Casper Cox is a forager. He and a small group of friends entrusted with the locations of his secret bounties, trudge through local woodlands just as the trees wake from their winter slumber. He and his band of shroomers canvass the forest floor in tireless pursuit of the elusive, enigmatic morel – an edible mushroom that emerges from the depths of the Earth in the springtime and makes Cox and company’s mouths water with culinary desire.
Morel-hunter, Casper Cox“I’ve hunted morels for about 20 years,” explains Cox, a Chattanooga naturalist and graphic artist who learned the art of hunting morels from his friend, Earl Rothberger. “Earl took me out and guided me close to a lone morel. After scanning the leaves for several minutes, I finally gave up, and Earl pointed it out to me. There it was – about three inches high with a wrinkled, honeycomb cap. It was like finding an Easter egg, and that’s how it all started for me. Now I see them in my dreams.”
Cox is a self-described mycophile – a person who enjoys hunting and consuming edible mushrooms, and he’s not alone. Thousands of people of all ages and socioeconomic classes wander outside each year to seek out mushrooms. Cox has participated in fungi forays in Tennessee, Georgia and North Carolina with both organized mushroom clubs and everyday fungi folks who hunt shrooms from time to time for the simple pleasure of being outdoors and experiencing something a little different.
Throughout Appalachia, morels are known by names such as dry land fish, molly moochers, hickory chicks, pine cone mushrooms, peckerheads and merkels – a name derived from the word, miracle. Indeed, it is a somewhat miraculous feat to find a morel.
“Morel hunting season here begins when the redbuds start blooming,” Cox says. “There’s nothing better than walking around in the woods in the early spring when the sun is shining and the trees and plants start pushing out green. And that’s when morels fruit.”