It was the spring of 1974, I was digging in a field that was just behind our property. Why was I digging in the field? Our neighbor, Mr. Tom, had a fascinating arrowhead collection that he had put together walking the freshly turned field behind our property. I walked that field every year after it had been turned only to come up empty. I have since learned that a nice thunderstorm helps in uncovering those gems that are turned to the surface with a harrower but you don’t know a whole lot when you are young.

Upon completing a lengthy walk and coming up empty handed I vowed that I would find something today or dig a hole to China. I made my way to our garage to retrieve the proper implement for the task at hand. I reviewed the well organized tools hanging from the top of the wall. The post hole digger, with its long T shaped handle would surely get me to China by supper time if I didn’t find anything, however, it would be difficult to get started. The spade, its short handle would be great but the narrow blade would take forever to excavate the amount of ground I had in mind. The round point shovel, its handle was several inches taller than me but that would assist in leveraging a full blade out of the hole once I was a couple feet down. I release it from its place of rest and return to the field. I pick a spot not far out in the field, I don’t want to be too noticeable with the epic dig I’m about to embark on.

I’m three scoops in when my shovel makes contact with something that begins elevating my heart rate. I’m replaying the seconds of the clank and scrape of the blade when the image of a tomahawk scrolls across my brain. My heart rate elevates even more only to the disappointment of learning it’s a piece of brick. I continue. A couple more scoops before another clank. I pull the shovel from the hole and roll it over revealing a toy tractor. A Farmall Super “C” tricycle configuration, a casualty of occupying space reserved for actual farming. I return to digging even though I have fulfilled the vow of “finding something” but instead of satisfaction, I find myself hungrier than ever to find treasure.
I am however growing a bit weary and come to the realization I’m not reaching China today.

I resolve to two more shovels full and I’m done. The last one brings forth a familiar clank. When I pull the shovel out of the hole there is a piece of metal pointing skyward. Kneeling I reach in the hole and pull it out and lay it on the ground. My first thought, another toy, a cap gun but it was heavy. I notice it has a fancy trigger guard and a pin and ring on the bottom of the handle. I gather a stick and begin scraping the dirt off. The more I remove the more I realize it is an actual gun. The years under ground has left it inoperable but it is a great find. The wood on the handle is flaky like shale. It wasn’t until years later when I was looking through a book of handguns that I recognized what kind it was.

That's very cool. Neat story and a great find!
I have also vowed that "someday, I'll find something!"... I'm still looking.

Excellent Hobbie. Great story as well. Thanks.