Find 1: Pewter school bell<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/Screenshot-2025-03-28-at-21.03.52-850x326.png\")
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Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/WILT-961030_6888a5fc6da10-850x478.jpg\")
<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/OXON-DF17F8_665254e939160-850x478.jpg\")
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Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/finds.org.uk\/images\/sophaw123\/medium\/WILT4DB178.jpg\")
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/bronzeage-dagger-1200x463.png\")
<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/img_0136.jpg\")
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\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/kuna1.png\")
<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Screenshot-2025-04-19-at-21.33.24.png\")
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Screenshot-2025-04-19-at-21.32.02.png\")
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/image2.png\")
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<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n![\"\"\/](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/12\/image1-rotated.jpeg\")
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n![\"\"\/](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/62467028_10157095013522570_8775141956989747200_n-640x478.jpg\")
<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/vrharbor.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/WILT309287.jpeg\")
<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\n
Find 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\n
Find 7: Laundry Day, 1936 <\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 10: Nearly 3 grams, nearly 4 millennia<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 11: A scattering of Shot<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 12:\u00a0No Longer Child’s Play<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise Badge<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 15: Hunter’s Watch: Found!<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Find 16: The Great Recoinage of William III<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 17: The Thimble in my Palm<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 18: The Watchful Eye<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\nFind 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 19: A Florin’s a Florin!<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 20: A Chip off the Ol’ Flint<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 21: A Tiny Toggle<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 22: The Master’s Mark<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Find 23: Just a Jetton<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 24: The City in the Country<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
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William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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Find 25: The Emerald in the Earth<\/a><\/h4>\nFind 26: The Clasp Maketh the Garb<\/a><\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\nMy permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nRetrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\nThis was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\nI slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\nThe Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nHolding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\nThese fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\nThe quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n
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Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n\u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\nThe signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\nThis copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\nThis find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\nIt reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\nHere’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n
Find 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\n\nA clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nThe signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\nI was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\nMy curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\nBut this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\nRights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum used under CC License<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThis object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\nKey Details:<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n\u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\nFind 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n
It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n
And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n
The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n
After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n
These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\nA link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n[[xxxx]]<\/p>\n
Find 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n8th September 2025. <\/p>\n
A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n
What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n
The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n
This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n
It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n\n
\n- Image owner: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, used under the Creative Commons license.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/p>\n
[13365]]<\/p>\n
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Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThis discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n
There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n
\n- Period:<\/strong>\u00a0Tudor, specifically the reign of\u00a0Henry VIII (AD 1509\u20131547)<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Type:<\/strong>\u00a0A silver penny, struck at the\u00a0Canterbury Mint<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Dimensions:<\/strong>\u00a0It weighs a mere\u00a00.81g<\/strong>\u00a0with a diameter of\u00a018.8mm<\/strong>.<\/li>\n
- Condition:<\/strong>\u00a0The coin is incomplete and extremely worn. The museum notes that its state reflects an exceptionally long and active life in circulation.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n
This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n
To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n
There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n
It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nHow did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n
This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\nFor me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nThe thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n
The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n
The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n
Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n
This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nRecently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n
Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n
This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n
I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n
This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nA soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities.
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n
Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nIt was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n
There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n
Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\nIt commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n
It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n
And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n
The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\nKey Details:<\/p>\n
* Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n
* Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n
* Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n
* Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\nFind 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n\nAfter what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n
A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n
I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n<\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\nJune 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n
My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\nBut what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n
This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n(Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n
Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n
Key Details:<\/p>\n
Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n
Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n
Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n
Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\n<\/h4>\n\u00a0<\/h4>\n\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
\n<\/h4>\n\nFind 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Find 10: Nearly 3 grams, Nearly 4 Millennia Later<\/a><\/h2>\n
Last modified on 2026-01-23 09:11:52 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n The still air over the Wiltshire plains was pleasant for late February, yet the gusts of wind from the southwest still held that sharp, late-winter bite. With the sun a welcome warmth on my back, I searched across the rolling hills in a village just south of Salisbury. The flint-strewn ground looked stark and cropped short by nervous sheep who tend to give me a wide berth, especially during lambing season.<\/span><\/p>\n My permission stands on one of the highest points in the area, certainly not as high as Pepperbox Hill, but from this one location I can see the the undulating, hazy edges of the New Forest in one direction and the distant, reassuring spire of Salisbury Cathedral in the other. I started thinking about that view 600 years earlier before the cathedral’s spire dominated the landscape and I almost missed the clear, bell-like tone from the detector. It was a high-pitched, clean signal that immediately felt different\u2014an absolute purity among the usual grunts and chatter. I backed up and ran the coil over the spot again, confirming the precise location.<\/span><\/p>\n The Moment of Discovery<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Retrieving a tiny target amongst this dense flint and rock is often a frustrating task, but the distinct signal brought a calm, careful focus. On such ground, a shovel is useless; a stout digging tool and patience are the best friends one can have. What eventually emerged from the cold, dark earth gave me pause: a small, rectangular fragment of worked gold. It possessed that unmistakable, deep lustre\u2014the shade of yellow only antiquity imparts.<\/span><\/p>\n This was clearly not a natural nugget, but something crafted by human hands, its original purpose veiled by the centuries. It was truncated at both ends, the breaks looking like deliberate, ancient cuts, and I judged it to weigh barely three grams. This small weight belies its immense historical significance. (A clear, focused photograph of the object is essential here, capturing its scale and colour.)<\/span><\/p>\n I slipped off my gloves, the cold momentarily forgotten, to properly appreciate the piece. Turning it carefully in my palm, I examined its artistry. It was crafted with five delicate, parallel ribs, and along the sides of each rib runs a beautifully incised zig-zag pattern. The reverse, in quiet contrast, remained plain and smooth. This level of miniature craftsmanship, scaled down to such a small fragment, speaks volumes about the value\u2014both material and cultural\u2014that was placed upon it.<\/span><\/p>\n The Historical Footprint and Personal Meaning<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Holding this tiny piece of gold, feeling its surprising weight, my mind immediately travelled back to the Bronze Age (roughly 2,400\u2013800 BC). The specific style of decoration strongly resonated with images I\u2019ve seen in archaeological reports. A consultation with the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS) database quickly affirmed this initial instinct, revealing comparable finds of ribbed gold strips identified as Bronze Age ribbons.<\/span><\/p>\n These fragments are often interpreted by archaeologists as pieces of fine hair ornaments or elaborate clothing decorations. Yet, the truncated ends are particularly compelling. In the Bronze Age, gold was often cut to precise weights for exchange, sometimes called “ring money” or “segmental currency.” I pictured the original owner, some four millennia gone, carefully snipping this segment from a larger piece\u2014perhaps a bracelet or torc\u2014to purchase a beast or some precious commodity. How gutted they must have been to lose this valuable commodity, perhaps sinking into the mud, its purpose unfulfilled.<\/span><\/p>\n The quiet loss of that ancient person stands in stark contrast to the profound elation I felt in that moment, a feeling that cemented my own journey as a true detectorist. The unspoken tradition among detectorists suggests a celebratory ‘gold dance,’ yet the overwhelming feeling here, in the quiet solitude of the field, was one of profound respect and stewardship. I allowed myself a small, discreet jig once I was safely off the exposed side of the hill, satisfying the superstition. Tradition noted, I headed back to the farmhouse to present my find to the astonished landowner, ensuring the correct reporting procedure was initiated immediately. This small, magnificent object is a tangible, direct link to an individual from three millennia ago. It is a humbling honour to be the person who brought their story back into the light.<\/span><\/p>\n Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-07 08:38:49 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n \u00a0It was a blustery autumn day today, with the wind carrying a chill straight off the Wiltshire plains. The sky was high and scattered with racing clouds, giving a sense of restless energy to the landscape. I was working a field not far from a known Roman trackway, a place where, even now, the ghosts of the past feel close at hand.<\/span><\/p>\n The signal was strong but a bit jumpy, and when the object came out, the reality was stark: a Roman nummus, broken cleanly in two. It\u2019s a sad state for an ancient piece of currency, but I find that even broken objects speak volumes. They show the wear, the use, and perhaps the deliberate abandonment of a person whose life was fractured by the same pressures that broke the coin.<\/span><\/p>\n This copper alloy nummus, tentatively identified, is a compelling link to the reign of the usurper Magnentius, placing it squarely in the tumultuous period of AD 350-353. Magnentius seized control of the Western Roman Empire by assassinating the legitimate Emperor Constans, plunging the entire state into a bitter civil war. This tiny, worn coin, likely struck far away in one of the major mints of Roman Gaul, perhaps\u00a0Lyons or Arles, somehow made its way across the Channel to Wiltshire.<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s an important moment to reflect on the difference between the physical find and its historical meaning. The object itself is worn and broken, but research, either by myself or the experts at the museum, fills in the details physically worn away by time. It is this detective work that confirmed the coin\u2019s type and revealed the truly profound irony of its inscription. Though now worn almost smooth, the original type is believed to be FELICITAS REI PUBLICAE, which translates to \u201cThe Happiness of the Republic.\u201d Imagine holding this coin during the civil war it funded\u2014a small, brazen lie promising stability amidst brutal conflict.<\/span><\/p>\n This find also connects beautifully to the landscape’s story, following on from my recent Iron Age Stater discovery. We\u2019ve moved from native independence to the slow, chaotic collapse of the empire that eventually supplanted it.<\/span><\/p>\n It reminds me that every worn detail on this broken coin tells a story, not just of the person who once held it, but of an entire empire fractured by ambition. The ground always has a story to tell, and sometimes, that story is a poignant, broken promise. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n Rights Holder: Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum<\/span><\/p>\n Here’s one in better condition found in Oxfordshire:<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:04:53 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n A clear, bright day with a nip in the air, the kind of weather that makes you want to stride out across the Wiltshire plains just to keep warm. I was detecting a piece of ground in East Grimstead, not far from the quiet meander of the River Dun\u2014a landscape as quiet and contemplative as the distant Holy Trinity Church I could just make out around the river\u2019s bend. I found it perfect for pondering the deeper layers of local history.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n The signal was strong and solid\u2014a good lump of metal\u2014and what emerged was a semi-circular piece of lead alloy several centimetres thick. No wonder it rang out so strongly in my headphones. It was smooth, whitish grey, and decidedly enigmatic at first glance.<\/span><\/p>\n I was immediately taken with it, imagining it to be a small, charming find. Freed from the dirt I turned it over and over in my hands imagining that it must be a little pig figurine, perhaps a hand-cast toy for a child in the village. The white patina of the old lead gave it a definite air of antiquity. I thought about how lead was used as ubiquitously in the past as aluminium is today.<\/span><\/p>\n My curiosity was piqued, and my enthusiasm was matched by the Finds Liaison Officer. She studied its crudely cast shape and, looking at the same details, speculated that it was a bear, suggesting its age was much older than I thought. Perhaps a personal charm or amulet? For a wonderful moment, the object had a mystical history\u2014a little, hand-carved talisman lost on the riverbank.<\/span><\/p>\n But this find provides a perfect lesson in the importance of expert analysis. What began as a fanciful pig, then became an enigmatic bear, was, in the end, a lead back-weight from a hickory wooden golf club, likely dating anywhere from 1850 to 1970. The specific shape\u2014flat, semi-circular with small protrusions\u2014is characteristic of weights inserted into the head of a golf club to perfect its balance and swing.<\/span><\/p>\n This object might have sat in my collection forever mislabeled if I hadn\u2019t turned it over to the experts at the museum. The truth turned out to be far more interesting than a child\u2019s toy, offering a slice of sporting and local history I would never have imagined on my own. It is a profound piece of humility for any detectorist, confirming that the ground always has a story to tell, but we sometimes need a little expert guidance to read it correctly. Every find tells a story.<\/span><\/p>\n Key Details:<\/span><\/p>\n \u2022 Unique ID: WILT-4DB178<\/span><\/p>\n \u2022 Object Type: Post-Medieval to Modern Lead Alloy Golf Club Weight<\/span><\/p>\n \u2022 Historical Context: Likely a back-weight used to balance the head of a hickory-shafted wooden golf club (c. 1850-1970). The object’s true identity was only confirmed after specialist analysis, following initial misidentification as a lead animal figure. Found in East Grimstead near the River Dun.<\/span><\/p>\n \u2022 Dimensions: Length: 46.6 mm; Weight: 58.97 g<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/p>\n Last modified on 2026-04-05 18:48:30 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n The most profound moments in this hobby often aren\u2019t about glinting gold or silver, but about the quiet conversation we have with the past. The spring light in February can be deceptive\u2014warm on the face, cold on the back, but hinting at the promise of warmer days. In a hilly pasture, with a long view over the Wiltshire countryside, the spire of Salisbury Cathedral a delicate needle on the horizon, one can’t help but feel the immense weight of time. I am constantly reminded of just how long Wiltshire has been populated.<\/p>\n It was on one such uncharacteristically warm afternoon that I was walking, the steady, rhythmic sweep of the detector a calming metronome to my thoughts. Keeping it ‘low and slow’ as the boffins of metal detecting always advise. Patience is a valuable tool, and though there weren’t many finds so far, the pleasant weather and the distance from the highway and even the farmhouse had put me in a mood that didn’t mind how far apart the targets were.<\/p>\n And then came a signal that felt different\u2014high and clear and resonant, a bell like tone that promised something more substantial than a nail or aluminium. Eagerly I began to clear the soil, which chose to slow me down by being full of flint and rocks that needed freeing by hand. And I was glad for the reminder to take care when I exposed the distinctive patina of long buried copper alloy. A shade of green like nothing else. I knew I had found something Old. I admit I got a bit excited, not that I had any idea what I’d dug up at this point, but with the simple thrill of discovery, of being the first person in millennia to see this object.<\/p>\n The find, as it turned out, was a short dagger blade, split into two pieces. One fragment was a beautiful section of the blade, featuring two delicate, raised ribs, their form still visible after all these years. The other was a smaller section of the tang, the part that would have been set into a wooden or bone handle. It was an almost complete puzzle, right there in the soil, minus only the very tip of the dagger. My mind whirred at that instant, just thinking about the absolute gulf of time between the hands that buried it and mine as I photographed it and then carefully placed it in a small plastic case in my backpack. I sent the photo to the FLO (Finds Liaison Officer) at Salisbury Museum, and they were immediately interested. I was able to turn it in to them less than a week later. Then came the long wait to hear what they thought of it. I gave the location a wide berth to avoid further disturbing the site. My thought was that I might have discovered some grave goods and that more experienced eyes might need to examine the location as I found it.<\/p>\n After examination by the wonderful teams at Salisbury Museum, Wiltshire County, and finally the British Museum, the true story of the dagger began to unfold. It was identified as a Late Bronze Age piece, dating to somewhere between 1150-800 BC. But what made it truly special was its condition. The experts confirmed that the blade was not broken by a plough or the passage of time, but that the bending and transverse break were clear evidence of deliberate, ceremonial destruction, likely done just before it was laid into the ground. I was relieved to find that I hadn’t damaged it myself, but why would someone break such a fine tool? Their research suggests two compelling possibilities: a practical act, perhaps breaking the blade to be recycled into a new implement, or it was a more symbolic one, a gesture to bind two communities together or to mark a significant moment. Like the breaking of arrows to signify the end of hostilities. This gesture may explain why the actual tip of the dagger was not present, or lost nearby. Prior to finding the dagger the closest find to it was a long forgotten mole trap.<\/p>\n These theories–for we will never truly know–give so much more weight to the value of the find itself. I look at this dagger, and not just think about the 3000 years it lay on a hillside near Salisbury, but at the intentional action of the person who broke it. It is a tangible link to a world where objects were imbued with deep meaning, this dagger is scarcely more than two wedge-shaped pieces of copper today, but back then, they must have represented something quite significant. And its destruction carried as much weight as its creation. I am humbled by the nature of my hobby. This dagger, though not made of gold, is considered a hoard and is of historical value, showing that some of the greatest treasures we can find are not shiny but are instead rich with the quiet resonance of a story waiting to be told.<\/p>\n (Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/span><\/p>\n A link to the British Museum Finds database for this item is here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n [[xxxx]]<\/p>\n Last modified on 2026-02-23 15:04:56 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n 8th September 2025. <\/p>\n A fine, mild day today, but my thoughts are drawn back several seasons to a field near West Grimstead. We affectionately called it the ‘Bullock Field,’ a name that promised both frustration and, as it turned out, incredible reward. For several seasons, my access was limited by the four-legged tenants, and it wasn\u2019t until they were moved on that I finally secured permission to detect a field I had long suspected held secrets.<\/p>\n What emerged from that field was not one, but three thimbles. A trio of small, humble objects, all discovered beneath the sprawling canopy of a great oak tree that stood watch over the ancient footpath between West and East Grimstead. Its presence alone felt significant, but what makes the story truly remarkable is the nearby ruined and enigmatic trunk of an even older tree.<\/p>\n The oldest thimble of the three, a Post-Medieval domed, or ‘beehive,’ thimble, dates to somewhere between 1520 and 1620. Its bronze patina and three hairline splits tell a quiet story of long use. I\u2019ve since come to believe that this particular thimble, the oldest of my trio, was not lost under the oak that stands there today, but perhaps under the shade of its long-vanquished predecessor.<\/p>\n This spot was no doubt a popular place to linger. The village spring bubbled up close by, and the well-trodden footpath to East Grimstead ran right past its feet. You can almost see generations of people pausing there\u2014a seamstress from the Tudor period resting under the first tree, a child learning to sew beneath its eventual successor, and a Victorian lady losing her thimble in the grass. It was easy to picture the ladies and children quietly sewing, chatting, and perhaps a bit cross when they realised they had lost their thimbles! It is a tangible link, a quiet reminder of the many lives that have brushed past this very spot.<\/p>\n It’s the way a small object like a thimble can bridge the centuries and link two great trees and countless people, that makes this hobby so profound. This just strengthens what I’ve come to believe: every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n Object Type: Post-Medieval Copper Alloy Thimble<\/p>\n \n [13365]]<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Last modified on 2026-01-18 16:55:45 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n This discovery was as much about timing as it was about technique. I was detecting on a permission that includes a barnyard usually occupied by several dozen cattle. While I\u2019m used to a curious audience, these particular residents are entirely too inquisitive; they have a habit of following me around when I’m in the same field and it only took a single wet nose in my ear for me to decide that wasn’t worth the risk. That and the constant fear that they would step on my precious detector when I was otherwise occupied with digging, which makes it nearly impossible to focus on a find.<\/p>\n There are seven other fields on this property, but the barnyard\u2014the field closest to the farm’s heart\u2014had remained a “no-go zone” for seasons. However, on this visit, luck was on my side. The landowner had decided to keep the cattle in the barn for the morning, leaving the yard silent and empty for the first time. I didn’t waste a second. I stepped into the gate and barely 30 paces in I caught that unmistakable, sharp “zeep!” of high-quality silver.<\/p>\n The museum’s formal analysis identifies this as a small but significant artifact from one of the most transformative periods in English history.<\/p>\n This coin is a direct link to the dramatic reign of a king who forever changed the course of the nation. Struck at Canterbury, it entered a world defined by the English Reformation and the dissolution of the monasteries. The extreme wear on the silver tells its own story. This wasn’t a coin that was hoarded or lost shortly after being minted; it was handled, traded, and passed through countless hands for decades. It likely stayed in pockets and purses long after Henry\u2019s death, witnessing the religious and political upheaval as monasteries were closed and new doctrines were established. For a common subject of the Tudor era, this penny represented a day’s labor or a meal\u2014a tangible part of the daily struggle during a time of monumental change.<\/p>\n Finding this coin so quickly after the cattle were moved makes me wonder what else is resting in that specific patch of ground, shielded for many a season by its protective “guard” of curious cows.<\/p>\n To the original owner in the 16th century, losing this penny might have been a minor tragedy\u2014a bit of silver dropped in the mud near the barn. To me, it is a “keeper” that bridges the gap between the quiet rural life of a Wiltshire village and the grand, turbulent history of the Tudor court. It is a reminder that history doesn’t just happen in palaces; it circulates in the dirt of a barnyard, waiting for the right moment to be found.<\/p>\n I\u2019ll certainly be keeping my eyes on the barn doors for the next time those cows are tucked away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-06-07 08:54:07 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n The Salisbury plains awoke this morning under a sky of shifting greys, promising a day of fitful showers that never quite delivered, leaving the air damp and mild. The distant rolling hills, normally a vibrant and varied green, were instead a more uniform green under a soft, diffused light, giving the landscape a contemplative air.<\/p>\n There’s a particular gate I favour, marking the boundary of a familiar field \u2013 a sprawling, ancient pasture to the south of Salisbury that often yields secrets. It\u2019s the same gate, in fact, where my car found rather too much purchase after a recent downpour, leaving my vehicle stubbornly mired in the rich, clinging mud of Wiltshire. Today, though, the ground beneath my feet felt firmer, a blessing I didn’t take for granted. This gate, incidentally, seems to be a magnet for lost treasure; last summer, I pulled a beautiful Georgian florin right out of the hardened mud where cattle and horses have churned the earth for at least two centuries. That find was a true testament to the layers of history beneath our feet.<\/p>\n As I stepped from the car, my eyes had already begun their restless scan of the ground. It\u2019s a habit, a subconscious dance with the earth, and sometimes, just sometimes, the earth chooses to reveal a glint without the need for a shovel. Today was one such day. There, exposed to the sun on the flinty path leading to the gate, a small disc caught the light. No signal, no digging, just a simple, surface find, yet it immediately fired my imagination far more than many a deeper signal.<\/p>\n It was a coin, distinct and foreign. Not bearing the usual Queen’s head or forgotten farthing, but something altogether more exotic: a Croatian Kuna, specifically from 2004, celebrating Croatia’s switch to the Euro. It’s obverse featured a striking commemorative design \u2013 a sweet nightingale in profile. Given that the Kuna is no longer legal tender, and the considerable distance between Salisbury and the sun-drenched Adriatic coast, its presence here is truly a captivating mystery. I admit to having to google the text on the coin, as I had no idea what language it was in. The coin says REPUBLIKA HRVATSKA and that led to a great page about the coin on the Numista<\/a> website.<\/p>\n How did it come to rest by this humble gate, on the edge of a foot path connecting ancient villages? My mind immediately conjured images of an unlucky hiker, perhaps a backpacker tracing the ancient flint trails that criss-cross this region, his pockets jingling with various currencies before a momentary slip saw this memento of a Mediterranean journey fall unseen. Or perhaps it was a local resident, returned from a Croatian holiday, the coin slipping from a hole in the bottom of a rucksack, dislodged and dropped unawares.<\/p>\n This field, you see, sits tantalisingly close to the poignant ancient ruins of Clarendon Palace<\/a>, a site that has witnessed centuries of royal intrigue and historical events, drawing visitors from far and wide for generations. Indeed, a well-known circular hiking route (a pleasant 4.8-mile walk<\/a>) connects the ruins of the palace to the charming village of Pitton, where one can find the truly excellent Silver Plough pub \u2013 a perfect spot for weary walkers to reflect on their journey and perhaps share a pint.<\/p>\n For me, metal detecting is less about the inherent value of the metal, and more about the profound value of the stories each object holds. This little Kuna, far from home and no longer holding monetary value, resonates with the silent passage of time and the endless human narratives imprinted on the landscape. The thought of it traveling over 800 miles and then lying silently for a day, a year, or a decade or two, a whisper from another country, offers a unique kind of meditative satisfaction. Each find, no matter how small or how surface-level, carries with it an echo of someone else\u2019s journey, waiting to be wondered about, and if possible, retold.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-25 16:02:19 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n The thrill of the find, the tell-tale signal beneath the soil \u2013 every metal detectorist knows it. Recently, less than a mile from the historic grounds of Clarendon Palace outside Salisbury, my efforts yielded a tangible link to England’s past: a silver shilling bearing the portrait of William III, dated 1697. This small disc of metal, once currency, now whispers stories of a turbulent yet transformative era.<\/p>\n William III, or William of Orange, ascended to the English throne in 1689 following the Glorious Revolution, initially ruling jointly with his wife, Mary II. My shilling, however, bears only his stern and badly worn profile, a clear indication that it was minted after Mary’s death in 1694. This seemingly minor detail adds a layer of historical nuance. Coins featuring both monarchs served a crucial political purpose, legitimizing William’s claim through his marriage to the English-born Mary, a direct descendant of the Stuart line. Their joint rule was a strategic move to ease tensions after the deposition of James II and to present an image of unity and stability.<\/p>\n The absence of Mary on this coin from 1697 find marks a distinct period of William’s sole reign. While all coinage from this era holds historical value, those minted after 1694 are tangible artifacts of this specific phase. For numismatists, this distinction is significant, allowing for a more detailed study of the evolution of English coinage under William III. Depending on factors like the mint mark and condition, such shillings can vary in rarity and thus, their value to collectors.<\/p>\n The year 1697 places this coin firmly within a complex political landscape. William III’s reign was defined by the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution, which established the supremacy of Parliament, and the ongoing Nine Years’ War against France. This costly conflict placed a significant strain on the English economy, leading to increased taxation and the establishment of institutions like the Bank of England in 1694 to manage the burgeoning national debt. Furthermore, the threat of Jacobitism \u2013 the movement to restore the Stuart line \u2013 remained a constant undercurrent of anxiety. While these tensions didn’t erupt into another full-scale civil war like the one in the previous century, they shaped the political discourse and required careful navigation by William’s government.<\/p>\n Finding this shilling near Clarendon Palace adds another intriguing layer to its story. Clarendon Palace, once a favoured royal hunting lodge dating back to Norman times and a significant medieval residence, had declined in prominence by the late 17th century. While direct records of William III visiting the palace are scarce, its historical association with royalty, particularly for hunting in the surrounding Clarendon Forest, makes a royal visit by him or his entourage plausible. Even without a documented visit, the coin’s presence suggests activity in the area during his reign.<\/p>\n This small silver disc, unearthed from the soil near a once-grand royal estate, serves as a tangible connection to a pivotal period in British history. It speaks of political maneuvering, international conflict, and the evolving power dynamics between the monarch and Parliament. For a metal detectorist, it’s more than just a find; it’s a piece of history held in the palm of your hand, prompting a deeper exploration into the lives and times of those who once used it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2026-01-22 15:52:40 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n Recently I was given permission to detect in a back garden near West Grimstead. It’s always a great feeling to explore a new patch of ground; you never know what stories might be lying just a few inches under the soil, what forgotten moments have been left behind.<\/p>\n Some finds aren’t about grand historical events; they’re about the quiet, enduring rhythm of daily life. That’s exactly the feeling I got when I unearthed this beautiful shilling right near an old clothesline. To think, people have hung their laundry between those very same two trees for nearly a century. To me, that is a sign of true permanence.<\/p>\n This is a silver shilling of George V, dated 1936\u2014the final year of his reign. It weighs 5.65g and measures 23.5mm in diameter. Unlike many coins found in high-traffic areas, this one has been protected by the garden turf, retaining much of its original detail and a soft, silver-grey patina.<\/p>\n I can just picture the scene: busy with her chores, her mind on a dozen other things, a resident of nearly a century ago reaches up to peg a heavy sheet, and out slips King George, landing silently in the grass. It would have been a noticeable loss back then, almost like leaving a fiver in your wash today. And there he lay for a remarkable 81 years, undisturbed through countless washes, sun-drenched drying days, and changing seasons, just waiting for someone to come along.<\/p>\n This find truly humbles me, making me feel part of a long, unbroken chain of everyday moments. The landowner was as surprised as I was and showed it to his children, who had never seen a coin with a king on it. He heartily encouraged me to check all around that clothesline! After all, if one coin could be left in the wash and hung out to dry, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? I know it happens to me at least once a week!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:10:51 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n A soft, early afternoon light broke through the clouds, dappling the Wiltshire fields in a patchwork of sun and shadow. The air had a crisp chill to it, a promise of the autumn to come, and the hedgerows were already thick with hawthorn berries. This is a field I know well, one I’ve walked many times. I’ve found a dozen or so Girl Guide badges here over the years, a curious artefact that suggests a troop once used these fields for their outdoor activities. Banging good signal though…<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-25 12:54:58 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n It was a warm, early summer afternoon, the air still and heavy with the scent of freshly cut hay from a neighbouring field. The sky over the rolling hills of Winterslow was a vast, unbroken dome of blue, and the flinty soil underfoot felt firm and dry. In a nearby paddock were three horses\u2014Buddy, Star, and Daisy. I noticed that Buddy was particularly attuned to the high-pitched beep of my pinpointer, and he watched from the fence line with a curiosity as keen as any of the dog walkers passing through. I was working a seldom visited field, the silence broken only by the players on a distant football pitch and Buddy’s occasional soft snort of interest.<\/p>\n There’s a certain magic to the sound a good signal makes, but equally, a different kind of anticipation when it’s a deep, stubborn noise that suggests something entirely unexpected. On this occasion, a hesitant but persistent signal led me to unearth something humble and remarkably worn: a token.<\/p>\n Unlike coins, which were designed for longevity, this token was a bit more ephemeral<\/span>\u2014a hapenny payable by grocer and tea merchant John Stride in the coastal town of Emsworth. The token’s lack of formal stature, combined with its long slumber in the earth, had rendered its details nearly illegible. But a quiet evening of gentle cleaning and research revealed its story, and what a story it was.<\/p>\n It commemorates a momentous event in British history: the Glorious First of June of 1794, a naval battle in the Atlantic where Admiral Howe’s fleet dealt a significant blow to the French. It was an iconic moment of national pride, and this small piece of copper\u2014with its image of the Admiral on one side and a defiant Britannia on the reverse\u2014is a physical echo of that time.<\/p>\n It’s a find like this that truly brings the past to life. I found myself thinking not just of the battle, but of the individual who might have carried this token. A sailor returning home from the war? A merchant, perhaps, who traded between various ports and Salisbury? This little disc travelled from a coastal town many miles away to end up, worn and forgotten, in this quiet Wiltshire field. It\u2019s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just made by grand figures and armies, but by the everyday lives of ordinary people, and their journeys.<\/p>\n And so, another important entry is made in our growing collection. While it’s not a Roman denarius or a Saxon brooch, this humble token is a vital find, proving once more that every find tells a story!<\/p>\n The find has yet to be assigned a Unique ID, but it will count towards my goal of 100 finds on the British Museum\u2019s Portable Antiquities Scheme database: finds.org.uk<\/a>.<\/p>\n Key Details:<\/p>\n * Object Type: Emsworth halfpenny token<\/p>\n * Historical Context: Commemorating Admiral of the Fleet Richard Howe (1726-1799) and the Glorious First of June, 1794.<\/p>\n * Obverse: Bust of Admiral Howe in a tie-wig, uniform and cocked hat. Legend: \u2018EARL HOWE & THE GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE\u2019.<\/p>\n * Reverse: Britannia seated, with shield, holding an olive branch and spear. Legend: \u2018RULE BRITANNIA\u2019. Exergue: \u20181795\u2019.<\/p>\n * Edge Inscription: \u2018EMSWORTH HALFPENNY PAYABLE BY IOHN STRIDE\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-08-13 11:09:01 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n After what felt like weeks of being stuck indoors, it was a pure delight to get out into the fields again. The first signal I dug up was a crisp, clear tone, and when I saw it, I had to smile: a beautiful George VI sixpence. First Hole Silver! F.H.S.!<\/p>\n A little while later, the detector gave me another fantastic signal. My heart was hoping, but my brain was telling me, “Don’t get your hopes up.” What came out of the ground was a ‘florin’\u2014a two-shilling piece from an era not so long ago. It’s not a truly ancient coin, and it\u2019s not solid silver, but oh, was it shiny and clean! And, most importantly, it was not<\/b> a pull tab! The little victories like that are what keep me going.<\/p>\n I know there are detectorists who find more, but two silver coins in a single weekend is a rarity for me, and it made my return to the fields feel truly special. It was a perfect reminder that the stories and treasures are always waiting, just beneath the surface<\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Last modified on 2025-10-29 08:13:12 GMT. 0 comments<\/a>. Top<\/a>. <\/small><\/p>\n June 11th. The day broke bright and clear, the sun already warming the chalk downs near Salisbury. The fields were a vibrant, high summer green, and the air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers. It was a perfect, long day for being out, and I felt that familiar, quiet hope that every day in the field brings.<\/p>\n My thoughts were immediately drawn back to yesterday. The memory of that deep, promising tone is one I won’t soon forget, nor the momentary, racing excitement as the sun glinted off something brilliant in the dark soil. To see that flash of gold, to have the heart hammer in the chest, only for it to resolve into a perfectly crushed whisky bottle cap\u2026 well, it\u2019s a detectorist\u2019s lament, isn’t it? That magnificent, heartbreaking frustration. Aside from a lone thimble, that shiny piece of modern detritus was the only thing of note. It was a reminder that history is layered, and often, the most recent layers ring out the loudest.<\/p>\n But what a difference a day makes!<\/p>\n Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, the ground decided to offer a profound gift. I was working a section of field where a footpath once led from Alderbury to Laverstock, and my detector again sang out with a solid, bell-like tone. As I knelt and gently excavated, what emerged left me absolutely gobsmacked\u2014a tiny, worn disc of metal, dark with the patina of millennia.<\/p>\n This small object was a genuine Iron Age Stater, a coin of the Durotrigian tribe who controlled a large area including the Isle of Wight. The museum would share loads of interesting details about it: That dated specifically to the period between 58 BC and AD 43. It\u2019s the \u2018Hod Hill type\u2019, which is instantly recognisable to those who study this period. The obverse shows the highly stylized wreath, cloak, and crescents, while the reverse features a dramatically disjointed horse facing left. What truly deepens the story is that the coin was originally silver-plated copper alloy, and may even be a contemporary copy. Which might explain my finding it so far inland.This wasn’t solid gold or silver, but a base metal given a gleaming surface\u2014a commentary on the technology and economics of the time, where trust in the currency was perhaps as important as its intrinsic value.<\/p>\n (Rights Holder: The Portable Antiquities Scheme. Used with permission under Creative Commons.)<\/p>\n Imagine that! Some person, over two thousand years ago, walked this landscape carrying this coin. It\u2019s a direct, tangible link to a life before the legions of Rome arrived, a small piece of the Durotriges\u2019 world right in my hand. It reminds me that even when the disappointment of a shiny bottle cap hits, the patient detectorist will eventually find that the the ground, it seems, always has another, much older story to tell. Every find tells a story.<\/p>\n Key Details:<\/p>\n Unique ID: WILT-309287<\/p>\n Object Type: Iron Age Durotrigian Stater (Hod Hill Type)<\/p>\n Historical Context: A silver-plated copper alloy coin dating from c. 58 BC – AD 43. It was produced by the Durotriges tribe and features a highly stylized depiction of a head (obverse) and a disjointed horse (reverse). It may be a contemporary copy, offering a fascinating insight into the economy of pre-Roman Britain.<\/p>\n Weight\/Diameter: 2.4 g \/ 17.9 mm<\/p>\n<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n<\/h4>\n
\u00a0<\/h4>\n
\u00a0<\/h4>\n
Find 2: A glimpse of Roman turmoil<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/span><\/p>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nFind 9: The Weight of the Mystery<\/a><\/h2>\n
Find 8: The Dagger out of Time<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/figure>\nFind 14: Thimbles of the Grimstead Oak<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/figure>\n\n
Find 3: The Bovine Barrier<\/a><\/h2>\n
Analysis and Context: A World in Flux<\/h2>\n
\n
Reflections: The Barnyard\u2019s Secret<\/h2>\n
Find 80: A well traveled Kuna<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/figure>\nFind 75: William III Shilling<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/p>\nFind 7: Laundry Day, 1936<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/figure>\nFind 13: Girl Guide Pixie Promise badge<\/a><\/h2>\n
As my detector sang out a strong, clear signal, I felt that familiar surge of anticipation. The ground here is a bit dense, so it took some careful digging, but what emerged was a small, oval bronze badge. A quick brush-up revealed not the familiar trefoil symbol of the Guides, but a dancing pixie-like figure. It’s a simple, unassuming thing, but it immediately felt different from the others I’ve found.
This badge, as I’ve since discovered, is a Girl Guide Promissory Badge\u2014a small token given to girls who were considering joining the movement. It\u2019s an object that symbolises potential and a budding commitment. What’s truly fascinating is its design, which places it firmly in the 1940s. I imagine joining the girl guides, or even the Brownies was a different proposition than it is today. In fact, the other badges I\u2019ve recovered from this very field are largely from the 1970s and 80s, suggesting a continuous, if not regular, use of this particular spot over several decades. It gives me a sense of the generations of girls who have come to this place, on an endless progression of summer days to develop skills, learn teamwork, and explore nature.
It\u2019s these small connections that I find so rewarding. This tiny piece of brass, separated by a generation or two from the others, links us to a moment of decision for a young girl many decades ago. It\u2019s a quiet reminder that every find, no matter how small, tells a story.<\/p>\n<\/figure>\n
\nFind 4: The Glorious First of June<\/a><\/h2>\n
Find 5: First Hole Silver!<\/a><\/h2>\n
<\/figure>\nFind 6: The Highs and Lows of Metal Detecting<\/a><\/h2>\n
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