Candlesnuff

R and I spent the morning sitting around chatting with H and S, but after they’d set off back to the Frozen North (where they’re due to rendezvous with L this weekend at the Leeds International Film Festival) R and I went off about our usual afternoon concerns. Today mine involved exerting myself sufficiently to set up a tripod in the darkest corner of the wild garden, to get some available light shots of fungi – which was an interesting experience, though not without its frustrations. What I learned was this: if the light’s so poor that a a two-second exposure is needed to keep the ISO in the acceptable range, the (small, sleek, light, and highly portable) carbon-fibre tripod won’t cut it, and I’ll need to woman up and lug one of the big guys to the site. Luckily, I also learned that one of the pieces of elder on which my target fungi were growing was detached from the main section of rotting trunk, so I was able to move it to a brighter position and use a faster shutter speed.

The candlesnuff fungus is named for its wick-like shape and two-tone black and white colouration. The Awkward Squad (including me) may object that in a snuffed candle wick the black bit is at the top, but we are where we are. Other common names include the candlestick fungus (but… no, never mind), and – because the white section frequently grows into branched forms – the stag’s horn fungus, and carbon antlers.

This is one of a group that are known as the flask fungi, which are among the last to attack rotting wood, growing on the sugars left after earlier colonisers have broken down the cellulose and lignin of the cell walls. The flask fungi complete the rotting process, reducing the wood to a sugary goo that’s especially attractive to insects but may be eaten by larger creatures as well, and ultimately returning any surplus nutrients to the soil.

Two fun facts about candlesnuff fungi:

Firstly, they’re bioluminescent, meaning that they glow in the dark (unlike, points out the Awkward Squad, a snuffed candle). The effect, which is due to accumulated phosphorus reacting with other chemicals, is so weak that it can’t be seen with the naked eye – so you’d need a very long exposure indeed, and a very stable tripod, to record it. It’s best seen by cutting open a piece of rotting wood and exposing the mycelium – the ‘underground’ network of fungal tubes which support the visible fruiting bodies – because this is where the phosphorous builds up. No-one knows the evolutionary purpose of this bioluminescence, though it’s been speculated that it may attract night-time grazers to eat the fungus, and thus help to disperse its spores.

Secondly, research has shown that the candlesnuff fungus contains several chemicals with either antiviral or anti-tumour properties, and it may eventually turn out to have medicinal uses. However, this doesn’t mean that you should eat it: though its not considered to be poisonous to humans, it’s tough and unpalatable, and is generally described as inedible.