[attachment 39136 nutin.gif]I've been all but down for the last week due to problems with my left knee and the way I've drug that leg around reminded me of a detecting trip a few years ago. I put a story about it on a small story forum a couple of years ago but don't think I've posted it here. It definitely wasn't funny at the time but as Jbird said, some of the things we remember as funny now is only funny because it didn't end in disaster. Here's the story:
A few years ago a good friend, I'll call him Tommy, and I were detecting just west of Prairie Mount, an old townsite between Okolona and Pontotoc that saw a lot of Civil War activity. Prairie Mount is long gone, the only thing there now is a couple of old cemeteries, scattered woods and a pasture full of cows, but in February of 1864 a running battle between General Nathan Bedford Forrest's Confederate troops and General William Sooy Smith's Union troops went through Praire Mount, and there was a heated engagement at Ivy's Farm just west of the old townsite that took the life of Brigadier General Jeffery Forrest, Nathan's brother. We both found a few period bullets, I got a cylinder from an 1858 Remington revolver and Tommy got a US rossette but the relics were scattered and finds were few and far between. The area we were hunting was big and eventually we became widely separated, a situation I would soon regret.
Tommy was in a small scope of woods on the side of a hill maybe 300 yards to the east of me and I was walking west toward a high hill when I came to a dry creekbed that was lined on both sides by small trees, brush and bushes. There was a cattle path that went down into and across the creek and in one of the many hoofprints there was a dropped .58 minie that had undoubtedly been kicked up by one of the cows. I saw it before I swung over it, picked it up and started hunting to the south down the east side of the creek. A couple of hundred yards later and no signals I decided to cross the creek. It wasn't deep, only two feet or so and full of leaves but the undergrowth made it hard to get across. I was too lazy to walk back to the cattle crossing so I picked a spot and pushed through the bushes. I stepped off the low bank into the creek with my right foot and it never hit bottom. I had stepped into a sink hole or something and was stuck, my left leg somehow wound up sticking out in front of me and my right leg was jammed into the hole all the way up to my as.., uh, posterior.
I wiggled around every way I could and tried my darndest to get out but no luck. I was stuck tighter than a big cork in a little jug. Not only was I stuck but my left leg, the one sticking out in front of me, was beginning to hurt real bad and the more I struggled the more it hurt. Swallowing a little pride I started yelling for Tommy. Actually, to say I was yelling is somewhat of an understatement. Tommy was at least two hundred yards east of me, wearing headphones and I was putting all the energy I could muster into every yell. He didn't respond but after a couple of minutes one of the cows stuck her head through the bushes to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't hang around long though, guess the language was a little rougher than she could handle. I kept yelling and trying to get out for what seemed like hours, but probably was only a few minutes, before Tommy heard me. Another problem, he could hear me but couldn't find me. He couldn't see into the creek bed because of the bushes, I couldn't see behind me to the east since I was jammed in facing west and he passed behind me 3 or 4 times before he started narrowing it down.
Eventually he did locate me and after a five minute laughing fit he wiped the tears from his eyes and drug me out. I was sprung up all over, my left leg seemed to have a mind of it's own and looked to me like it was sticking off to the side at a rather odd angle. No worry, only two miles to the truck. We made it in about 3 hours with me limping along b!tching every step and him laughing so hard he could hardly see. I never liked that guy anyway, and there warn't nothing funny about becoming a cripple I could tell. I tried to get him close enough to waylay him with my detector but I was using it as walking stick and woulda fell if I had took a swipe at him anyway, so I guess it's best he kept his distance.
We finally made it to the truck, and home, but my left leg hamstring was either torn or stretched and I walked kinda sideways for a week or so. Putting on my pants and shoes definitely wasn't much fun. Don't think I went detecting with Tommy again after that, never could figger out why I ever liked that guy anyway
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<center><img src="http://jb-ms.com/Finds/prairiemt.jpg"></center>
A few years ago a good friend, I'll call him Tommy, and I were detecting just west of Prairie Mount, an old townsite between Okolona and Pontotoc that saw a lot of Civil War activity. Prairie Mount is long gone, the only thing there now is a couple of old cemeteries, scattered woods and a pasture full of cows, but in February of 1864 a running battle between General Nathan Bedford Forrest's Confederate troops and General William Sooy Smith's Union troops went through Praire Mount, and there was a heated engagement at Ivy's Farm just west of the old townsite that took the life of Brigadier General Jeffery Forrest, Nathan's brother. We both found a few period bullets, I got a cylinder from an 1858 Remington revolver and Tommy got a US rossette but the relics were scattered and finds were few and far between. The area we were hunting was big and eventually we became widely separated, a situation I would soon regret.
Tommy was in a small scope of woods on the side of a hill maybe 300 yards to the east of me and I was walking west toward a high hill when I came to a dry creekbed that was lined on both sides by small trees, brush and bushes. There was a cattle path that went down into and across the creek and in one of the many hoofprints there was a dropped .58 minie that had undoubtedly been kicked up by one of the cows. I saw it before I swung over it, picked it up and started hunting to the south down the east side of the creek. A couple of hundred yards later and no signals I decided to cross the creek. It wasn't deep, only two feet or so and full of leaves but the undergrowth made it hard to get across. I was too lazy to walk back to the cattle crossing so I picked a spot and pushed through the bushes. I stepped off the low bank into the creek with my right foot and it never hit bottom. I had stepped into a sink hole or something and was stuck, my left leg somehow wound up sticking out in front of me and my right leg was jammed into the hole all the way up to my as.., uh, posterior.
I wiggled around every way I could and tried my darndest to get out but no luck. I was stuck tighter than a big cork in a little jug. Not only was I stuck but my left leg, the one sticking out in front of me, was beginning to hurt real bad and the more I struggled the more it hurt. Swallowing a little pride I started yelling for Tommy. Actually, to say I was yelling is somewhat of an understatement. Tommy was at least two hundred yards east of me, wearing headphones and I was putting all the energy I could muster into every yell. He didn't respond but after a couple of minutes one of the cows stuck her head through the bushes to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't hang around long though, guess the language was a little rougher than she could handle. I kept yelling and trying to get out for what seemed like hours, but probably was only a few minutes, before Tommy heard me. Another problem, he could hear me but couldn't find me. He couldn't see into the creek bed because of the bushes, I couldn't see behind me to the east since I was jammed in facing west and he passed behind me 3 or 4 times before he started narrowing it down.
Eventually he did locate me and after a five minute laughing fit he wiped the tears from his eyes and drug me out. I was sprung up all over, my left leg seemed to have a mind of it's own and looked to me like it was sticking off to the side at a rather odd angle. No worry, only two miles to the truck. We made it in about 3 hours with me limping along b!tching every step and him laughing so hard he could hardly see. I never liked that guy anyway, and there warn't nothing funny about becoming a cripple I could tell. I tried to get him close enough to waylay him with my detector but I was using it as walking stick and woulda fell if I had took a swipe at him anyway, so I guess it's best he kept his distance.
We finally made it to the truck, and home, but my left leg hamstring was either torn or stretched and I walked kinda sideways for a week or so. Putting on my pants and shoes definitely wasn't much fun. Don't think I went detecting with Tommy again after that, never could figger out why I ever liked that guy anyway
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I did that on a beaver house once and also limped for quite a while. Got out myself though and beat up my rifle in the process!
He deserved being laughed at, which he was
