'It's Money!'
Phil Taunton
Friday, February 15, 2008
I want to thank Dustin of rural Emporia for bringing to my attention a story he found while searching the Internet.
The particular site asked the users if they had ever found or lost anything while hunting.
One fellow had a high-octane bird dog; a pointer that really covered the ground. The hunter had crossed through a fence and made a wide circle through a section of grassland. At the end of the field, he saw his dog coming around with something in her mouth.
As the dog retrieved her prize to hand, the hunter realized she was bringing him a transmitter for an electronic training collar. The transmitter was his and it must have dropped from his hunting vest while crossing the fence some distance back. With a chuckle, he looked down at what must be the dumbest dog in the world, but patted and praised her for being such an honest dog and saving him a couple of hundred bucks.
Things we find or lose while hunting? I know some hunters who left their guns on the ground next to a tree or on the trunk of their car when they drove away. Wifeus lost her turkey call and has even tried to lose me a time or two!
My daughters and I found an old Kansas 1941 license tag while out chasing the dogs. It was just what I needed to help me with a prank I played on my father many years ago.
Oh, the tricks I use to play on my dear old Dad. He deserved most of them in retribution for the things he played on me. What a delight it was to be able to put something over on one another!
Pa favored a bargain and really cherished anything he could get free. Many times we would go to the dump when it was legal and bring back just as many “valuable things” as we took. Our garage was full of items Pop thought were antique and would someday rain riches on our family!
He was a hard worker, sometimes working two jobs. He was an outdoors person, loved to hunt and fish, always had a bird dog around, kept a nice garden and, though short of money, was always content with life. I guess growing up in the 1920s, being one of 12 kids and a soldier in World War II would have a bearing on molding this man. As a family, we made do.
When Pop got to retirement age, it just seemed natural a metal detector would be a wonderful gift for him. My sister and I pooled our money and got him the top of the line, latest in technology, White Metal Detector. Our only problem, even after reading the manual, was none of us could really figure out all its functions and how to make the dang thing work.
Dad tinkered with it some, but most of the detecting was left to Wifeus and me. We spent many hours down at the lake doing just that. Of course I had to do all my own finding and digging, but Dad would follow Wifeus everywhere and go to digging at the faintest beep. One particular afternoon there were so many holes in the lot, it looked like an invasion of gophers!
My plan was to bury a mayonnaise jar of coins the kids and I had saved and for Dad to find it — bury it up by the old outhouse, cover it with dirt and put the license tag we had found on top. We buried the jar and allowed time to let the earth settle, but before we could trick Dad into discovering the “hidden treasure” with the detector, he had put a bunch of used windows over the buried coins; no doubt something he acquired from the dump.
Winter passed. When we opened the Cabin the next spring, we found there was some rodent damage. Pop was fit to be tied.
Don’t you just love it when such a dastardly plan comes together? I told Dad I had seen some kind of critter run under the windows by the old outhouse and bet we could catch it if the windows were stored somewhere else. They were gone by nightfall.
I get a chuckle every time I think of this. The next day, Wifeus and kids had Dad in tow, off metal detecting. They went up to the old Johnny and the detector goes off like someone just won a casino’s jackpot. Pop goes to digging and is disappointed because all he found was the license plate. I was there to remind him that the metal detector user’s manual said old outhouses were prime locations to look for coins and sometimes hidden valuables were marked by license plates. Wifeus ran the detector’s dish over the area again, and it chimes out just as loud as it did the first time. With added vigor, Dad starts digging with his long-bladed knife and, upon finding the jar of coins, goes to hollering, “It’s money, it’s money!”
I respect my father too much, rest his soul, to repeat what he said when he looked around and found me on the ground holding my stomach, bent over with laughter. He knew the hook had been set. The ball was now in his court and it was my turn to beware.
Casey (anonymous) says...
I enjoyed this story ..Thanks
February 15, 2008 at 3:53 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
marebear14 (anonymous) says...
Good story, maybe I'll try something like that as my parents love to metal detect.
February 15, 2008 at 7:13 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )