A cool wet summer prepared the earth. Autumn rains tease them out of the ground. Ghosts, wraiths, imps and specters: They appear at night as if evoked by incantations. Midnight mushrumps.
Death cap. Destroying angel. Their names betray our distrust. Something deep in our folk consciousness turns away in revulsion. As we turn away from snakes.
Why the poison? Are they afraid of us too? Of animals, I mean. Afraid we will gobble them up before they have a chance to spread their spores?