Blowing its trumpet

One of the frequent joys of foraging is to suddenly find something wonderful when there has been nothing to see all morning. Occasionally, I find myself in the woods, coming across the odd inedible mushroom here and there but with nothing for my tea. Slightly deflated, I will rest for a moment, look down and see, camouflaged to near invisibility, the dull brown and wrinkly cap of a mushroom at my feet.

I know straight away that it is a trumpet chanterelle as it is almost impossible to confuse it with anything dangerous. However, I always look for the general trumpet