bottle digging TIPPECANOE AND A SWAMP DIG TOO!

ANOTHER "GREAT BOTTLE DIGGING STORY" FROM THE PAGES OF

ANTIQUE BOTTLE AND GLASS COLLECTOR MAGAZINE

THE MAGAZINE OF THE ANTIQUE BOTTLE COLLECTING HOBBY

Every year one or two more bottles topple off my list of rare, unfound pieces. A historic, a skull and crossbones coffin, or an unusual pontiled medicine in color, all of them eventually succumb to the shovel. Recently I was able to remove one more elusive item from the roll. Found throughout the years in pieces (if at all) this beautiful 1880’s bitters finally crossed my path one muggy, muddy afternoon in the summer of '98.

The swamp on the east side of Belford (Middletown Township) New Jersey and I have had a love-hate relationship for years. It is loved because all its bottles are blown and because over the last 5 years the site has produced several excellent artifacts. The site is hated because of the mosquito-ridden muck that conceals compacted trash layers. Also, there are too many eyes.
With an apartment complex on one side of the depression and a series of townhouses on the other there is literally no way to get permission and stealth is always a necessary companion. Camouflage and hushed curses direct your every move. Sturdy chest-high waders and long, tough shovels are basic equipment while thick rubber gloves protect you from broken glass and the occasional snapping turtle.

This dump would have been completely dug out 10 years ago if it wasn’t for the ominous row of condos that sat on the right flank of the site. Although the apartments were equally distant on the opposite margin those people rented so, to them, bottle hunters seemed like just another part of the landscape. Not so with the townhouse dwellers. They owned their homes and took great offense to anyone invading their slimy, smelly, (not to mention useless to anything other than reptiles, woodpeckers, and maniacal bottle diggers) swamp.

Each summer (when the bamboo was at full height) the digging season would begin. Inevitably a condo-ite would see a tailings pile or hear strange sounds echoing off the marsh and I’d get unceremoniously ejected. Everything turned on luck; I got what I got. When asked to leave that season was over. And so it went.

My '98 Swamp-Fest began late. By July all the local woods dumps had been exhausted and with nothing new on the horizon the old Belford site was my last chance for nearby blown booty. Most of the inner sections of the marsh were dug out - at least those areas that weren’t in the direct sight of the

condo-ites. The only hopeful material left was along the upper margin just below the townhouses and the tall bamboo. It was so close to the enemies camp that other than the occasional barking dog and wayward child you’d never be seen.

The upper edge was worked off and on with varying amounts of success for about 3 weeks. One afternoon I checked in at my ongoing spot when, to my shock, some over zealous landscaper had weed waked all of the dead bamboo (which was a crucial part of my cover) into nonexistence. Feeling like the emperor with no clothes my first reaction was to gather up my gear and leave. A quick second glance presented the possibility of doing everything from a sitting position. The water was low enough to keep out of the top of my waders and, even more conveniently, a sharp eye could constantly be kept on all condo activities. The dig was back on!

Although most of the dump lay underwater the site could still be read like a book. The main drop-off locale had been the creek that formed the bottom of the depression and served as drainage for the entire marsh. The stream had supplied the mother load of artifacts and was farther from the houses so was completely dug out in the late '70s. Most of the rest of the trash settled into the lowlands as a result of the creek's many overflows. This translated to more garbage in general and fewer whole bottles getting laced throughout the swamp. It’s also the reason most of the keepers are still corked-they floated over! The site's glory days were long gone but plenty of good goods remained for those willing to work.

A little mud cave was constructed in about on hour. I got settled in and began the business of digging the virgin ledge but only received a motley assortment of dollar bottles and local common pieces. An unusual Keyport blob was shortly excavated and although it was cracked it did get me to swing left of center where a noticeable pocket of material was developing.

The sun began to fall, so in an effort to catch the last of the light I swung further left and continued to probe the underwater cache. Upon assaulting the new spot a large, cylindrical, heavily embossed bottle was quickly tapped. After years of pulling bottles out of the water you can usually take a good stab at what you’ve got before it comes up but this one had me stumped. It was too big for a blob, too small for a quart blob, and too embossed for a Duffy’s. The mystery was not going to be easily solved as garbage tightly guarded its secret identify. It was wedged in on all sides and if impatience got the better of me I’d surely never see it whole.

Finally after about 5 minutes of crouched coaxing the bottle was extricated from its watery tomb. I pulled it up through the silt bath and instantly became amazed by what was cradled in my hand - a whole, shinny Tippecanoe! Quickly placing the treasure on my tailings pile and turning in the muck on my knees I prayed to the bottle gods, the gods of artifacts, the Lord, Father of our savior, Jesus, then gently scooped up the Tippe and got to business.

Working rigorously with my brush and using the swamp as my wash I methodically removed most of the surface rust and mud. Oblivious to any potentially noisy neighbors I climbed out of my foxhole to use whatever light remained. Turning the bottle into the sun; ritualistically flipping the piece end over and, I discovered what was so eagerly sought, The bottle looked whole!

There was still 15 minutes of twilight left but I knew better. With one Tippecanoe to tow and no bothersome condo-peds in sight it was time to go. Maybe next dig I’ll get the Radam's that keeps coming up in pieces? It is still on my list....

P.S. by August 10 I’d also retrieved a Kilmers Ocean Heart Weed, a Healy and Biglows Indian Sagwa, and a rare Atlantic Highlands patent medicine but no Radam's - yet!

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