Cemetary Dig

[passthebottle]

Thanks guys, I did end up going back there with my camera so stay-tuned for Part 2 with some pictures..

 

[Stardust]

Wonder if there are any spirits in it?

 

[madman]

ORIGINAL: cyberdigger

That ink bottle is a gorgeous find!! []

totaly agree

 

[surfaceone]

I was on the treasure net forum not too long ago and someone's post got "excuse the pun" ....crucified" for doing some treasure hunting on the outskirts of an old cemetary.

Hey Doug,

I'm not finding that thread. I visit that site once in a long while. Could'ya give us a link?

I did notice this from their Beginners guide:

"Q: Where should I dig?
A: There are many places to dig! The most important thing is to make sure you are allowed to dig there! Do your research. Look at old maps. Find where people used to gather, then get permission to dig there! Parks are a good place to start, though they can have a lot of trash targets as well as good stuff. If there is a caretaker, get permission to dig. Private property can also be a good place, but make sure you get permission, in writing, before you start! Federal parks are generally illegal to dig in, so don't try unless you like fines and losing your detector! Cemeteries are also a no no..." From.

I gotta tell a story on myself. There's a very old cemetery in town that is long filled, kinda in disrepair, and backs up to a sorta bluff. It's also in the middle of a pretty dicey slice of the hood. I thought I would do some looking around. I parked in the back of the cemetery, far from the front gate.

This place is more than a little unsettling. Over the years, there has been quite a lot of vandalism. Nature, too, has not been kind.

I took a potato rake and my short warren hoe to the back fence. There were several iron bars missing from the fence back here. I slipped through into a highly overgrown, trash strewn tangle. It was high weeds, down tree limbs, dense undergrowth, incredibly buggy, and there was that barking.

There was also some scattered modern broken glass. The grade was dropping off rapidly, and it really was a terrible tangle at this point. I retraced my steps back to the rear of the fence line. I remember thinking, at the time, that this place would be best explored in the early spring when the vegetation would be down. So true.

I walked the fence line for a bit looking up and down through the wall of green and brown. Couldn't really see much. That barking was getting closer, or rather I was getting closer to some of that barking.I was walking west, and there was a street of homes bordering the cemetery on the west side. The dogs seemed to be barking to one and other.

I wasn't seeing much through the wall of weeds, cattails, and overgrowth, so I kept on. I came out in a little clearing near the back westerly corner. This was the village of the wild doggies.

They were not glad to see me, or possibly they were too glad to see me.

There was one of those old fiberglass igloo type of dog house at the base of an old oak. There were old oil drums. There was compacted dirt trails in all directions. In front of the igloo stood a large dirty grey short haired dog of indiscernible breed. Big dog, massive head, lotsa teeth. He was having a talking snarl-fest with several other dennizens. I seemed to be the topic of the snarling. There was a large red chow mix by the nearest oil drum who was matching him tooth for tooth.

I recognized three of these dogs that always ran as a pack over wide ranging parts of the city. They were hunters.

I was transfixed. This really was a sight. There was a literal village of the wild dogs, and I had disturbed them. I thought it would be a good idea if I went back.

I started to do just that, backing up, slowly. This seemed to agitate them further, and more teeth showed themselves. They started to advance on me.

I turned, and rather than run along the fence line, struck out through the weeds blindly. A lot of the overgrowth was over my head. I was swinging the short hoe like a machete in my haste to get out of there. I was cutting, running and jumping through the weeds. Was that barking getting closer.

I shot through the brambles and the briars trying to get to the railroad tracks that I knew were back this way. I crashed through the weeds down into a mouldy wet ditch, and out through the cattails and onto the tracks. I could still hear barking, but could not see the dogs. I went across the tracks and about a half a mile east, before I could find a way up the other side by a bridge. Adrenaline time...

I climbed up behind and back over a railroad bridge and had to walk the long way back, carrying garden tools through a public housing project, and a main street. No dog bites, mercifully

I got a bit sliced and diced running through all the brush, didn't lose my tools, and gained a bit of a story. The dogs get meaner & uglier with each passing memory.

I haven't been back in 4 or 5 years to check on the doggies, or a fairly likely spot...

 

[old.s.bottles]

I would be careful digging around cemetaries, even the outskirts. I took an archaeology class, the state archie said digging around cemetaries is not a smart idea because a lot of the times the poor didnt have stone tombstones but rather wood crosses that disintegrated away. When they put that stone wall around the cemetary, they could have left a few unmarked graves on the outside walls. I'm no archaeologist and I'm not telling anyone what to do, but his reasons make sense and I figured I would pass the info on. Atleast keep the hole to a maximum of 5 1/2 feet. []

 

[beendiggin]

That's a great looking ink. A keeper for sure.