Mushrooms Can Make It Rain—And a Lot More

Damien Meyer/AFP/Getty Images
Damien Meyer/AFP/Getty Images
A fly agaric (Amanita muscaria) fungus grows in the northwestern French city of Thorigne-Fouillard. With its red cap and white spots, the fly agaric is one of the most iconic and distinctive of fungi, renowned for its toxicity and hallucinogenic properties. Image credit: Damien Meyer/AFP/Getty Images

Welcome to the kingdom Fungi: the not-quite-plant, not-quite-animal organisms that have existed for somewhere between 760 million and 1 billion years and somehow have managed to remain full of mysteries. In one of their latest reveals, the fungi have presented us with yet another mysterious trait: They seem to be affecting the weather surrounding their habitats, scientists have found.

In other words, these mostly earth-dwelling organisms can stimulate rain in the atmosphere.

And they can do a lot more than that. Fungi come in all shapes and forms and affect humans and the planet in myriad ways. Whether you’re a mycophagist with exceptional taste for exotic mushrooms, a beer enthusiast, a sufferer of athlete’s foot, a farmer whose crops are assaulted by rust fungus, or even someone who has never given a single thought to the kingdom Fungi—you’ve crossed paths with them. Yet, scientists estimate they've discovered fewer than 10 percent of all fungal species, and researchers continue to learn new things about their origins, life spans, and relationship with plants and animals.

The finding that these organisms can affect the weather has raised questions about how they could be employed to help us control the weather and what impact they might have on the climate more broadly.

THE OTHER KIND OF MUSHROOM CLOUDS

It all started with sugar—mannitol, to be precise. This sugar alcohol is found in strawberries, pumpkins, candies, and cough drops, among other things. It’s common enough in food products, but scientists initially couldn’t figure out what it was doing in the atmosphere—especially above rainforests. Then they realized the sugar was clinging to spores that had been released in vast quantities above the forests; a single gilled mushroom can release as many as 30,000 spores every second. That, combined with prior research, got fungal biologist Nicholas Money of Miami University and his colleagues wondering about what else those spores did in the atmosphere. Was it possible the spores from mushrooms were actually seeding clouds?

Although “seeding” often describes human-engineered attempts to control the weather, clouds really do need condensation nuclei to form precipitation. Before moisture can form rain, snow, sleet or hail, it needs to form water droplets. In a process known as “super-cooling,” water stays liquid even at temperatures well below 0ºC and remains vapor until it comes in contact with a solid “seed.” This can be a speck of dust, a crystal of ice—or a mushroom spore.

But before Money could know whether spores could act as seeds for rain formation, he first needed to understand the mushrooms’ spore dispersal methods.

“Beautiful feats of evolutionary design can be observed in the fungi,” Money told mental_floss. “They’ve got ways of moving that nothing else in the world utilizes. They use squirt guns that squirt spores into the air. They have a snap-buckling device that launches a massive ball of spores that can travel a distance of many meters. Six meters. Astonishing for a microorganism. They have a mechanism based on the explosive formation of gas bubbles in their cells."

In the case of the gilled mushrooms Money was studying, the spores are propelled by the displacement of water droplets. As one droplet forms and slides down the spore to join a second droplet, the spore shoots into the air from the sudden shift in weight. Having seen water condense around the spore in the dispersal process, Money predicted new droplets would continue to condense even after the spore was airborne. Research in the lab showed that hypothesis to be true.

“Mushrooms are controlling the local weather patterns where there are really high numbers of mushroom spores—not only in rainforests, but also forests in the Northern Hemisphere,” Money said. “It’s not that mushrooms are the sole contributors to rainfall, but their spores may actually stimulate it.” In addition to helping the forest, producing rain is a nice trick for the fungi; they need humid conditions to flourish.

MICROBIAL CLIMATE CONTROL

Rainmaking fungus sounds like good news for the climate, but it’s not the full story of fungi’s effect on climate. Saprotrophic fungi—a group that decomposes a variety of carbon sources, including petroleum, leaf litter, wood, and food products—permeate these plants and materials to unlock nutrients. During the process, they convert carbon into carbon dioxide. This lignocellulose decomposition—meaning the breakdown of lignin and cellulose in the cell walls of plants—is the world’s largest source of carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions, surpassing CO2 emissions from the burning of fossil fuels by a factor of 10. This isn’t to say fungi are the drivers of climate change; in the past, the release of carbon dioxide was balanced by absorption of the gas by plants and photosynthetic microbes.

And it turns out some fungi are helping those plants and microbes absorb and store even more CO2. When talking about climate change, most people immediately think of carbon in the atmosphere. But there’s actually much more carbon in the soil. Scientists estimate there are around 2500 billion tons of carbon in the soil, compared with only 800 billion tons in the atmosphere and 560 billion tons in plant and animal life.

One of the main ways carbon moves into and is stored in the soil is through mycorrhizal fungi, which has a symbiotic relationship with trees. The fungi, which fit broadly into three families, live on tree roots and take carbon from the tree while providing it with nitrogen, phosphorous, water, and micronutrients. A study that looked at the mycorrhizal relationship found that the less common fungi (ectomycorrhizas and ericoid mycorrhizas) help soil store up to 70 percent more carbon than soil filled with the more common mycorrhizal communities. They do this by absorbing more nitrogen, which in turn limits the activity of microorganisms that normally act as decomposers returning carbon to the atmosphere. What this means is that certain fungal types could potentially be harnessed to lock away more carbon—and keep it out of the atmosphere.

“There has been some work looking at bioengineering these fungi,” Greg Mueller, chief scientist and Negaunee Foundation vice president of science at the Chicago Botanic Garden, told mental_floss. He says the goal is to create "a sort of super-mycorrhizal fungi” that could help soil store more carbon than it would do without these specific fungi. But you might run the risk of losing the lesser-understood benefits of fungal biodiversity, Mueller added.

The other problem is mycologists just don’t know what all is out there in the soil. Based on prior sampling, scientists have found there’s more fungal life than anything else—but as for what the fungi do and how they function, there hasn’t been enough collected yet.

“It’s like there’s this big jar of jelly beans of different colors,” Mueller said. “We go in and grab a handful, but we haven’t gotten many colors yet. So far they’re distinct, but we might get repeat colors eventually.”

FUNGI OF THE FUTURE

Given how widespread fungi are, there are potentially numerous applications for bioengineering them to benefit the planet. In addition to harnessing fungi to store more carbon in the soil, scientists have suggested using mycorrhizal fungi to boost crop yields by providing the food plants with extra nutrients. This bio-fertilizer could reduce farmers’ need to use phosphorous fertilizers, which disrupt aquatic life and can cause deadly algal blooms.

The mycorrhizal fungi can also help scientists study climate change and monitor how shifting temperatures are affecting different types of forests. Using satellite imagery, a team at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory was able to detect the hidden network of fungi living among the trees. They discovered that the type of mycorrhizal fungi living with the trees impacts when the trees start growing leaves and when they reach peak greenness. By monitoring changes in these forests, scientists will be able to deduce how each type of fungi reacts to shifts in the climate.

But there’s also a chance that fungi will do as much harm as good. As temperatures warm, the rate at which certain fungal diseases kill plants and animals is rising. The fungal disease called white-nose syndrome has killed millions of bats, and the skin fungus Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Bd) attacks hundreds of species of amphibians around the world.

“Pathogens we’re seeing may become more of a problem because the trees that they attack are being stressed by climate change. What was once a nuisance might become a more important pathogen,” Mueller said.

Money takes an even bleaker view of the problem of climate change. “The biosphere is dependent on microorganisms,” he said. “But I don’t think mushrooms will save the planet, and I would say that most forcibly. The planet is changing, and the biggest philosophical challenge is how we respond to the fact that we damaged things and how we can restore things—if we can.”

Fungi are undoubtedly influential in ways most of us rarely consider. From seeding rain clouds to helping soil soak up carbon, these microbial life forms are having real and powerful impacts on the world—and human activity is having equally important impacts on them. The difficult task ahead of us is to better understand these interactions and whether they offer positive or negative effects on the planet. And while we wait for the scientists to do more research, we should all appreciate the invisible world beneath our feet—and above our heads.

The Horrors of Anglerfish Mating

Masaki Miya et al. "Evolutionary history of anglerfishes (Teleostei: Lophiiformes): a mitogenomic perspective," BMC Evolutionary Biology 10, article number: 58 (2010), Wikimedia Commons // CC BY 2.0
Masaki Miya et al. "Evolutionary history of anglerfishes (Teleostei: Lophiiformes): a mitogenomic perspective," BMC Evolutionary Biology 10, article number: 58 (2010), Wikimedia Commons // CC BY 2.0

When you think of an anglerfish, you probably think of something like the creature above: Big mouth. Gnarly teeth. Lure bobbing from its head. Endless nightmares. 

During the 19th century, when scientists began to discover, describe, and classify anglerfish from a particular branch of the anglerfish family tree—the suborder Ceratioidei—that’s what they thought of, too. The problem was that they were only seeing half the picture. The specimens that they were working with were all female, and they had no idea where the males were or what they looked like. Researchers sometimes found some other fish that seemed to be related based on their body structure, but they lacked the fearsome maw and lure typical of ceratioids and were much smaller—sometimes only as long as 6 or 7 millimeters—and got placed into separate taxonomic groups.

It wasn’t until the 1920s—almost a full century after the first ceratioid was entered into the scientific record—that things started to become a little clearer. In 1922, Icelandic biologist Bjarni Saemundsson discovered a female ceratioid with two of these smaller fish attached to her belly by their snouts. He assumed it was a mother and her babies, but was puzzled by the arrangement.

“I can form no idea of how, or when, the larvae, or young, become attached to the mother. I cannot believe that the male fastens the egg to the female,” he wrote. “This remains a puzzle for some future researchers to solve.”

When Saemundsson kicked the problem down the road, it was Charles Tate Regan, working at the British Museum of Natural History in 1924, who picked it up. Regan also found a smaller fish attached to a female ceratioid. When he dissected it, he realized it wasn’t a different species or the female angler’s child. It was her mate.

The “missing” males had been there all along, just unrecognized and misclassified, and Regan and other scientists, like Norwegian zoologist Albert Eide Parr, soon figured out why the male ceratioids looked so different. They don’t need lures or big mouths and teeth because they don’t hunt, and they don’t hunt because they have the females. The ceratioid male, Regan wrote, is “merely an appendage of the female, and entirely dependent on her for nutrition.” In other words, a parasite.

When ceratioid males go looking for love, they follow a species-specific pheromone to a female, who will often aid their search further by flashing her bioluminescent lure. Once the male finds a suitable mate, he bites into her belly and latches on until his body fuses with hers. Their skin joins together, and so do their blood vessels, which allows the male to take all the nutrients he needs from his host/mate’s blood. The two fish essentially become one.

With his body attached to hers like this, the male doesn't have to trouble himself with things like seeing or swimming or eating like a normal fish. The body parts he doesn’t need anymore—eyes, fins, and some internal organs—atrophy, degenerate, and wither away, until he’s little more than a lump of flesh hanging from the female, taking food from her and providing sperm whenever she’s ready to spawn.

Extreme size differences between the sexes and parasitic mating aren’t found in all anglerfish. Throughout the other suborders, there are males that are free-swimming their whole lives, that can hunt on their own and that only attach to the females temporarily to reproduce before moving along. For deep-sea ceratioids that might only rarely bump into each other in the abyss, though, the weird mating ritual is a necessary adaptation to keep mates close at hand and ensure that there will always be more little anglerfish. And for us, it’s something to both marvel and cringe at, a reminder that the natural world is often as strange as any fiction we can imagine.

Naturalist William Beebe put it nicely in 1938, writing, “But to be driven by impelling odor headlong upon a mate so gigantic, in such immense and forbidding darkness, and willfully eat a hole in her soft side, to feel the gradually increasing transfusion of her blood through one’s veins, to lose everything that marked one as other than a worm, to become a brainless, senseless thing that was a fish—this is sheer fiction, beyond all belief unless we have seen the proof of it.”

10 Facts About the Winter Solstice, the Shortest Day of the Year

Matt Cardy/Getty Images
Matt Cardy/Getty Images

Amid the whirl of the holiday season, many are vaguely aware of the approach of the winter solstice, but how much do you really know about it? Whether you're a fan of winter or just wish it would go away, here are 10 things to note—or even celebrate—about the shortest day of the year.

1. The winter solstice HAPPENS ON DECEMBER 21/22 in 2019.

Sun setting behind a tree in the winter
buxtree/iStock via Getty Images

The date of the winter solstice varies from year to year, and can fall anywhere between December 20 and December 23, with the 21st or 22nd being the most common dates. The reason for this is because the tropical year—the time it takes for the sun to return to the same spot relative to Earth—is different from the calendar year. The next solstice occurring on December 20 will not happen until 2080, and the next December 23 solstice will not occur until 2303.

2. The winter solstice hAPPENS AT A SPECIFIC, BRIEF MOMENT.

sun setting through the trees
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Not only does the solstice occur on a specific day, but it also occurs at a specific time of day, corresponding to the instant the North Pole is aimed furthest away from the sun on the 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth's axis. This is also the time when the sun shines directly over the Tropic of Capricorn. In 2019, this moment occurs at 4:19 a.m. UTC (Coordinated Universal Time) on December 22. For those on Eastern Standard Time, the solstice will occur at 11:19 p.m. on December 21. And regardless of where you live, the solstice happens at the same moment for everyone on the planet.

3. The winter solstice mARKS THE LONGEST NIGHT AND SHORTEST DAY OF THE YEAR FOR THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE.

sun setting over Central Park
rmbarricarte/iStock via Getty Images

As most are keenly aware, daylight hours grow shorter and shorter as the winter solstice approaches, and begin to slowly lengthen afterward. It's no wonder that the day of the solstice is referred to in some cultures as the "shortest day of the year" or "extreme of winter." New York City will experience 9 hours and 15 minutes of sunlight, compared to 15 hours and 5 minutes on the summer solstice. Helsinki, Finland, will get 5 hours and 49 minutes of light. Barrow, Alaska, will not have a sunrise at all (and hasn't since mid-November; its next sunrise will be on January 22), while the North Pole has had no sunrise since October. The South Pole, though, will be basking in the glow of the midnight sun, which won't set until March.

4. ANCIENT CULTURES VIEWED THE WINTER SOLSTICE AS A TIME OF DEATH AND REBIRTH.

snow on tree branches
Eerik/iStock via Getty Images

The seeming death of the light and very real threat of starvation over the winter months would have weighed heavily on early societies, who held varied solstice celebrations and rites meant to herald the return of the sun and hope for new life. Scandinavian and Germanic pagans lit fires and may have burned Yule logs as a symbolic means of welcoming back the light. Cattle and other animals were slaughtered around midwinter, followed by feasting on what was the last fresh meat for several months. The modern Druidic celebration Alban Arthan reveres the death of the Old Sun and birth of the New Sun.

5. THE  shortest DAY of the year MARKS THE DISCOVERY OF NEW AND STRANGE WORLDS.

Pilgrims landing at Plymouth Rock
Hulton Archive/Getty Images

The Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth on December 21, 1620, to found a society that would allow them to worship freely. On the same day in 1898, Pierre and Marie Curie discovered radium, ushering in an atomic age. And on December 21, 1968, the Apollo 8 spacecraft launched, becoming the first manned moon mission.

6. THE WORD SOLSTICE TRANSLATES ROUGHLY TO "SUN STANDS STILL."

colorful sunset
a_Taiga/iStock via Getty Images

Solstice derives from the Latin scientific term solstitium, containing sol, which means "sun," and the past participle stem of sistere, meaning "to make stand." This comes from the fact that the sun’s position in the sky relative to the horizon at noon, which increases and decreases throughout the year, appears to pause in the days surrounding the solstice. In modern times, we view the phenomenon of the solstice from the position of space, and of the Earth relative to the sun. Earlier people, however, were thinking about the sun's trajectory, how long it stayed in the sky and what sort of light it cast.

7. STONEHENGE IS ALIGNED TO THE SUNSET ON the WINTER SOLSTICE.

Stonehenge sunset
jessicaphoto/iStock via Getty Images

The primary axis of the megalithic monument is oriented to the setting sun, while Newgrange, another structure built around the same time as Stonehenge, lines up with the winter solstice sunrise. Some have theorized that the position of the sun was of religious significance to the people who built Stonehenge, while other theories hold that the monument is constructed along natural features that happen to align with it. The purpose of Stonehenge is still subject to debate, but its importance on the winter solstice continues into the modern era, as thousands of hippies, pagans, and other types of enthusiasts gather there every year to celebrate the occasion.

8. ANCIENT ROMANS CELEBRATED REVERSALS AT THE MIDWINTER FESTIVAL OF SATURNALIA.

Saturnalia parade
A Saturnalia celebration in England in 2012.
Christopher Furlong/Getty Images

The holiday, which began as a festival to honor the agricultural god Saturn, was held to commemorate the dedication of his temple in 497 BCE. It quickly became a time of widespread revelry and debauchery in which societal roles were overturned, with masters serving their slaves and servants being allowed to insult their masters. Mask-wearing and play-acting were also part of Saturnalia's reversals, with each household electing a King of Misrule. Saturnalia was gradually replaced by Christmas throughout the Roman Empire, but many of its customs survive as Christmas traditions.

9. SOME TRADITIONS HOLD THAT DARK SPIRITS WALK THE EARTH ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE.

Snowy woods
Serjio74/iStock via Getty Images

The Iranian festival of Yalda is celebrated on the longest night of the year. In pre-Islamic times, it heralded the birth of Mithra, the ancient sun god, and his triumph over darkness. Zoroastrian lore holds that evil spirits wander the Earth and the forces of the destructive spirit Ahriman are strongest on this long night. People are encouraged to stay up most of the night in the company of one another, eating, talking, and sharing poetry and stories, in order to avoid any brushes with dark entities. Beliefs about the presence of evil on the longest night are also echoed in Celtic and Germanic folklore.

10. SOME THOUGHT THE WORLD WOULD END ON THE 2012 WINTER SOLSTICE.

snowy woods with sun through the trees
Delpixart/iStock via Getty Images

December 21, 2012 corresponds to the date 13.0.0.0.0 in the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar used by the ancient Maya, marking the end of a 5126-year cycle. Some people feared this juncture would bring about the end of the world or some other cataclysmic event. Others took a more New Age-y view (literally) and believed it heralded the birth of a new era of deep transformation for Earth and its inhabitants. In the end, neither of these things appeared to occur, leaving the world to turn through winter solstices indefinitely, or at least as long as the sun lasts.

A version of this story originally ran in 2015.

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