before they shrivel up into a hard, coal black piece of debris.
What these delicate mushrooms lack in size and substance, they make up for in flavor. The unique characteristics make them easy to differentiate from poisonous types for the experienced forager. I rarely find many of these.. perhaps enough to grace an omelet. The Black Trumpet has an affinity for egg dishes, adding an unforgettable flavour and aroma to a simple plate of scrambled eggs.

This year, I hit the jackpot. I could hardly believe my eyes when I spotted these tiny trumpets emerging from a large patch of moss growing along one of the roads in the state forest. I stopped the car to take a closer look, and there were enough to keep me on my knees in the moss until I picked the area clean. When gathering any mushroom, you should gather them carefully. They should be cut flush with the ground and not pulled. This causes the least disturbance to the mycelium in the soil. Only pull when you absolutely must make a positive identification by some characteristic of the stem base. Proper picking will insure the chances of finding the same mushrooms in that area again and again.

Lucille Iacovelli

 When I first moved to Cape Cod in 1991,  I was struck by the stunted growth of the trees.  Growing in sand and  ravaged by coastal winds, trees do not grow as tall as their inland relatives.   At first, I missed the majestic hardwood forests of my former home,  but soon learned to appreciate the many natural wonders which can be found only on Cape Cod.  Now, when I crave the forest, I need only travel a few miles from home to Shawme-Crowell State Forest , where   the magnificence of  Mother Nature is always on display. .

I love wild mushrooms.  As a child, my father would take me to practice archery at a range by the pond.  After, we would wander the woods mushroom hunting.  This is where I learned to pick my first edible mushrooms.  My foraging repertoire expanded  during visits to my grandparents home, when my Tatucci (grandfather) would take me to visit his next door neighbor Henry, or Enrico, as we used to call him.  There, in a little shack  in his back garden,  the most fascinating, mysterious array of fungi  were laid out to dry on shelves lined with rough brown paper.    I listened carefully to these two old time Italians discuss the many peculiarities of differentiating the edible from  the poisonous, as my mind absorbed this information like a sponge.

Five decades later, the knowledge gleaned from my childhood has served me well.  I have foraged wild mushrooms with safety and success for many years.  Cooking with and savouring these  rare delicacies is one of my greatest pleasures. Cooking and eating these delicious gifts from the earth  was a pleasure I wanted to share with others. Yet I found most people very reluctant to try my culinary creations, as every year there are reports of people having died from ingesting poisonous  fungi. After several seasons of gathering mushrooms at the state forest, the  friendly forest rangers finally came to trust  my ability to "pick safe" and have become appreciative taste testers of my new recipes.  One of the best things about cooking is having other discerning palates to critique my creations. 

The “Hen-of-the-Woods” (Grifola Frondosa or Maitake)  pictured here is my #1 favorite.

Please excuse this post!  Silly, I know, but still cannot not resist.  (Yes, I love this tune Mera Naam Chin Chin Choo : )

~ Lucille Iacovelli