Brief-Form Post #40: Active Decay in Monte Sano State Park Wells Memorial Forest

Brief-Form Post #40

I am pleased to add the 40th of my GBH Brief-Form Posts (Less than five minutes to read!) to my website. I get wordy with my routine Posts. I don’t want my enthusiasm for thoroughness and detail to discourage readers. So, I will publish these brief Posts regularly.

Active Decay and Poofing Puffballs

Alabama State Park Northwest District Naturalist Amber Coger and I hiked the Wells Memorial Trail at Monte Sano State Park on December 4, 2024. We found multiple woodland delights: massive grapevines, active decay (and incredible mature puffball mushrooms), and a landscape of sinks, pits, mounds, hummocks, and hollows. The aggregate would have overwhelmed a single Great Blue Heron photo essay. Instead, I offer three distinct Brief-Form essays, this one focusing on active decay and fanciful poofing puffballs.

I photographed this image several year ago. It’s the best photo representation of the magnificent Wells Memorial Forest.

This massive hickory tree toppled across the Wells Trail during the late summer of 2019, five years before my December 4, 2024 venture. I snapped the photo at left on November 16, 2019, before crews cleared a trunk section to provide passage. The April 22, 2020, view is from the stump side of the downed tree taken at the cleared trail. The tree shows no sign of decay; its wood is solid; the bark is intact; the root ball still holds its soil mass.

By December 2024, the root ball had begun to subside as the roots internal to it are decaying; the process of transforming the root ball to a mound or hummock is underway. The bark is sloughing from the trunk. The cut end of the overturned stump is fraying from decay.

I recorded this 58-video depicting the obvious state of decay:

I’ve watched time mark the decay process season after season. I noticed few indications of decay during the first summer. I witnessed an extraordinary blossom of oyster mushrooms in the second…bushel basketsful if foraging were allowed on our state parks. The oysters were few and far between the third year. Since then non edible leathery Trametes and other decomposers have prevailed. Most of the bark no longer remains. The surface sapwood is punky. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.

Over the past several years of drafting these photo essays I’ve strived to hone my skills at estimating the passage of time since a live tree fell based on degree of decay. I am surprised by the rapid pace of decomposition for this grand old hickory. Abundant rainfall, mild climate, and favorable understory moisture environment encourage rapid decay.

Poofing Puffballs

We discovered another hickory, this one on the ground for less than a year. Mature biege puffball mushrooms sprouted from bark fissures. I believe their mycelia are growing surficially on the bark, and not penetrating into the wood. Other deeper decay fungi will colonize to begin the greater task of wood consumption.

I am a lifelong sucker for poofing mature puffballs, as the 32-second video attests:

After our puffball volcano venture, I recalled that in 2009, I suffered a severe case of Hispoplasmosis, a fungal infection common to the Miami River Valley where we lived during that period. I believe our common puffballs are innocent!

Who could resist the urge to puff these magic mushroom dragons!

Fungi are indeed fun in our incredible north Alabama woodlands. We covered enough ground that I considered our trek a good test of my August knee replacement recovery. However, we enjoyed a pace that allowed full exploration and discovery.

Closing

I accept the challenge of distilling these Brief-Form Posts into a single distinct reflection, a task far more elusive than assembling a dozen pithy statements. A single trek along a forested trail discloses only a brief moment in time, obscuring the decades prior and the future ahead, isolating us from the scope and scale of the grand forest cycle of life. Henry David Thoreau captured the sentiment I felt as we explored the Wonder of decay and renewal:

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.