Today at Nysdam, while pulling bracken from a patch of rare heath, I stumbled across this tiny, shining red button sitting proudly in a cushion of Haircap Moss (Polytrichum commune). It’s a Scarlet Waxcap, Hygrocybe coccinea. A perfect pairing, the moss looking like a miniature pine forest, and the fungus a misplaced Christmas bauble.
It is known locally as Hygrophore écarlate or Scharlaken wasplaat.
The English name “waxcap” comes from the slightly greasy, waxy texture of the cap. The Latin Hygrocybe means “wet head”, from Greek hygros (moist) and kube (head). The species name coccinea simply means “scarlet”. For once the botanists did not overcomplicate things.
In folklore, red-capped fungi are often treated with suspicion, which is understandable when you consider how brazenly they stand out on the forest floor. Old northern European traditions sometimes called them “witch lights”, because their bright colour made them seem like warning lanterns in the grass. Waxcaps were also thought to appear on land that had never been ploughed, making them quiet indicators of untouched, old ground. Modern ecology now confirms this rather neatly.
Toxicity is a simple one. Scarlet Waxcaps are not considered poisonous, but they are not recommended for eating either, mainly because waxcaps as a group are increasingly seen as conservation-priority species. Best enjoyed with eyes and camera only.
Ecologically they are little treasures of nutrient-poor grasslands, heaths and old meadows. When you see waxcaps, you are usually standing somewhere with a long, quiet history and very little fertiliser. Nysdam, with its larch, bracken, heather and mosses, suits them very well.
A tiny spark of scarlet in a green world, reminding us that even while we are tugging out bracken, the forest is quietly getting on with its own business.