Late November’s weather provided a barnstorming performance. Temperatures plunged but were then wrenched into a steep climb. Gales flipped everything over before the nosedive into frost began again. Into December and a morning of half-hearted drizzle and still but warmer air seemed exceptional. Low cloud settled on the purplish crowns of birches; the bronze moor muted with dampness. A sudden crackling exchange between two jays simply emphasised how quiet it was. “A vacant sameness grays the sky,” as Thomas Hardy put it. Nothing to see here.
Except, of course, there was. In the blunted light, something complicated and yellowy orange was reaching out from the tangled grass at my feet. This was meadow coral, its Latin name, corniculata, catching nicely the antler-like structures of this exquisite fungus. Although not rare, the unimproved grassland it thrives on is rare these days. This piece of rough pasture is nibbled enough for the coral to show off its complex potential. In longer grass, its branches tend to stretch and become simpler. Here, it could luxuriate in all its strangeness, like one of Mondrian’s chrysanthemums, except with horns, like those of the red deer that often browse in the neighbouring woodland.
Meadow coral is saprotrophic, meaning its delicate filaments below ground digest the nutrients in decaying organic matter, chemically breaking into cells in an elegant smash and grab. The sum of these filaments, or hyphae, makes up its mycelium, spreading out beneath my feet underground, threading its way through the soil, tangling itself in the ebb and flow of life. The swarm of intertwined orange tendrils two inches above ground are simply the fruiting body of a much more extensive organism.
The colour is a clue that this fungus’s appearance above ground will shortly end. They fruit between June and November, at first pale yellow in colour and darkening as time passes. Convention says their odour is unremarkable, but when I bring my nose against it, I sense a strong, chemical smell, almost like aniseed. Drama over, I get back to my feet and take this new mystery home.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
