Most remarkable about my sortie, though, is the fungi: on the tree itself, a yellow dryad’s saddle, a bracket fungus; in the field, large parasol mushrooms with their dark nipples; and dog vomit slime mould, like uncooked bread-and-butter pudding. I find a cedar waxcap (distinguished from the snowy waxcap by its leathery smell when crushed) and my favourite, yellow brain fungus (Tremella mesenterica), an orange geometric growth on a dead gorse branch. As I stand unseen in the bracken, the raven returns. It flips itself over and flies upside down, chuckling to itself.