It was in the depths of a freezing winter night, at -20°C, in a magpie's nest, wedged between two solid branches of a sycamore maple, that this extremely rare phenomenon occurred.
Having accumulated a multitude of silverware from the neighboring castle, the magpies had decided to change location, leaving their booty behind, surely because this large tree was too isolated and therefore at the mercy of the violent winter winds.
One evening of a new moon, silently, at the bottom of the abandoned nest, a strange interaction began between the metal lying there, the sleeping wood and the humidity crystallized by this icy wave.
Despite the bitter frost, within minutes the mushroom spores took on a strange shape, like the shrill cry of a fledgling calling back to its parents in the harshness of winter.