Funny Things that Happen While Detecting

[streetshark1966]

I had a mail man ask me what i was marking. The city had been marking gas and water lines all over town. I replide nothing iam just metal detecting and went on his way.

[sgtwilks]

Ive had a blast with the people Ive met searching. To date no issues or complaints. People ask me questions I answer the best I can,I always stop what I'm doing and speak to them. Many tell me of places to search.

The ring I returned stung a little but was rewarding.I have permission to search the VFW hall grounds.

The more positive image you project the better it is for the hobby.

[Spike 7.62]

I've had a lot of fun reading these

Previously I've said I'm looking for bombs, and in my area that is actually a concern. Tens of thousands of WWI, WWII and Cold War ordnance was dumped all along the NJ coast (including mustard gas shells and rockets) and almost every summer the US Army Corps of Engineers comes out and cordons off part of the beach because they've pulled out some bombs. In 2007 the Army removed over 1,000 artillery shells, rockets, fuzes and other military hardware from 2 NJ beaches. That's what I remember from the newspaper anyway. We have t-shirts that say "LBI will blow you away!".

So when I say I'm searching for ordnance anyone familiar with that issue (a lot of people are) usually say "oh god, here?" and leave me alone. I have probably been the cause of several calls to the authorities. Actually I stopped using the "bomb" joke because I might actually scare somebody.

By the way, it is illegal to search for ordnance and I have never done that. My targets are old coins and jewelry.

[Tin-Tin]

I'm not sure this story is funny, but it did pull at my heart strings a number of years back.

It was on a saturday, early may of 1999 when I got the urge to do so MDing at a small park in a town some 50 miles from my home. I awoke before dawn, packed extra batteries, fresh water and I headed out. I found the one and only park they had rather easy, with a small steam running behind it. The town maybe had less than 300 people living there, but the park was as old as the town itself.

It was early in the day when I first pulled up, with a few children running wild on the two lane black top road, but very few people even looked my way. I thought it was because I might have been the only caucasan male dumb enough to MD the park, seeing how most of the people living there were African-American. It was an old town with one stop sign and an old water tower looming over their heads.

I had all of my gear either hanging off me, or in my hand when I first started out. With the car doors locked I wasn't bothered until around noon. That's when the Mrs. Bee woke up to find me MDing in her park. A few people came over, asking the normal questions, but quickly walked away after learning what I was doing.

Mrs. Bee came up behind me while I was pulling yet another wheatie out of the ground and tapped me on the shoulder. (Seeing how I had headphones on, I didn't hear her at first).

She was old, with dark wrinkled skin that looked like a walnut, with short, snow white hair, but her large brown eyes were sharp and clear. She leaned on an old croaked cane and smiled at me before she introduced herself. "Mrs. Bee", was the oldest living person living in the small town. She asked what I was doing, and if I had found anything of value. I showed her everything, including the trash. Rusty nails, pieces of iron, pull tops etc. which she was thankful for having it gone, even though it didn't leave too much of a threat at that time. (Everything was buried at least 4-6 inches deep)

She then started talking about when she was first married. She and her late husband would have picnics in the park, down by the stream. She told me they had lost their wedding rings somewhere in the park during a 4th of July fireworks display back in 1943, and were never able to find them. She didn't say why they took them off, only that they were now lost. Her husband had placed them in his shirt pocket, for safe keeping he would say.

This woman had pride, and it showed.

She then asked if I could try to find her rings, showing me where they were sitting and where they went during that time. She pointed out where every carnaval stand and rides sat, what the games were and what each game and ride cost to play. Scanning the area I hit a gold mine of coins, toys and what-not, but no rings.

She mentioned it started to sprinkle soon after the fireworks were over, and she, her late husband and a few friends ran to a large oak tree, that once sat in the center of the park until the rain stopped.

"A big oak tree, some hundred years old sat there," pointing at a very large old stump where the tree one sat. She told me many a child climbed its limbs, or sitting there under its wide branches during hot summer nights sipping Coca -cola in 10 oz. bottles. (I knew that, after finding a boat load of rusty bottle caps).

"Not once was it ever hit by lightning. We knew we were safe under those limbs."

So I started to search around the tree trunk and sure enough, I hit silver. I pull out a beautiful silver ring, with a nice red gem surrounded by four diamonds. It was dirty, but it was indeed beautiful. I washed it off with the water I was carrying and handed it over.

Mrs. Bee held it in her hand, turning and staring at it carefully. She then shook her head. "Sorry son, that's not mine," and she handed it back. I was shocked. (The ring was later valued at over $2,400)

Placing the ring deep into my pocket, I started sweeping the area around the tree trunk once again, getting another good signal. Needless to say after the third ring, I was about to give up. The other two rings were mens gold wedding band, value turned out to be $300.00 a piece.

Sweaping the area away from around the trunk, near the roots I hit another signal, but this time it was a very weak signal and I kept hearing an echo in my headphones. Getting on our hands and knees I started to dig around a large root, looking for our next find. Mrs. Bee using her cane, pulled the dirt out from under the root. It was getting close to sunset, I had dug down to 8" when I first saw them.

After careful digging, I unearthed two rings, both faded gold in color. But both were quite thin from age and wear. I thought then and there Mrs. Bee was going to have a heart attack. She was waving her arms in the air and screaming for all to hear.

"Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord! He's found my rings, God have mercy he's found my rings."

I had indeed found their rings. After washing them off in water I learned Mrs Bee and her late husband were dirt poor farmers when they were first married. They didn't have two coins to rub together, but a traveling salesman traded them the rings for an old plow horse they had on the property. It seems he was tired of walking trying to sale his wares and decided to ride the rest of the way home. She could not understand why anyone selling brushes had a set of gold rings on them, but her husband at that time didn't care.

"It was an act of god," he told her. She never denied it. She hated that old plow horse.

Now everyone in town came running into the park. Everyone wanted to look and touch Mrs' Bee's rings, everyone praising the lord for her good fortune. I sat there, with my back pressed against the stump, one arm holding me up, my headphones resting on my shoulders. My MD was resting between my legs, so it wouldn't get trampled. My balding head was sunburned, I was sweaty, my fingersnails were brokn and dirty and I was dying of thirst, but I could not get that s^!#-eating smile off my face.

"We did it Mrs. Bee," I remember whispering.

My back started to hurt from all of the 'That-a-boy' and 'god bless you' remarks, and I stopped counting the offers to stay for dinner after twenty.
I was offered a nice cold bottle of Coka-cola which I drank down in two large gulps, and the best fried chicken I had ever tasted in my life. (Sorry Mom!)

It even beat KFC, it was that good. By the time I got ready to go, until the time I closed my car door, Mrs Bee was hanging on to me, thanking god for allowing me to find her wedding rings. As I drove away I watch her clutching the rings against her chest, with tears falling down both cheeks. The whole town stood behind her, waving as I drove away.

I later learned I was the first, and only person to ever MD that park. Anyone else who tried has been ran off. (Or so I'm told) I knew there would be more treasure to unearth there, but I never went back after that day.

Until July 5th, 2001.

I received a phone call the night before that had cut me to the core.

Mrs. Bee had passed away in her sleep July 4th, 2001. She was 98. In her right hand, clutched tight to her chest was her husbands ring, on her left ring finger her thin, gold ring rested there. They say she showed no pain, only a soft smile on her lips.

I said my final goodby that day, and placed two full 10oz. coca-cola bottle beside her. The whole town turned out to see her off. After that we have a great wake in the park, with fine southern food, ice cold bottles of coke and RC cola, and the best fried chicken this side of the Mississippi. I learned what Grits tasted like, but never had another plate after the first one.

I sat on that old stump, a balding gray mustached old man, staring at the root I had to dig under to find Mrs'. Bee's rings and I smiled as firework lit up the night sky overhead. Life was good, and I still think back to that fateful day when I made a whole town very happy.

I still hear from Mrs. Bee only daughter, telling me someone has left two full 10oz bottles of cola on her grave, every 4th of July since that fateful night.

"Was it me?" she keeps asking. I'm still not talking, but I do know a great lawyer...

[Rudy]

That was a moving story Tin-Tin.

[It's A Trap!]

Amazing story!

[Tin-Tin]

Thanks guys,

It's not every day one can feel like they were on top of the world, but I felt that way that day. Every time I dig up a ring, or drink a cold coke from a 10 oz bottle, I think of Mrs. Bee and her rings.

Its been over 12 years but a day doesn't go by when I thank the good lord I'm still here, doing what I love. I've been digging in the dirt for as long as I can walk. Now I have a reason to dig and not get into trouble for getting dirty. (hmmm, great tag line, don't you think?)

I still have to strip in the mud room before coming into the house though. The wife hates it when I forget and rush toward the kitchen sink to clean the things I've found.

I keep telling her I need to plum a sink into the mud room, but I would have to pull the washer and dryer out first.

You would think I shot the dog, from the reaction I get whenever I bring that subject up.

Some things are just taboo I guess.

HH and keep digging!

[sonoman06]

Tin-Tin, I have to tell you brother, my eyes are so blurry from tears I can barely see to type. That is one of the most moving stories I think I've ever read. Those are truly the type of stories that make life worth living and death just a little bit more peaceful. I wish all of us could experience more situations like that.

If you're not writing books already. I think it might be time to start. If the story happened to the average Joe, he would not have been able to write it well enough to jerk tears from my eyes.
I'm still geared up.

Nice job!

[Dark Chameleon]

Originally Posted by Tin-Tin

Thanks guys,

It's not every day one can feel like they were on top of the world, but I felt that way that day. Every time I dig up a ring, or drink a cold coke from a 10 oz bottle, I think of Mrs. Bee and her rings.

Its been over 12 years but a day doesn't go by when I thank the good lord I'm still here, doing what I love. I've been digging in the dirt for as long as I can walk. Now I have a reason to dig and not get into trouble for getting dirty. (hmmm, great tag line, don't you think?)

I still have to strip in the mud room before coming into the house though. The wife hates it when I forget and rush toward the kitchen sink to clean the things I've found.

I keep telling her I need to plum a sink into the mud room, but I would have to pull the washer and dryer out first.

You would think I shot the dog, from the reaction I get whenever I bring that subject up.

Some things are just taboo I guess.

HH and keep digging!

I good ring found and resized and she might mellow on the walking straight in....my wife can pick out the shiney stuff before i even sit down to scan over the pile of dirt

[Dark Chameleon]

Originally Posted by booyaa51

I was hunting a few years back in an old girl friends front yard, near a high school and when it let out a hot rod mustang drove by and yelled at me, I didn't hear what they said but I saw them turn around so I took off my head phones....and I watched them come back, the passenger is half way out of the window and then throws a handful of change at me and yells " heres some beer money old man"...

funny thing is I found a nice ring about two minutes after they decided to give me about 3 bucks in change...easy battery money !!!!

Hopefully it fell off the hand of the idiot throwing the change...now that would be justice...lol

[Diggin Funatic]

Originally Posted by Detector

I had a sweet old lady ask us if we were going fish. Fishing? I thought, then she went on to say she had never seen a gadget like ours. She thought we were using our detectors to shock worms and bring them to the top were we would then pick them out of the ground.

That's a good one. But I can understand her line of thinking since my grandfather who loved fishing used an electric rod to bring worms to the surface. It was fun to watch as kids - though I'd hate to have been one of the worms. Do they even make those rods anymore? I wonder if anyone was ever killed using one?

[beerdoodle]

Originally Posted by Diggin Funatic

That's a good one. But I can understand her line of thinking since my grandfather who loved fishing used an electric rod to bring worms to the surface. It was fun to watch as kids - though I'd hate to have been one of the worms. Do they even make those rods anymore? I wonder if anyone was ever killed using one?

They are easy to make. Been shocked a few times getting too close to the probe.

Dont think enuff amps to kill anyone, hell barely makes the worms squirm............................

[alumaman]

A couple young girls walked up to me the other day and after staring at my fiskar big grip for a bit one said, sir, Your a big guy, why do you need to carry a knife in the park. I laughed and told her theres alot of bigger people then me out there. After which i explained it was for digging.

[Pennyfinder]

A funny thing happened this afternoon. I went out again but only found clad -- a little over a dollar. A kid followed me around talking to me (too bad I didn't have my headphones). But she helped me hunt some in the wood chips with her hands (think she was about 7-9 yrs old). Ironically, she asked if I had ever found a "gold dollar". Okay I'm at the school where I found it (the day before) and I thought oh here it comes -- she's the one that lost it. But no, she did lose one -- but last year and at a different school. WHEW -- I pretended I hadn't found one. When she said she lost hers elsewhere, I just kept quiet.

[SilverMap]

Originally Posted by SeabeeRon

That is sooo wrong it's really funny!! I was a Seabee from '69 - '72, thanks for serving.

I really want to tell somone I'm looking for my marbles and that I lost them alitte while ago

or my hopes and dreams

[SilverMap]

Originally Posted by Olds Digger

I just began hunting again so not many stories. I am thinking of carrying this pic around and say Im looking for this dangerous sign that recently came up missing....

thats my avatar

[RyanChappell]

Originally Posted by Michaeltime

If kids follow me I find a zinc which I don't care to dig and tell them there is a coin right here and you can dig it up and keep it. I move on and let them work at finding it. It don't last long if they can't find the penny they stop following you. People stop me to talk all the time with interest of getting into detecting and I talk so much it drives them away. I am just so full of advice for them. I enjoy my talks with others that detect on my curb strip detecting and they seem so excited to see me and talk about their stories. I get a lot out of it. I get invited into yards to search and advice on where I might try , sometimes some history of the area. Never miss the chance to get free information of the area from a old man or lady. Talking 80 plus years old.
M6 Mike

One of these days that zinc signal is going to be a Huge class ring. What will you do then?

[jmorton04]

Originally Posted by Tin-Tin

I'm not sure this story is funny, but it did pull at my heart strings a number of years back.

It was on a saturday, early may of 1999 when I got the urge to do so MDing at a small park in a town some 50 miles from my home. I awoke before dawn, packed extra batteries, fresh water and I headed out. I found the one and only park they had rather easy, with a small steam running behind it. The town maybe had less than 300 people living there, but the park was as old as the town itself.

It was early in the day when I first pulled up, with a few children running wild on the two lane black top road, but very few people even looked my way. I thought it was because I might have been the only caucasan male dumb enough to MD the park, seeing how most of the people living there were African-American. It was an old town with one stop sign and an old water tower looming over their heads.

I had all of my gear either hanging off me, or in my hand when I first started out. With the car doors locked I wasn't bothered until around noon. That's when the Mrs. Bee woke up to find me MDing in her park. A few people came over, asking the normal questions, but quickly walked away after learning what I was doing.

Mrs. Bee came up behind me while I was pulling yet another wheatie out of the ground and tapped me on the shoulder. (Seeing how I had headphones on, I didn't hear her at first).

She was old, with dark wrinkled skin that looked like a walnut, with short, snow white hair, but her large brown eyes were sharp and clear. She leaned on an old croaked cane and smiled at me before she introduced herself. "Mrs. Bee", was the oldest living person living in the small town. She asked what I was doing, and if I had found anything of value. I showed her everything, including the trash. Rusty nails, pieces of iron, pull tops etc. which she was thankful for having it gone, even though it didn't leave too much of a threat at that time. (Everything was buried at least 4-6 inches deep)

She then started talking about when she was first married. She and her late husband would have picnics in the park, down by the stream. She told me they had lost their wedding rings somewhere in the park during a 4th of July fireworks display back in 1943, and were never able to find them. She didn't say why they took them off, only that they were now lost. Her husband had placed them in his shirt pocket, for safe keeping he would say.

This woman had pride, and it showed.

She then asked if I could try to find her rings, showing me where they were sitting and where they went during that time. She pointed out where every carnaval stand and rides sat, what the games were and what each game and ride cost to play. Scanning the area I hit a gold mine of coins, toys and what-not, but no rings.

She mentioned it started to sprinkle soon after the fireworks were over, and she, her late husband and a few friends ran to a large oak tree, that once sat in the center of the park until the rain stopped.

"A big oak tree, some hundred years old sat there," pointing at a very large old stump where the tree one sat. She told me many a child climbed its limbs, or sitting there under its wide branches during hot summer nights sipping Coca -cola in 10 oz. bottles. (I knew that, after finding a boat load of rusty bottle caps).

"Not once was it ever hit by lightning. We knew we were safe under those limbs."

So I started to search around the tree trunk and sure enough, I hit silver. I pull out a beautiful silver ring, with a nice red gem surrounded by four diamonds. It was dirty, but it was indeed beautiful. I washed it off with the water I was carrying and handed it over.

Mrs. Bee held it in her hand, turning and staring at it carefully. She then shook her head. "Sorry son, that's not mine," and she handed it back. I was shocked. (The ring was later valued at over $2,400)

Placing the ring deep into my pocket, I started sweeping the area around the tree trunk once again, getting another good signal. Needless to say after the third ring, I was about to give up. The other two rings were mens gold wedding band, value turned out to be $300.00 a piece.

Sweaping the area away from around the trunk, near the roots I hit another signal, but this time it was a very weak signal and I kept hearing an echo in my headphones. Getting on our hands and knees I started to dig around a large root, looking for our next find. Mrs. Bee using her cane, pulled the dirt out from under the root. It was getting close to sunset, I had dug down to 8" when I first saw them.

After careful digging, I unearthed two rings, both faded gold in color. But both were quite thin from age and wear. I thought then and there Mrs. Bee was going to have a heart attack. She was waving her arms in the air and screaming for all to hear.

"Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord! He's found my rings, God have mercy he's found my rings."

I had indeed found their rings. After washing them off in water I learned Mrs Bee and her late husband were dirt poor farmers when they were first married. They didn't have two coins to rub together, but a traveling salesman traded them the rings for an old plow horse they had on the property. It seems he was tired of walking trying to sale his wares and decided to ride the rest of the way home. She could not understand why anyone selling brushes had a set of gold rings on them, but her husband at that time didn't care.

"It was an act of god," he told her. She never denied it. She hated that old plow horse.

Now everyone in town came running into the park. Everyone wanted to look and touch Mrs' Bee's rings, everyone praising the lord for her good fortune. I sat there, with my back pressed against the stump, one arm holding me up, my headphones resting on my shoulders. My MD was resting between my legs, so it wouldn't get trampled. My balding head was sunburned, I was sweaty, my fingersnails were brokn and dirty and I was dying of thirst, but I could not get that s^!#-eating smile off my face.

"We did it Mrs. Bee," I remember whispering.

My back started to hurt from all of the 'That-a-boy' and 'god bless you' remarks, and I stopped counting the offers to stay for dinner after twenty.
I was offered a nice cold bottle of Coka-cola which I drank down in two large gulps, and the best fried chicken I had ever tasted in my life. (Sorry Mom!)

It even beat KFC, it was that good. By the time I got ready to go, until the time I closed my car door, Mrs Bee was hanging on to me, thanking god for allowing me to find her wedding rings. As I drove away I watch her clutching the rings against her chest, with tears falling down both cheeks. The whole town stood behind her, waving as I drove away.

I later learned I was the first, and only person to ever MD that park. Anyone else who tried has been ran off. (Or so I'm told) I knew there would be more treasure to unearth there, but I never went back after that day.

Until July 5th, 2001.

I received a phone call the night before that had cut me to the core.

Mrs. Bee had passed away in her sleep July 4th, 2001. She was 98. In her right hand, clutched tight to her chest was her husbands ring, on her left ring finger her thin, gold ring rested there. They say she showed no pain, only a soft smile on her lips.

I said my final goodby that day, and placed two full 10oz. coca-cola bottle beside her. The whole town turned out to see her off. After that we have a great wake in the park, with fine southern food, ice cold bottles of coke and RC cola, and the best fried chicken this side of the Mississippi. I learned what Grits tasted like, but never had another plate after the first one.

I sat on that old stump, a balding gray mustached old man, staring at the root I had to dig under to find Mrs'. Bee's rings and I smiled as firework lit up the night sky overhead. Life was good, and I still think back to that fateful day when I made a whole town very happy.

I still hear from Mrs. Bee only daughter, telling me someone has left two full 10oz bottles of cola on her grave, every 4th of July since that fateful night.

"Was it me?" she keeps asking. I'm still not talking, but I do know a great lawyer...

Great story and very well written. Did you get the recipe for the Fried Chicken?
HH,
John Morton

[Isaac43]

Originally Posted by crabtracker

was detecting at the abandoned playground and swimming pool area of an apartment complex, no playground equipment left, pool was filled in,just a wooded area with a set of old steps going down the hill into the woods.I had my dog with me and as I went along getting signals and digging targets he was watching me intently,all of a sudden he goes to a spot about 3ft away and begins to sniff the ground,then he starts to dig.I see what he is doing and say OK OK I'll check that hole in a minute. I run the detector over the hole, which is about 8 inches deep by this time and get a signal that almost blew my head phones off.I pull out a nice 1940s tootsie toy,swing back over the hole and big signal again, another one. ended with 3 nice ones out of the one hole. needless to say my buddy got a treat when we got back to the truck. I guess i shouldn't be too surprised as he was 1/2 Bloodhound.

That's the new Pin Pointer.

[aviationgale]

When people ask what I find or have found I tell them, a back ache & sun burn.