Deep in Oregon’s Malheur National Forest, a colossal organism lurks beneath the soil, covering an area of 2,385 acres (965 hectares)—roughly the size of 1,665 football fields. This isn’t a monster from a sci-fi movie; it’s a honey mushroom (Armillaria ostoyae), and it holds the title of the largest living organism on Earth.
Discovered in 1998, this fungal giant is estimated to be 2,400 years old, though some scientists believe it could be much older. The mushroom spreads through underground networks of root-like structures called mycelium, which infect and kill trees while absorbing nutrients. Above ground, it appears as clusters of golden mushrooms, but the real action happens below, where its mycelial network weaves a vast, interconnected web.
The Oregon honey mushroom isn’t just big—it’s also destructive. It’s a parasitic fungus that attacks trees, causing root rot and killing entire forests. Despite its deadly habits, the fungus plays a crucial role in ecosystems by breaking down dead wood and recycling nutrients.
Scientists identified the organism’s massive size by analyzing DNA samples from mushrooms across the forest. They found that nearly all the samples were genetically identical, confirming they were part of the same fungal network. This discovery overturned previous records, including a 1,500-acre honey mushroom in Washington state.
The Oregon fungus isn’t just a biological marvel; it’s a reminder of how much we still don’t know about the natural world. Fungi, often overlooked, are essential to life on Earth, from decomposing organic matter to forming symbiotic relationships with plants. The honey mushroom’s sheer size challenges our understanding of what it means to be an organism, blurring the line between individual and ecosystem.
So, next time you stroll through a forest, remember: beneath your feet could lie a fungal network older than the Roman Empire. And if you ever feel small in the grand scheme of things, take comfort in knowing that even the largest organism on Earth is just a humble mushroom. Just don’t invite it to dinner—it might eat your table.
