I’d like to write an entertaining story about a recent hunt, because folks always ask me for those. And granted I’ve had some strange, and humorous days out digging, which are always fun to write about afterwards. The problem with that though, is that I can’t just make up random stuff. It actually has to unfold in my experience to have any entertainment value afterwards.
It’s been a while since coming across the Wolfman of Roxbury, so I’m sure I’m due for some bizarre event to take place soon in the field. It hasn’t happened yet, however, and unfortunately my dear friend and hunting partner Jojo has been battling a severe case of Lyme disease, since shortly thereafter, so I haven’t been out as often as usual (hope you’re feeling better and back at it soon Jojo)!
My last weekend went like this… My last hunt like over a month ago went like this… I went back to the cellar hole where I found a reale, half reale, silver knee buckle, two coppers, a few ox knobs, and a pile of miscellaneous buttons. There were only a few hours of daylight left, and it was the kind of cold that’s too cold for me. I dug 3 buttons and either a cattle or dog tag, and I was shivering, but I ignored it and kept on. The site was in an area with a large bear population, so I also spent a good deal of time worrying about and looking around for the creatures, that in my mind were everywhere, but never did appear.
It started to get even colder, so I told myself that I would leave after my next good target, but then I didn’t find anything for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about 20 minutes or so. I didn’t want to let myself down, so I searched on, minute by freezing cold minute, until I got a deep low tone. I convinced myself that it was going to be some neat flat button with a cool design, but nope, instead it was a tiny little plain baby button.
I was puzzled by my lack of button signal -vs- button type prediction gone awry, and even though it wasn’t really a good target, on that particular day it was good enough. Having completed my self imposed, yet somewhat corny mission, I was looking forward to getting out of the cold, into my car, and blasting the heat the entire drive home.
The next day I met up with my friend Kevin who wanted to try a new spot. Actually, two new spots. The first one was a field, which I found nothing in. Kevin found an ox knob, and an unidentified relic, but we didn’t stay long.
The next spot was a park with hiking paths, rock walls, and some weird Frisbee Golf thing going on. We weren’t having much luck, so I made my way towards a rock wall to hunt alongside it. A short while later, I hit upon a weird high tone on my way through a break in the wall. It was a suspect signal, but it was the tone of the high tone part of that tone that made me dig it—did that make sense?
I dug, and found nothing. I went over it again, and it was definitely there. I dug some more, and nothing. To the left, to the right, nothing. After a few minutes I got annoyed, covered the hole, and started to walk away, but I just couldn’t let that signal go. My experience told me there was something there, and to try again. I went back, re-scanned the hole, and dug again, but nothing. I dug deeper, and nothing. I was frustrated as I recovered the hole and scanned it again with my machine. This time it pinpointed about 4 inches to the left. I knew I had it then, but instead pulled out a bent nail. That explained my frustration, but it didn’t explain that high tone part of the tone that made me dig it in the first place. I stuck my pinpointer back in the dirt, poked around with it a bit, and wouldn’t you know, there, buried on it’s side, just a little deeper and to the left of where the nail was, was a silver dime—yay! I was thinking “Well, at least I found a Merc”, but when I brushed the dirt away, it was an 1876 Seated—woo hoo!
It just goes to show that experience and knowing your machine is key. I knew as I was walking away that my machine wasn’t lying to me. I knew my ears weren’t lying to me either. It was the knowledge of my machine that led me to that find, but it was laziness and frustration that almost made me leave it behind. So don’t walk away mad, don’t walk away at all, because you never know.