I have a few small notebooks and they’re reserved for hand-drawn maps.

A path here, a tree with a crooked limb there, and then a big ’ol “X” that I usually enthusiastically circle several times.

That “X” marks the spot, and for me, it’s a place where I’ve found some pretty nice fungus.

I’m a mushroom picker.

While some get a rush from sky diving or completing a crossword puzzle, my adrenaline flows when I’m staring at the ground for a while - and then catch a glimpse of a ’shroom.

I call it a hobby, and a great one it is. It’s one I was introduced to by my grandfather. Pop’s parents came over “on the boat” from Lithuania, and like many Eastern Europeans, they spent time in the woods foraging for edible mushrooms. They knew the “good” ones - the ones that wouldn’t kill you - and when they came to the Coal Region, they naturally adapted to the woods here.

Pop learned as a boy, maybe around the same age I was when he started taking me to the forest. I’d grab a basket and he’d get a bag and a knife. We’d look a handful of types. He called them things like “red tops” or “stumpies” but mostly he called them names in his parents’ native tongue.

As I grew older and Pop passed on, I’d continue to search and I’d eventually learn more species. And now it’s at the point where the hobby has turned into an obsession, given the time of year. You don’t want to miss out when conditions are prime. A day or two of rain, or a day or two of heat, can decimate any potential harvests. It’s also a game against bugs, who are quick to make a home or take a snack out of what’s popping out of the ground.

Over the last few weeks, it has been the “ramshead” mushroom. Some call them “hen of the woods,” others “maitake,” and a few (the smart people) will refer to them by their Latin name, grifola frondosa. They’re considered a prize find, and can grow to massive sizes. They also typically sprout from the same tree from year to year - hence the mapmaking!

Just don’t expect a mushroom picker to tell you where they find them. No one will EVER spill a location - or even give you a general vicinity. (“In the woods” or “under a tree” are good answers if someone asks.)

Autumn usually presents with a mushroom boon, but in the springtime, I’m looking for oyster mushrooms or morels. As the days wear on and warm, it’s chicken of the woods, which can grow very large. Like their name implies, they have the striations and consistency of “real” chicken. They’re beautiful, with vibrant oranges and yellows, almost like a sunset.

Then there are chanterelles, which were plentiful this year. I also search for black trumpets, cauliflower mushrooms, shrimp of the woods, lion’s mane, and shaggy manes.

I could go on and on.

But I’m no expert.

There are so many types of fungus. Some have gills on the undersides of their caps, while some have pores or even teeth. Others don’t have caps at all. They might grow like a bracket or a shelf, or they might be in the shape of coral or the consistency of slime. And the colors! Whites, yellows, oranges, purples, tans, greens - and even some that are a showstopping blue.

And maybe that’s what makes it so fun. You are likely to see something new on almost every trek. Mushroom books are hundreds of pages in length, and to properly identify some, a spore print or microscope is needed.

My greatest find this year was something I’d been hoping to see forever: king boletes, otherwise known as porcini. I found a row of them, standing tall alongside a path. After some research and cross referencing - and even a plea for help from my fungi Facebook friends - I confirmed their identity. It felt like a holiday!

It’s a hobby, and it’s a never-ending study. And if you’re going to eat what you harvest, it can be a matter of life and death.

I go out as much as I can.

Some days, I’ll come home with photographs of deer that I’ve stirred from their sleep, or have stories to tell about bears that were so very close.

And other days, I’ll return with more ticks than mushrooms. My legs get scratched and bloodied by the “sticker bushes” that I know I’m walking through but don’t mind when I’m on the hunt. I get poison ivy quite a bit, and on a recent trip to Maryland, I scored no fungus but the nastiest and itchiest bites from chiggers.

It’s all so very worth it.

You never know what you’ll find, or what you’ll see - even if you don’t have a map.