piratediver
Sr. Member
How about this, positive news about metal detectorists!
Clean sweep for the metal detectives
Despite the suspicions of professionals, the amateurs who dig up Britain's countryside are leading archaeologists to untold riches, says William Langley.
By William Langley
Published: 6:40PM BST 26 Sep 2009
Comments 11 | Comment on this article
In the long history of these islands, one thing has never changed: the British are a nation of losers. Other countries may be prone to forgetfulness, but we can misplace entire towns, waterways, palaces and armies, while grinning sheepishly and telling ourselves that they'll probably turn up one day.
They do, too, but only because Britain also has the world's most fanatical treasure hunters, who, immune to the ill-concealed scoffing of professional archaeologists, now account for almost all the worthwhile artefacts found around the country. Last week's disclosure that Terry Herbert, a 55-year-old, unemployed metal-detecting enthusiast from Staffordshire, had discovered a priceless trove of Anglo-Saxon gold and jewellery put the treasure hunters in the national spotlight. But most of them, frankly, would prefer to be quietly tramping the fields.
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Metal detector thieves are plundering our history, English Heritage warns"Hardly any of these characters are in it for money or glory," says Julian Evan-Hart, one of Britain's foremost treasure hunters and author of The Beginner's Guide to Metal Detecting. "There's something in their psyches, a sort of acquisitive impulse that make them go out and look for things. When you talk to them you'll find a lot of them collected eggs or stamps when they were kids. They've never quite lost the urge. It isn't about getting rich."
Mr Herbert, nevertheless, stands to make millions from the booty he uncovered on a farm near Walsall. The find has been described as the most important of its kind ever made, and one that will unlock many of the secrets of Anglo-Saxon life. "This will make us rethink the Dark Ages," says Roger Bland, head of the British Museum's treasure department. "It really is that big."
Possibly less easily explained is how the treasure came to be left in a field, some way from any known settlement. Historians suggest it may have been buried for safekeeping by owners who were then driven away from the area, or simply forgot about it.
If so, it's not so unusual a story. For thousands of years, Britons have been failing to take proper care of their possessions, littering the country with everything from abandoned Bronze Age forts to Elizabethan dinner sets, and creating what has become a treasure hunter's paradise. As Bill Wyman, the former Rolling Stones guitarist and self-confessed "obsessive" treasure hunter, says in his book Treasure Islands: "Since humans first lived on these shores, literally millions of things have been buried, thrown away or simply lost."
Yet reclaiming them isn't simply a matter of digging them up. Under the provisions of the 1996 Treasure Act, any discovery of precious metals more than 300 years old must be reported to a coroner. An inquest is then held to establish the legitimacy of the find, and if it is declared to be treasure trove, it must be offered for sale to a museum. The price is fixed by an independent board of valuers, and the proceeds are split 50-50 between the finder and the owner of the land.
While historians are swooning over the beauty and abundance of the Staffordshire find, Terry, with characteristic treasure hunter's insouciance, says he will be glad to see the back of the stuff. "I was gobsmacked when I found it, and it's been nothing but stress since," he says. Adding to his unhappiness are his currently strained relations with farmer (and, more importantly, landowner) Fred Johnson, who has reportedly accused him of being too interested in the multi-million-pound windfall heading the pair's way.
This, to a self-respecting treasure hunter, is a hurtful allegation. The majority of the nation's 30,000 regular "metal detectives" view their activities as recreational and educational rather than commercial. "When I'm out detecting, I just enjoy the peace and quiet of being out in the fields," says Wyman, 72, who took up the hobby when he bought a manor house in Suffolk. "I've found hundreds of gold coins going back to Roman Britain as well as blades from 3,000 years ago, but I'm not interested in their monetary value. It's the history that's important to me."
Even those hunters without Wyman's rock and roll income to fall back on tend to agree. Duncan Pangborn, who found a rare Roman figurine in a field in Cambridgeshire two years ago, says: "It's about the thrill of finding something that hasn't been seen, in this case, for 1,700 or 1,800 years. It's about being the first person to handle it since the Roman owner."
Yet there's one thing the treasure hunters can't put a price on: you could call it respect. Trained archaeologists may find it hard to ignore the riches being unearthed, but many have misgivings about the randomness, lack of expertise and potential damage to valuable sites that the weekend treasure hunters represent.
The National Council for Metal Detecting (NCMD) has a lengthy code of conduct which advises on everything from replacing divots to avoiding unexploded bombs, but the fact remains that anyone in Britain can buy a metal detector, and a tempting abundance of often sensitive sites beckons. As a result there have been cases of what critics term "archaeological vandalism".
The NCMD admits that treasure hunters were treated with suspicion when detectors became widely available in the 1970s, but says relations have since improved. And anyway, the practice of digging up the countryside is steeped in the amateur tradition. The Society of Antiquities, founded in 1717, was essentially an organisation of gentleman treasure hunters, looking for clues to the nation's history. In this sense, say the pastime's defenders, treasure hunting was there before archaeology, and all that has happened since is that technology has made it easier.
And far more productive. The Staffordshire find may be spectacular, but it is far from the first to make the big time. In 1992, a Suffolk farmer, Eric Lawes, set off with a metal detector to look for a friend's hammer. Instead he found the largest trove of Roman coins ever located in Britain. Last year, according to the British Museum's annual report, 749 finds of historic gold and silver were made, almost all of them by amateurs.
"There's treasure everywhere out there," says Mr Evan-Hart, "the challenge is to find it." And, this being Britain, not to lose it again.
Pirate Diver
Clean sweep for the metal detectives
Despite the suspicions of professionals, the amateurs who dig up Britain's countryside are leading archaeologists to untold riches, says William Langley.
By William Langley
Published: 6:40PM BST 26 Sep 2009
Comments 11 | Comment on this article
In the long history of these islands, one thing has never changed: the British are a nation of losers. Other countries may be prone to forgetfulness, but we can misplace entire towns, waterways, palaces and armies, while grinning sheepishly and telling ourselves that they'll probably turn up one day.
They do, too, but only because Britain also has the world's most fanatical treasure hunters, who, immune to the ill-concealed scoffing of professional archaeologists, now account for almost all the worthwhile artefacts found around the country. Last week's disclosure that Terry Herbert, a 55-year-old, unemployed metal-detecting enthusiast from Staffordshire, had discovered a priceless trove of Anglo-Saxon gold and jewellery put the treasure hunters in the national spotlight. But most of them, frankly, would prefer to be quietly tramping the fields.
Related Articles
Treasurer hunters battle over share of £500,000 hoard
Identity of 'jigsaw' body parts murder victim solved
Victim named in body parts murder
Coming up: what?s on in the world of travel
Metal detector thieves are plundering our history, English Heritage warns"Hardly any of these characters are in it for money or glory," says Julian Evan-Hart, one of Britain's foremost treasure hunters and author of The Beginner's Guide to Metal Detecting. "There's something in their psyches, a sort of acquisitive impulse that make them go out and look for things. When you talk to them you'll find a lot of them collected eggs or stamps when they were kids. They've never quite lost the urge. It isn't about getting rich."
Mr Herbert, nevertheless, stands to make millions from the booty he uncovered on a farm near Walsall. The find has been described as the most important of its kind ever made, and one that will unlock many of the secrets of Anglo-Saxon life. "This will make us rethink the Dark Ages," says Roger Bland, head of the British Museum's treasure department. "It really is that big."
Possibly less easily explained is how the treasure came to be left in a field, some way from any known settlement. Historians suggest it may have been buried for safekeeping by owners who were then driven away from the area, or simply forgot about it.
If so, it's not so unusual a story. For thousands of years, Britons have been failing to take proper care of their possessions, littering the country with everything from abandoned Bronze Age forts to Elizabethan dinner sets, and creating what has become a treasure hunter's paradise. As Bill Wyman, the former Rolling Stones guitarist and self-confessed "obsessive" treasure hunter, says in his book Treasure Islands: "Since humans first lived on these shores, literally millions of things have been buried, thrown away or simply lost."
Yet reclaiming them isn't simply a matter of digging them up. Under the provisions of the 1996 Treasure Act, any discovery of precious metals more than 300 years old must be reported to a coroner. An inquest is then held to establish the legitimacy of the find, and if it is declared to be treasure trove, it must be offered for sale to a museum. The price is fixed by an independent board of valuers, and the proceeds are split 50-50 between the finder and the owner of the land.
While historians are swooning over the beauty and abundance of the Staffordshire find, Terry, with characteristic treasure hunter's insouciance, says he will be glad to see the back of the stuff. "I was gobsmacked when I found it, and it's been nothing but stress since," he says. Adding to his unhappiness are his currently strained relations with farmer (and, more importantly, landowner) Fred Johnson, who has reportedly accused him of being too interested in the multi-million-pound windfall heading the pair's way.
This, to a self-respecting treasure hunter, is a hurtful allegation. The majority of the nation's 30,000 regular "metal detectives" view their activities as recreational and educational rather than commercial. "When I'm out detecting, I just enjoy the peace and quiet of being out in the fields," says Wyman, 72, who took up the hobby when he bought a manor house in Suffolk. "I've found hundreds of gold coins going back to Roman Britain as well as blades from 3,000 years ago, but I'm not interested in their monetary value. It's the history that's important to me."
Even those hunters without Wyman's rock and roll income to fall back on tend to agree. Duncan Pangborn, who found a rare Roman figurine in a field in Cambridgeshire two years ago, says: "It's about the thrill of finding something that hasn't been seen, in this case, for 1,700 or 1,800 years. It's about being the first person to handle it since the Roman owner."
Yet there's one thing the treasure hunters can't put a price on: you could call it respect. Trained archaeologists may find it hard to ignore the riches being unearthed, but many have misgivings about the randomness, lack of expertise and potential damage to valuable sites that the weekend treasure hunters represent.
The National Council for Metal Detecting (NCMD) has a lengthy code of conduct which advises on everything from replacing divots to avoiding unexploded bombs, but the fact remains that anyone in Britain can buy a metal detector, and a tempting abundance of often sensitive sites beckons. As a result there have been cases of what critics term "archaeological vandalism".
The NCMD admits that treasure hunters were treated with suspicion when detectors became widely available in the 1970s, but says relations have since improved. And anyway, the practice of digging up the countryside is steeped in the amateur tradition. The Society of Antiquities, founded in 1717, was essentially an organisation of gentleman treasure hunters, looking for clues to the nation's history. In this sense, say the pastime's defenders, treasure hunting was there before archaeology, and all that has happened since is that technology has made it easier.
And far more productive. The Staffordshire find may be spectacular, but it is far from the first to make the big time. In 1992, a Suffolk farmer, Eric Lawes, set off with a metal detector to look for a friend's hammer. Instead he found the largest trove of Roman coins ever located in Britain. Last year, according to the British Museum's annual report, 749 finds of historic gold and silver were made, almost all of them by amateurs.
"There's treasure everywhere out there," says Mr Evan-Hart, "the challenge is to find it." And, this being Britain, not to lose it again.
Pirate Diver
