Calling all fungal associates, we need you to take our listener survey at gum.fm slash

trees. Yes, you know this, we know this. There are ads on our podcast and we want to improve

that experience for you, our audience. In order to do this, we need to know a little bit

more about you. And that's why we have a listener survey at gum.fm slash trees.

That's right. Go to gum.fm slash trees and check out that listener survey. We are trying to

change what we've done in terms of our advertising. And in order to do that best and make sure that

you are getting something that's germane, that's not telling you to go to some crazy place to do

some crazy thing, we want to curate this experience because Alex, it's a necessary evil. So

we have to figure out how best we can do it to be palatable for everybody. That's right, Casey.

And the listener survey is a quick, easy and free way to support this podcast. It'll take you

about two minutes. I did it myself. So go take that survey again that is gum.fm slash trees.

It's all anonymous and you're helping us out so much by doing it. That's gum.fmgum.fm slash trees.

Thanks everybody. There is a tree that lurks in the dark.

A tree that sees the darkness that knows just how long the night lasts. It's watching.

All through the day, it seems to stand visual, motionless, but for the breeze.

Yet like a gargoyle arching over its domain, its eyes ever staring outwards,

the trees leaves watch for dusk, knowing that night will soon follow.

All through the night, it watches still, scanning the horizon, knowing that the long night was over.

It prowls the prairies and savannas and the dark forests, thorns bristling from its trunk,

so sharp even to strike shrieks and doesn't dare come near. It's larder of impaled vermin kept on a

less fearsome tree. It's searching for giant bears nearly twice the size of a grizzly,

mammoths with mighty tusks, sixteen feet long. For gum for fears, giant elephant-like beasts

...