Digging for Treasure

(inspired by October’s theme: Magpie)

Andy parked his van in the field gateway, which was deep enough to ensure that passing traffic was unhindered.  Before getting his gear out of the back of the van, he walked to the gate, which looked as though it hadn’t been opened in years.  It was held shut by a chain and a padlock. His eyes wandered over the field. The pasture land rose gently to a wooded crest where the trees wore their first splendid spring coat. Away to the right, he could see a track that led to the farmhouse hidden behind the rise. At the far left of the field, probably 400 metres away, was a copse.  The boundary between the field and the road was a long-established hedge, in which clumps of primroses displayed their promise of warmer days.

‘Virgin territory, ’ he muttered to himself as he turned to the back of the van to unload his gear.

Freedom Seekers, the metal detectorist club of which Andy was a member, had only recently been granted permission to search this field, and he was fortunate to be the first to explore. He took his kit up to the wooded knoll as though to establish a base camp, and took a preliminary sweep of the area between the knoll and the gate.  Returning to the hill, he made himself a drink of tea using hot water from his flask and a Tea Pig Darjeeling tea bag.

Sipping his tea and gazing back down to the road, he observed the grass in the field was quite short as though it had been grazed recently, but now dandelions were dotting the grass with their splendid sunburst. Sporadic traffic, including a post office van and a milk lorry, passed his van at the farm gate.  Apart from the raucous conversation of crows from the wood, these motorised murmurings were the only sound. Closer to where he sat, a magpie alighted on the grass, and Andy remembered the rhyme about magpies his partner Beth had told him earlier in the week.  Apparently, she was given this as a prompt for the writing group she attends.

‘One for sorrow’, he said to himself.  ‘Apt, ’ he thought.  It was sad that his detectorist buddy, Ben, couldn’t join him today as he was on call at the dockyard and had to go in.  A second magpie joined the first.  ‘That’s better, ’ said Andy.  It’s joyful having a day off from grabbing bins off the pavement and lugging them up to the back of the wagon.

Finishing his tea, he took a second sweep parallel to the first and got a signal after fifteen minutes.  Kneeling and unearthing the object, he revealed what might have been part of a farm implement. He would keep it, and he continued with his search.

After another fruitless hour, he returned to the knoll and settled down to eat his lunch.  There would be no surprises.  Beth had packed him up with the same stuff she always did, and that suited them both. There was a cheese savoury sandwich with the added bite of spring onion, an apple and a Snickers bar.

At the prospect of food, the magpies reappeared, and this time, another and then another joined them.  Andy racked his brain trying to remember the rest of the rhyme after sorrow and joy.  It came to him as it rhymed with joy. Three for a girl, four for a boy. 

Again, he had a wry smile to himself.  Maybe this was telling him about Ben’s expected grandchild, or if there was a boy and a girl, it could be twins.  That would give Ben food for thought. At times, Ben was a bit insensitive, going on about his kids and expected grandchild without understanding how hurt Andy felt at times.  Try as they had, Andy and Beth had never managed to have children, and the thought of surrogacy or Artificial Insemination was distasteful or too expensive.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and a slight breeze rustled the new leaves in the canopy above him. Time to get back to scanning.  He decided that he might have better luck if he tried over near where the track started to wind round towards the farmhouse.  Almost instantly, he got a response, nothing exciting, just another ring pull to add to his collection of thousands. He continued sweeping backwards and forwards, and noticed an increase in the traffic in the lane.  Must be getting on for school time.  He glanced at his watch. He promised Beth he would be home for 6, so he would give it another hour, and then head back.

That decision spurred the gods who favour detectorists to reward his efforts.  He had several finds, one after the other.  First, something that looked like a rider's boot spur, then more ring pulls, an old gate hinge and lastly an old battered tin.  After he had carefully worked the earth away from the tin, he sat back and gazed across the field towards the gate.  Five magpies were hopping about on the grass. 

‘Crikey’, he thought, this must be my lucky day, five for silver, come on, let’s see another one’. No sooner had the thought entered his head than all five magpies flew off.

He returned his attention to the tin and shook it; nothing rattled, so it was just a tin, but what kind of tin?  It was dirty, and the lid was bent, but a bit of cleaning revealed the previous contents.

 ‘Well, if this is the best that this field has to offer, I’m not sure I’ll be back.’

He clambered to his feet and made his way back to his temporary camp. He packed the thermos and lunch box in his rucksack.  He had a separate bag for his finds. He added the ring pulls, spur, and other finds and lastly, with a grin, the snuff tin.  The maker's name was in a brown and yellow ribbon across the blue and white lid – Silver Dollar.

VOLUNTEERS (inspired by July's theme: The Volunteers)

Volunteering is defined as the selfless act of dedicating one's time, skills, and energy to support a cause or organisation without any financial gain. It is driven by compassion, empathy, and the desire to contribute positively to society. 
This definition of a volunteer is the one that we would all like to ascribe to, and I suspect it covers the vast majority of those people who volunteer themselves into their local community.  However, the cynic in me prompts me to look a bit more closely.  Do some volunteers have other motives? I can speak with some authority on this.  I spent countless hours over a 4-year period helping to transcribe over eight thousand muster rolls (records of Whitby sea voyages) to enable the information to be made publicly available. Part of my motive for doing so was to try and discover more about my Whitby seafaring ancestors.
This self-serving motive is just one that can prompt individuals to volunteer. Other factors can include. Ego, pride, a need for company, but also more worthy motives like justice and community benefit.  I will look at the less worthy motives.
The ladies who volunteer to display church flowers each Sunday do so at their own expense and in their own time.  Their work is much appreciated by the weekly congregations, but might there be a hint of pride in their contribution as they seek to improve on the previous week’s display?
Every winter Sunday, men turn out in all weathers to manage local youth football teams. Their efforts are appreciated by the mums and dads cheering on their young offspring whilst desperately trying to keep warm.  Their work teaches the importance of team spirit and the necessity of fitness for a meaningful life.  But is there a bit of ego at work amongst those football managers as they seek to achieve some vicarious success that eluded them as a player?  And is there more than a hint of pride at the success that this work can give them?
Do the volunteers working in charity shops, and those sorting stuff for the local scouts’ jumble sale, do so purely because they are compassionate about the cause they support?  Or does it provide them with the opportunity to get first choice at the bargains that cross the table?
The secretary of the local sports and social club can have a busy and sometimes all-consuming involvement with the affairs of the organisation.  Without their involvement, such places would not exist, but is their volunteering altruistic, or could such a role appeal to individuals who seek to be in control?
Often, these clubs have a section that organises coach trips to the theatre, Christmas markets, and even weekends away. A huge responsibility falls on the volunteer who takes on this role, but do they see their reward in the discounts that group booking provides, offering them a free trip for their input?
Being the Captain of a local sports club, such as a golf club, is seen by some members as prestigious.  Those who volunteer for the position commit themselves to a year or so of a huge time commitment and considerable expense.  Their reward is to be honoured by their photograph being displayed for posterity in the clubhouse and the offer of courtesy rounds at other courses.  Again, such volunteers are much appreciated for their input to the club’s success, but there is no doubt that for some, it is very much an ego trip.
There are many local councillors and other politicians who take on the role in the earnest belief that they can serve their community and improve the lives of their constituents. Unhappily, others offer their services to satisfy their ego and maybe line their pockets.
But to put my cynical hat to one side for a moment, I will finish by looking on the positive side. I have friends and acquaintances who really do offer themselves unselfishly.  One visits a hospice to offer company to those in such dire circumstances.  
Others spend time as school governors, work in the Citizens Advice Bureau, help administer an organisation supporting those with learning difficulties, and raise funds for medical equipment.  I could go on.  Without such caring people, the world would be a poorer place.  The world needs volunteers, whatever their motive.