Here today, gone tomorrow.

That is the motto of a mushroom that I was lucky to observe during its very brief lifetime. With a maximum existence of about 24 hours, only the quick and observant might find a pleated inkcap mushroom and only after a period of rain.

I noticed a few specimens upon returning from an early morning run. At 6:45 a.m, their caps were upwardly facing, an indication that these were already at the end of their lifetime.

These fleeting fungi emerge suddenly after a rain and appear with an egg-shaped cap before its cap swiftly expanding to resemble a parasol. The mushroom cap’s edges will continue to open and spread upward, looking like an inside out umbrella, which allows for its spores to be held aloft and be caught and spread by wind. These outward edges turn black as the mushroom melts unto itself in a form of autodigestion, caused by the sun and its own weight, which liquifies it into oblivion.

The act of liquification is called deliquescence and the black melted mushroom fluid is what is considered its namesake ink. This goo has in the past and can still be used as writing ink. As a small mushroom with its cap maxing out at an inch and a quarter, lots of ink (and ink cap mushrooms) would be required for even the briefest prose.

That tell-tale shape of the cap inspires some of the common names for this species which includes pleated parasol, pleated inkcap and little Japanese umbrella. Its scientific name has had at least three evolutions before growing into its current nomenclature.

British mycologist William Curtis in 1777 first described this variety as an Agaricus mushroom, though his name was not accurate as the mushroom did not belong in that genus and so did not stick. In 1838, a Swedish mycologist moved this mushroom to the genus Coprinus until finally, after DNA analysis in 2001, it became Parasola plicatilis, or pleated parasol.

Identifying the pleated parasol is relatively easy, though to confirm, observe the black spore print and almond-shaped spores. Spore prints can be seen when the mushroom cap is removed and put onto a piece of white paper. The spores will drop and show when the cap is lifted off the paper.

Another characteristic to consider is that these mushrooms are unscented and have no taste. Not that you would want to eat them since the pleated parasols will likely liquify itself before you have a chance to collect or try to consume it. This fragile fungus also seems slimy as it melts, so not appealing for anyone’s meal (except maybe a slug or snail). However, it is not poisonous in case you are curious.

Pleated parasols do play a role in our environment. As saprobes, they serve to decompose organic matter. Usually residing in lawns, though sometimes on soil, this specie’s mycelium (root-like threads) will break down whatever serves to support it.

By the time I returned from work, the magic mushroom had made itself disappear. Truly a terrific trick for an enchanting ephemeral and one that inspired poet Percy Bysshe Shelly, who penned this honorarium to shrinking shrooms (though not in ink cap ink):

“Their mass rotted off them flake by flake / Til the thick stalk stuck like a murderer’s take, / Where rags of loose flesh yet tremble on high / Infecting the winds that wander by.”

Suzan Bellincampi is director of the Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary in Edgartown, and author of Martha’s Vineyard: A Field Guide to Island Nature and The Nature of Martha’s Vineyard.