TAMING THE WINTER CROWD

 Unless you live in the south, this time of year is spent reminiscing, researching, cleaning, repairing, and planning for spring. The average detectorist puts away his trusted companion and settles into the dreaded "Weary Woes." These woes aren't easily noticed by the general public, but another detectorist can spot them easily. The symptoms include, a noticeable absence from forums and other frequented sites, or posting pics of all the silver for the year, an accumulation of funny pic re posts or an abundance of pics of their dogs. The winter can seem long for those who are geographically disabled. But, what if I told you that there are some fanatic's that are so daring, so brave, so out of their minds, that no matter the temperature, grab their detectors and head out to open fields, trudging on, through lung crushing wind that bring the temp down to 0 or below. Bundled so tight, these warriors stand like scarecrows in harvested corn, bean, and wheat fields. Deflecting the odd looks and occasional hateful comments of the local gossiping hens. All for a scrap of history left by generations long ago. I tell you these guys do exist, I know because I am one...

 I was recently asked, at the local watering hole:" Why are you out there, in the freezing temperatures, with the wind blowing 40 mph, with a stick and a shovel ( the stick was a rude reference to my detector),for hours on end, walking a whole section of plowed fields for? I mean what the hell is so valuable or important that you can't find online or in a store? My cattle even have since enough to come out of the weather, ain't you smarter than a cow son?" 

 I reached into my pocket and pulled out a musket ball, an Indian Head penny, and a spent rim fired 4-10 shell. I put them on the bar, and showed him what my hard work had produced for the day. He was not impressed, and chuckled a little as he looked at me as if to say, "Finally, proof your nuts."

 He asked, " Is that it, how much you think that stuff is worth?"

 I answered " Less then five dollars, but it isn't the worth I am after. This musket ball was fired before main street was built. Maybe at a Native American, A Buffalo, A run away slave, or maybe just a small game animal to ease the belly of a starving soldier or merchant." His eyebrows raised a little as I continued, " This Indian Head Penny is dated 1904, it was dropped by the farmer, slave, or laborer in that field. Almost a whole days wages for a hired hand, a little bit of a loss to the farmer, but if it was a slaves, it represented ownership, hope for the future, or maybe a good loaf of bread and some meat for his family, smuggled from the farmers pantry by the house boy."

 He looked at me with a toothpick in his mouth, his hat tilted up and to the side, his elbow on the bar, and his hand partially covering his lips, as if to hide his comments from the others that were standing shoulder to shoulder at the bar. He said, "There were slaves here? I thought they only had slaves in the south, were we a confederate state?"

 I knew I had him, and with a slight grin said," Kansas was very much a part of the civil war. Though Kansas was still a territory, many battles were fought here. In fact, it is believed that the first shots of the war happened in Eastern Kansas, up around Atchison." By this time the bar had turned an ear to what I was saying, the jukebox had stopped playing and the normal mumbling conversations were over run by the excitement in my voice. I continued," Kansas was split on its stance on slavery. Some towns accepted it and others didn't.  The massacre in Lawrence, Ks was about slavery, Lawrence was a pro slavery town with a lot of political pull in the territory. John Brown, an anti slavery advocate, to put it mildly, rode with his posse into Lawrence, dragged the pro slavery politicians into the street and brutally murdered them with an ax handle and sword." a rumbling of ews and ouches moved like a wave through out the bar. "That was just one of John Browns homicidal escapades during the civil war," I exclaimed loudly as if I was in the days when business, local laws, and political debates were all delivered and discussed in the local tavern.( In fact, in my small town, as in most here in Central Kansas, the local bar is still where you go for information about local sales, agricultural news, and small business deals. It isn't uncommon for 50 to 100 head of cattle to be bought or sold over a hand shake and a beer in most small town bars. In fact in one small town the owner and bartender is the local justice of the peace, notary of the public, and fire chief.)

 Everyone was mumbling to each other and wondering how they walked into a history lesson when somebody piped up and asked, " Well how and the hell did they know which town was which, I mean Stafford had that sign that said no "N" allowed, did they all have that?"

 I stood a little straighter to see who was asking, " No, you could tell real simple then as you can now. The towns with a local square in them were pro slavery towns, the towns with a main street were anti slavery." The discussion got louder as the locals gathered back into their small groups to discuss which town was which and where they would have lived. 

 I turned to the old fella still sitting with that look on his face and said,"What was your question again?" 

 He gave me that classic grunt chuckle that ol' boys do when they get bested while trying to poke a little fun and said, "I think you covered it, your welcome to come out and swing your stick in my fields if you want, hell, I might just follow you around to see what you dig up."

 The next week I was in his field, swinging my "stick". With him a few yards away watching me, and figuring out how to swing a "stick" of his own.