When people walk through a forest, their eyes are naturally drawn upward toward the canopy or outward across the trails. Few pause to study the fallen logs scattered on the forest floor. Yet these decaying remnants of trees are central to the health of entire ecosystems. They represent not an end, but a vital stage in the cycle of renewal. Hidden within those logs is an army of microscopic workers—fungi—transforming death into life.
One of the scientists who has spent years illuminating this hidden process is Jon Connolly, Sussex-based higher education leader and biologist. Connolly’s research, including published work on the wood decay fungi Resinicium bicolor, reveals how fungi sustain forests by breaking down organic matter, redistributing nutrients, and even interacting with minerals in surprisingly sophisticated ways.
Wood Decay as an Engine of Forest Health
Forests are sustained not just by growth but by decomposition. When fungi attack dead wood, they do more than reduce it to humus. They unlock trapped minerals, alter the chemistry of the soil, and create conditions for new growth. Without decay, ecosystems would stagnate under layers of undecomposed wood. With it, they become resilient and self-sustaining.
Connolly’s research focused on understanding how fungi don’t merely recycle wood but actively move nutrients through forest soils. His work demonstrated that Resinicium bicolor could dissolve minerals like strontianite, liberate strontium ions, and then transport those ions vertically through fungal networks. These ions eventually became incorporated into calcium oxalate crystals within the fungal tissue. In plain terms, the fungus was able to mine nutrients from rock-material deep in the soil and deposit them higher up, where they could influence the growth of plants and other organisms. Connolly chose to study strontium because it is an analog (so to speak) of calcium, but is quite rare. By following strontium, he could compare the exact path of calcium, which is a dominant mineral element in forests.
This process highlights fungi as active participants in forest nutrient cycling. They are not passive decomposers but ecological engineers, shaping the distribution of resources across the forest floor.
The Science of Invisible Pathways
The idea that a fungus can move nutrients across distances may sound improbable. Yet fungal mycelium—the network of microscopic threads that spread through soil and wood—is a remarkably efficient transport system. Nutrients absorbed in one part of the network can be translocated to another, guided by the needs of the organism and its environment.
Connolly’s work with Resinicium bicolor was groundbreaking because it provided experimental evidence that saprotrophic fungi, which break down dead organic matter, can also play a role in vertical nutrient redistribution within the mineral rock component in soils. Before this, most research emphasized the role of mycorrhizal fungi—those associated with living plant roots—in nutrient transport. His findings suggested that even fungi living on decaying wood could weather minerals, solubilize nutrients, and move them through soil layers.
The implications extend beyond forest ecology. Understanding fungal translocation sheds light on how ecosystems remain fertile and balanced. It also underscores the potential of fungi in bioremediation—using living organisms to clean or restore damaged environments.
Crystals in the Forest
One of the most intriguing aspects of Connolly’s research was the discovery of calcium oxalate crystals produced by fungi. These crystals, formed as fungi secrete oxalic acid and react with calcium in their surroundings, serve as storage sites for minerals. Connolly and his collaborators showed that when strontium was present, Resinicium bicolor incorporated it into the crystal lattice. This meant the fungus wasn’t just moving nutrients; it was actively altering their chemical form and storing them for potential future use.
These mineral-studded fungal cords could be seen encrusted with crystals, sometimes forming clusters with unusual “doughnut-shaped” holes through which hyphae threaded. Such images reveal a microscopic world of surprising beauty and complexity. They also demonstrate the dynamic role of fungi in shaping not just organic matter but mineral cycles.
Lessons for Ecology—and Beyond
Research like Connolly’s provides valuable lessons for how we understand resilience in both natural systems and human ones. Forests thrive because they recycle, redistribute, and reinvent resources. Decay is not waste—it is preparation for growth.
This principle applies broadly. Just as fungi weather stone to extract hidden nutrients, organizations and individuals can uncover value in overlooked places. Just as mycelial networks move resources across distances, human systems depend on the fair and transparent distribution of resources. And just as fungal crystals hold reserves for future use, societies are strengthened by building capacity for resilience before crises strike.
The Broader Scientific Legacy
Jon Connolly Sussex built his academic foundation in geology, biology, and forestry before earning a Ph.D. in biological sciences. Along the way, he published scientific articles, presented at conferences, catalyzed two science research institutes, and explored subjects ranging from ecosystem ecology to the finer details of fungal mineralization. His work on Resinicium bicolor stands as part of that legacy—a demonstration of rigorous inquiry into the overlooked but essential world of fungi.
Though Connolly later moved into leadership roles in higher education—serving as a professor, dean, and college president—his scientific background remains central to his perspective. The habits of mind honed in the lab and forest—careful observation, evidence-based reasoning, and respect for complex systems—continue to guide his approach to education and administration.
Why the Science-Geeking Still Matters
In an age when misinformation often clouds public discourse, scientific literacy is more important than ever. Connolly’s career illustrates how deep expertise in a field like fungal ecology can enrich broader conversations about leadership, ethics, and community. By explaining how something as obscure as strontium incorporation in fungal crystals affects whole ecosystems, he underscores a larger truth: details matter, and unseen processes often shape visible outcomes.
For students, faculty, and community members, this message is inspiring. It suggests that curiosity-driven science, even in niche areas, can ripple outward into meaningful applications. For Connolly, highlighting his scientific side is not just about credentials—it’s about reminding people of the value of asking questions and following evidence wherever it leads.
Conclusion
Rotting wood may not capture public imagination the way pristine forests or charismatic wildlife do. But as Jon Connolly’s research demonstrates, the true strength of ecosystems lies in the hidden work of fungi. These organisms dissolve minerals, move nutrients, and build crystals that hold the potential for new growth. In doing so, they embody resilience—turning decay into opportunity, and waste into renewal.
The lesson is simple yet profound: resilience is built in the unseen places, through processes that are slow, patient, and often unrecognized. Just as fungi sustain forests, science sustains understanding. And voices like Connolly’s remind us that behind every fallen log is not an ending, but a beginning.
