Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T L Y M O N T A N A M A G A Z I N E • S P R I N G 2 0 1 9 30 I've been hunting morels in western Montana for something over 40 years. Since at least two and possibly four species of morels, as well as over 100 other mushroom species, fruit exclusively after a forest has burned, the spring after a forest fire is a good time to look. Every season I make it a point to visit as many burn sites as possible. Last year that was a tall order, as we had close to a quarter of a million acres burn in a couple dozen fires. Over the past decades, morel hunting has changed quite a bit. In the 1980s, the fire reports were issued in single line entries, with the name of the fire, township and range (later to lat/long coordinates), aspect, slope, elevation, vegetation cover, and start date. Go get 'em, boys! at was all you had to go on. So out we went, tracing our way along whatever roads were open to get as close to the start point as we could, scanning the ridges for brown or red trees to locate the burn site. In the Ninemile burn of 2002, I went out to scope things out in May, and found the little darlings had poked up earlier than I'd expected. So I went down to Charley B's and shook the barstools for pickers. Sure enough, three or four guys decided that a paid walk in the woods was a fine idea, and by the time the Forest Service law enforcement officer showed up on the hill we were all busy filling our baskets. "I'm looking for Larry Evans!" he hollered from the window of his green and white pickup. My new friends all pointed at me. Fame was mine! I made my way down to where his rig was stopped on the road. "Have you got a permit?" the young fellow asked, his voice as growly as he could make it. He already had his citation book in his lap, ready to cite. "I certainly do not," I replied, "Betty Sue at the district said they hadn't got the permits printed up yet when I talked to her yesterday afternoon." e LEO bit his lip at this news, and traded his ticket book for a MYSTERIES MOREL OF THE by LARRY EVANS photos by TIM WHEELER I WAS IN THE CUB FIRE, WEST OF THOMPSON FALLS, PICKING WITH A SMALL GROUP, WHEN GUNSHOTS RANG OUT UP THE VAL- LEY. Not far, maybe a quarter mile away. I hiked up to the road towards the sound when another shot rang out. "ARE YA LOST?" I hollered. "ARE YA LOST BUD? THE ROAD IS UP HERE!" "NO," came the sheepish reply. Never saw the individual after that. Probably embarrassed, as he should be. Not everybody who hunts morels knows their way around the woods. Morchella tomentosa gray morels MYSTERIES MOREL OF THE

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