By Mike Pound

Globe columnist

The guy told me that what he has is a disease.

He told me that he can’t help what he does, nor can he explain why he does it. He just knows that he does it, and he has done it for 30 years. He even admitted that he sometimes does it with his wife. Like a lot of people who have a disease, he didn’t want me to use his name. At first, he didn’t even want to talk to me, but when I agreed that he could remain anonymous, he opened up a little bit.

“It really is a sickness — a genetic defect,” he told me.

That’s it. He has no other way to explain why he hunts wild morel mushrooms. I mean, it would be different if he or his wife truly loved wild mushrooms, but they don’t.

“They’re OK, but we’re not crazy about them,” he said.

Lyndell Wood, of Golden City,

e-mailed me about the mushroom hunter a while back, so the other day I called Lyndell to find out more. Lyndell told me that the guy is the best mushroom hunter in the area — or at least the best he has ever seen.

“But he probably won’t talk to you,” Lyndell said. “He’s not one for publicity.”

I called the mushroom hunter anyway. When he answered the phone, I told him what Lyndell had said.

“He’s right,” the mushroom hunter said.

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. So I said that I told Lyndell that I was going to call the hunter anyway.

“Now you can say you did,” he said.

It was beginning to sound like a tough interview, but after I promised not to use his name, the mushroom hunter opened up. He turned out to be a nice guy with a pretty good sense of humor.