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~The Unburied~

The other day a guy named Dave stopped by our place in Kimberly, Idaho with a real fancy metal detector.  He said he had noticed that our place was probably at least a hundred years old and had a good chunk of property with it, so he wondered if I would mind him looking around.  I said it was okay with me, but I wanted to accompany him on his search and we should split anything that might be of value. He agreed, so off we went into the pasture. 

We started the search at the northeast corner and slowly walked a straight line as Dave waved his detector back and forth, keeping it close to the ground.  The gadget had blinking lights and made beeps and other sounds. It was high-tech, as they say. Dave had just gotten the thing and was still learning how to use it.  He kept making adjustments, turning knobs and so forth.   

After a short while, his detector began beeping enthusiastically, so we stopped on the spot and I started to dig, using the small camp shovel I'd been carrying. I had dug about six inches when I found a rusty old horseshoe-not worth anything, but I tossed it in the bucket that I also had been lugging. The detector was still beeping, so I continued to dig. Because the beeping was loud and the orange light on the contraption was blinking rapidly, we thought there might be something big down there.  

I dug about a foot-and-a-half, and then thought it might make sense to fetch a larger shovel to speed up the search, so I went to the shed and got a garden shovel. To preserve battery life, Dave turned the detector off until I returned. As I continued to dig and dig, the detector kept beeping and blinking enthusiastically, but I uncovered nothing except unkindly and uncooperative rocks that I tossed out of the hole, which was now about three feet deep. I paused my digging for a moment and asked if he was sure the detector was working properly. He assured me it was- he bought it brand new.

Well, by the time I was standing shoulder-deep in the hole, I told Dave I was ready to give-up the search, but if he wanted to continue digging, I was willing to hold the metal detector. I tossed the shovel out of the hole.  As soon as I did, the detector's beeping and blinking stopped.  

"Good grief, I said to Dave, "we've been 'detecting' the dang shovel!"

D. B. Tompsett