50-70s throckmorton/ haskell line , case of old dynamite,airplane prop, granite monument to young man drug to death by team of green mules, new mexico old belt bowie knife, spoons, plate. colorado winchester action barrel, partial skeleton, dallas trinity bottoms 2dead guys, 2 guns, 1 dead guy no gun.

Yeah.

now that is one I would let play itself out!

I have lots of stories, but this is the one that comes to mind the most.

Near Ft Chadbourne, not far from Bronte I was on a lease ajoining Kickapoo mountain. A very historical area. From the top of Kickapoo mountain I could make out what I am sure was remnants of the Butterfield Overland Trail. There was a small peak on our lease with a couple big rocks balanced on top. A bigger one in the distance was actually called Nipple Peak on the map to give you an idea what it looked like. It was a great vantage point to sit over a large area of our lease that I could glass. I was trying to pinpoint the location of a Turkey that Spring day.

While I was sitting at the base of that big rock on the peak; I looked down beside me to find a large thin corner tang flint knife. The tip was missing, but the main body with the corner tang was present. The flaking was perfect like a piece of art. My mind thought of a ritual piece or maybe a burial piece left behind from a dead indian once stuffed under the rock. But more likely it was damaged during it's construction and just chunked aside by the hunter that had sat there before me. After all, the spot would have been just as good of a hunting vantage point 2000 years ago as it was that day. Only 2000 years ago he would have been looking for Bison coming through the pass instead of a Turkey.

I pulled out some tp paper I had brought along and tightly wrapped the Corner Tang Knife under several folds of paper to insure it would arrive home with me undamaged. I then put the wrapped piece in my breast shirt pocket and buttoned it closed. It was safe from any harm and there was no way it could get lost. I even remember patting my chest and feeling it there as I thought about the men before me who had hunted from the very spot.

Moments later I did spot my Turkey. I was able to run down off the hill to move ahead of the bird and set up with my call. Just as the Turkey was coming into range I was actually blown by a Jackrabbit of all things. The Jack ran right up to me and made a sound that I swear sounded like the bark of a dog causing the Turkey to putt and run away. But I had a hunch the Turkey was headed for a stock tank in the area. I circled and ran ahead again setting up on the tank dam. I was right. In short time I had my Turkey.

I walked back to camp carrying my bird over my shoulder. I set the bird and call by a tree and leaned my gun there to take a picture. I thought it would be cool to include the corner tang in the picture by setting it next to my box call.

So I unbuttoned my shirt pocket and pulled out the wad of tissue paper and began to unfold it, but it did not feel right. There was nothing there.