By Anita Odessa
I was a couple of years into foraging when I realized that November posed a particularly gloomy challenge to my outdoor enjoyment.
With all of the leafy delights I loved decaying withered and brown on the ground, I needed an uplifting diversion.
It was around that time that in my quiet evenings, I stumbled on old episodes of the wonderful British comedy series Detectorists, about a small community of hapless metal detecting enthusiasts determined to unearth local treasure. Detectorists is set in the English countryside where a not-impossible chance exists to discover Roman gold or a Saxon hoard. But that didn’t stop me from dreaming that some sort of local treasure might be just waiting for me to discover, right here in the Ganaraska. Surely with my optimism and a good metal detector I could find something! At the very least, a shiny new technological gadget might be just the enticement needed for my teenaged kids to join me again on the occasional hike.
No sooner had I casually started browsing online for metal detectors, when I glanced out the window one day to see a stranger pacing back and forth across the lawn. His head was down in deep concentration as he swung what seemed to be a stick steadily back and forth in front of him like a pendulum. Surely it couldn’t be …a metal detector?
I raced out to the yard and sure enough, with my landlord’s permission, the gentle-man had already discovered an antique pair of silver spectacles and an old brass pocket watch in less than an hour, right there under our feet.
Well, I was hooked! Unfortunately, after repeated hints that I would like to borrow the man’s metal detector, or at least be shown how to use it, he was having none of it. Apparently I would have to acquire a metal detector of my own.
I eventually settled on a state-of-the-art model complete with special accessories: a mesh basket for sifting through Baxter Creek and the mill pond and a bright orange pinpointer dubbed the Carrot, which could be inserted into any hole to point out treasure with expert precision.
My kids were as enthralled as I was in the beginning and I was grateful to have their company back on my outdoor adventures, just like when they were younger. That lasted for at least three occasions. When it sunk in that the beguiling beeps of our metal detector and painstaking excavations with trowel and Carrot were only unearthing nail after nail, our passion for the pastime waned dramatically. These were vintage hand-hewn iron nails with square heads, which were reasonably interesting. Still, after several nails – no pun intended – we had gotten the point.
With my metal detector investment rapidly losing ROI, I decided to make a last-ditch effort to recoup my kids’ attention (and my own) and arranged for us to go metal detecting with friends in the Ganaraska. We were going for Ganaraska gold, I told our expedition party, to universal eye rolls and dwindling positivity.
Alas, even that exploit was proceeding unremarkably– although we were adding property stakes, shotgun pellets and a lot of rusty garbage to our finds – until we were beleagueredly trudging back to the car. On a whim, I turned on the metal detector one last time and it instantly squealed with urgency. Something significant was under us! Something right here!
Finally, the discovery we had been waiting for! My stomach tied in knots as I held my breath, carefully digging a small plug from the ground and inserting the Carrot. We all gathered around the hole and gingerly sifted Ganaraska sand though our fingertips, getting closer and closer to the source of the excitement. Something was coming into view, something that defied all expectation: it was the letter G. We kept brushing away sand until the G was joined by an O, then an L and a D. GOLD. Of all the things buried under all of the Ganaraska, we had dug up a rusted can of Molsen Golden. If I have ever had confirmation that life is laughing at me… or at least, with me… that was it.
Let’s all make sure that when our children go digging for gold in their history, they find more than covered-up junk.
Since then, I have donated all of my metal detecting gear to the Millbrook Branch of the Cavan Monaghan Library. You can now explore the art of metal detecting anytime without having to invest in equipment of your own. I am confident that it will keep you entertained on at least a few occasions.
I, myself, will be digging for another kind of Ganaraska gold this November, which I am guaranteed to find. After a couple of frosts, the tubers of summer’s golden beauty, the common daylily, make a fun if labour – intensive little side dish – think fingerling potatoes, only more like knuckles– worth their weight in late autumn satisfaction.