The most appealing facet of metal detecting has to be the rush of hearing the unit announce that some unknown and forgotten relic is underfoot. Of course, more times than not, the relics are pop tabs to old soft drink cans or rusted nails.

Still, there is always the chance of something intriguing being gently brought back to the surface after decades spent concealed underground. Subtle as the act may be, gently poking around with a garden spade until one finds what has set off the hand-held metal detector can really send the mind racing.

A nontraditional, yet fond, Christmas memory of mine unfolded on a mild holiday afternoon when my family realized we still had a borrowed metal detector in the trunk. A few of us decided to stretch our legs a bit after the festivities had ended. Our quest soon found four of us in a secluded hollow between two very steep and heavily wooded central Kentucky hills near the back of the family farm.

Even at a young age I was familiar with the place. An aging schoolhouse was tucked in the tiny pasture overlooking a huge river basin. Looking back, it looked a lot like something Thomas Kinkade would have likely transferred onto canvas if the artist could have viewed the country institution during its glory days.

The location had been determined a prime locale to metal-detect, and correctly so, because a school child playing outside is probably the most likely candidate in the world to lose change out of his or her pockets. Since cattle had been the only patrons of the schoolhouse for decades, any coins were certain to be old.

The first few “beeps” of the detector, a basic model, yielded the expected slivers of small metal refuse. We stuck with it until – halfway between the board and batten schoolhouse and the sandstone foundation of the dilapidated outhouse – we struck something of interest. We sifted through the moist, dark soil alongside the shallow hole, which had been carefully excavated, and a familiar round form emerged.

As the buffalo nickel circulated through each of our hands, everyone rubbed its surface with their thumb in an effort to better view our newfound treasure. One would never expect an old nickel to roust so much positive energy among a group of family members, especially since none of us was or is a collector. I suppose that is what makes metal detecting such a satisfying pastime. Discovering and digging up a relatively mundane object, in this case a nickel made primarily out of copper, is reason to celebrate because of the process involved and having along others to share in the event.

Not long afterward, with all of us still riding the high off our find, the detector, previously used only to find property corner pins, again sounded off near the cornerstones supporting the front right portion of the two-room structure.

One of my older sisters granted me the hand trowel and I almost immediately struck pay dirt.

Churning hooves from cattle seeking shade during the hotter months had done most of the work for me, as the wheat penny rested less than 1 inch below the surface. I was ecstatic to have found the penny and carried it for days afterward.

Today the old schoolhouse has completely fallen down, but I still drive by where it stood every year and remember how happy 6 cents worth of gifts made all of us that Christmas afternoon.

— Geordon T. Howell is outdoors columnist for the Daily News. He may be reached by e-mailing highbrasshowell@yahoo.com.