On a dump with Grandpa Vasil. Mushroom radar and the habit of hello

Good health, everyone! Especially the people I want to talk about today. It is their health, as I see from the dump, that is in serious danger. We are talking about those thoughtless citizens who come to our forests for mushrooms not only with an onion, but also with a phone.

I personally met a month ago a girl who was looking for mushrooms and focused on photographing them. He's walking through the woods with a camera scanning moss. As she explained, she sends a picture of the mushroom to a special program on her smartphone, which easily determines the edibility of the find. Even I was proud of the technology. Like, where do you go, lame, who in the old-fashioned way count on their eyes and life experience. I walked with her to marvel at the progress I had made and grabbed my heart

She removed, therefore, a nondescript fungus, which in scientific terms (I later asked my son) is called a row of sulfur-yellow. In our locality, he has long been dubbed a stinker: it always stinks too much from him with tar. She took pictures and proudly showed me the answer. And it says, "Congratulations!" There is an 80% chance that you have found a green color. Of course, it is unlikely that the smartest screen will convey the most caustic stink. And the girl, if she ate this "raw urchin", in the arc would twist from poisoning. I scolded her for trusting the electronic assistant, said that the mushroom has at least a hat on its head, and it has a void on its shoulders. Offended..

Another quiet hunter did something different. Her mushroom detector was not hidden in her smartphone, but sat somewhere in a city apartment. He's a part-time husband. She sent him photos of mushrooms straight from the forest, and he ordered from the sofa: “Take, good mushroom!” It's the hot stuff! So macaroma made a woman send a potato flyfish into a basket, also calling it a raw tooth. Stooges, sometimes you need to turn on your nose, not your camera! This fungus is therefore called that it carries raw peeled potatoes, or even a lying cellar. They also enrolled the web in the prey, because the main dangerous sign of this fungus - a subtle spider net under the hat - the woman simply did not notice, decisively cutting it off with a knife. Both of the last fungus are at least non-poisonous, like a pale grebe. Just inedible. It is impossible to eat them, and their presence in the basket they can spoil the entire forest harvest.

Dear ones, they go for mushrooms in autumn to listen to the forest silence and enjoy the cool fresh air, and not stare at the screens, as you are used to in your city. Finding hats is not the main goal, but a pleasant addition to such a walk. The mushrooms themselves should be known, and not count on the infallibility of electronic helpers. It is a gift that my neighbor and I Mityai spent our whole life among the forests, and now we take only those mushrooms that we know in our face: a borehole, an oilseed, a fox... And even in "empty" years, we collect something for a pan or two or in a salt.

My father used to say that the forest should be tasted and smelled. And the grandfather was so, desperate man was, mushroom hats ripped and the tip of his tongue touched. Like, if a pungent or burning taste, then such a mushroom did not go into the basket. But I do not strictly advise you to do this, now the times are different and the toadstool went a lot evil and cunning. Doctors say she learned to disguise herself as harmless mushrooms. That is, even the dashing mushroom of literacy gained, and people, on the contrary, kind of dumb, relying on allegedly smart programs. In general, take as a strict rule: at the slightest doubt, leave the mushroom in the forest, and do not stick it under the camera of your phone

I also noted such an unpleasant detail for myself: none of the mushroom pickers I met ... did not say hello. However, they are not only in the woods, they also walk the streets in our village – eyes on the floor, I do not notice anyone, I do not nod to anyone. To me, this new custom looks wild. In the village, being born as it happened: a person comes to meet - a friend, a stranger - remove the cartridge, say: "Good health." This is the foundation of life, respect for the neighbor. Now one clearly urban boy said: “Hello”, so he shrugged aside, as if his grandfather wants to take away his wallet. But more often they do not pay attention at all, because they simply do not hear: their ears are always plugged with headphones.

Is this some new fashion for ostentatious insolence or the disease of indifference? One thing is good: my son shares my regret. And then the oil pours into the fire of my grief: “It’s okay, father, that strangers in the village on the street do not say hello ...” In cities, it happens that neighbors at one entrance for years do not know each other by name or face.” The world has gone somewhere wrong..