…well, you know the rest of it. Immigrant Woods, I do believe, is hunted out.
I hate that term, being skeptical that any place is ‘hunted out’. However, Friday I was back again, scanning the hillside in two directions: up/down and side-to-side. I dug eveything except solid iron targets, and I mean everything…
… and found nothing.
The honey hole is dry.
I made no secret of its general location, being a wooded, steep hillside in Mansfield’s South Park, however never revealing the exact spot. I saw evidence of another detectorist, being unfilled digs, while walking to Immigrant Woods, but whoever it was missed my spot by a hundred yards. They’d opted for even/gently sloping ground in the trees, foregoing the effort of exploring locations that would be difficult to navigate.
My hot-spot remained undisturbed.
There are those fellow detectorists who keep dig locations highly secretive, not wanting to disclose productive areas for fear of ‘interlopers’ poaching their potential finds…and that’s OK.
I don’t do that. Not for public parks, anyway, emphasis on public. Folks who detect in public parks can go anywhere they want. They can find productive areas if they’re willing to make the effort, and for some that’s the issue: effort.
Later this morning I’m headed to a wooded spot that’s 400 yards from the closest parking, knowing that some detectorists around here won’t make that sort of journey…too far to walk. I’ll be sixty years old at the end of the month, have rods/screws in my lower back, a titanium knee and rebuilt ankle… and I want to hunt, to find another bucket-list item. Therein lies the key.
You gotta want it.
Granted, I can only hunt for a few hours at a time, the days of sun up-to-sun down physical activity now being in my rear-view mirror; afterwards, ibuprofen and the heating pad become close friends.
To me, the pain is worth it.
Have a great day, and GET OUT THERE!