November 26th 2006

I had a feller e-mail me about the possibility of him tagging along on a dig. I get this type of e-mails from time to time, but what made this time a little different was the fact that this particular feller had some really good sounding permissions ready to go. We met up with Steve Sanders, the feller, a couple weeks ago, and went to check out a place where he had been finding some real early American coins and also some early Spanish silver Reales with his detector.

That place got a good going over with the probes, but proved to be a very large lot and no pits were found. A few days ago, Steve called and asked me if I was familiar with a certain house not far from me. I was indeed familiar, as the house he was talking about is a super early one, and dates to 1800 on the Auditors web site. I had been eyeballing this place for a long time. He happened to work with the lady who lived there, and managed to get us permission to locate and dig the privies.

We met at the house at 9 am and walked into the back yard to have a look. The yard was huge. We stabbed and jabbed, discussed general rules of outhouse placement, looked for depressions, tested for prevailing winds, and wandered aimlessly around probing endlessly in the butter soft ground. I could tell the Pirate was ready to split, but he was making a solid effort anyway, even in the face of his most distasted torture, a large country lot of an ancient house.

Summoning all of my experience and skill, and mixing it in equal parts with some Crowlian communication with the long since deceased original owners of the house, my probe guiding my steps and steering my fortune, I found myself behind a small shed, eyes rolled back, babbling in a strange tongue, where my next stab into the ground was greeted with snapping glass along the entire length of my probe. Victorious and smug, I hollered the less universally tuned diggers over to my location.

Once I was being praised as the golden probe master, I had no choice but to enter into a humble state of being, insisting it was luck, downplaying my supernatural abilities, just so I could remain uninterrupted in my place of positive privy digging mojo.

Mike probed up and marked the four stone walls and we pitched plastic. There was no sod, only a packed and pre-trodden dirt, whose job it had been until now to stow away and somewhat conceal the garbage cans.

Before we were a foot deep we had five blown bottles, intact, tossed onto a corner of the tarp. They were just unembossed polishes and utility bottles, but when the sign is good, I'm all for making it seam like destiny.

Below, Steve and Mike a'diggin.

Below, Mike in the pit.

The homeowners showed up about this time and came over to see what kind of hole we had going. Their 11 year old son was amazed at the now 4 foot deep hole we were digging. We had a few things to show them including a transfer decorated molded ironstone chamber pot lid.

We were about 5 feet deep when we had a change of color, and seeds and shards started popping out. Another foot later and we were firmly in the trash layer and glass was tinkling down the mound of dirt. Steve is a worker and has no fear of getting dirty. He was in the pit chucking dirt into the bucket like an old pro. A few more whole bottles started popping out, like a cone ink, more polishes and foods and utilities, and then an amber Druggist from Cincinnati. I was in the pit and found a Will Yeager Westside Pharmacy bottle, and then, some deeper aqua caught my eye and I fluffed up a broken S.O. Richardsons Bitters. Down we went, into the unknown depths.

Mike's turn had him digging on the unproductive side of the pit where he found the bottom at about 7 feet. My next turn and I finished off about half of the pit, leaving the rest for Steve to scratch around in. The age never really materialized beyond about 1880 or so, and whole bottles were scarce. One of the last intact bottles to pop out was a sample size Dr. Kings new discovery.

Below, da pile.

We finished up and fillderin. We packed it tight as it was a fluffy fill, and wound up about 3 inches shy of level. The owners said it was nothing to worry about, but I figure I'll take a few buckets over later this week to bring it up to grade, and toss out some seed and straw. Steve told me after the dig he would help out too. That way if they go to take out their garbage in the rain they wont have to put on rubber boots to avoid any standing water in the recess.

Below, Steve reflects some light into the pit.

Below, the mostly intact stuff.

Below, the S.O. Richardson's bitters frag.

Mike picked first and grabbed up the amber pharmacy. The owner picked next and chose both of the remaining embossed bottles, the Dr. Kings and the Harrison bottle. There were no other embossed bottles so Mike and I just told Steve and the owner they could split up the other 20 or so un-embossed bottles. It wasn't a loaded pit but it was glassy and easy digging and fun.

Steve did a great job and is a pleasure to hang out with. He laughs at the stupid stuff I say so his funny bone is hooked up and he has the right mindset for treasure hunting, being concerned about sharing and making a good show of the restorations to the properties. Steve has been detecting and is a good researcher and permission getter, and has more old detecting permissions for us to visit for possible privy digs.

The owners invited us back to probe for more pits. I never did wind up probing beside the pit we dug, so I will do that when I take over some extra fill dirt.

Till again...