-DRM- said:
I grew up on a farm, have walked miles on various properties over the years, but amazingly enough - I have *never* found a single shed in my life!!! What am I doing wrong?
I think you have to develop an eye for them. I have a friend who will find an arrow head nearly every time we step out of the truck, but I've never found an arrow head. His eyes are trained for them, mine aren't.
But I'm getting better over time at finding sheds. Instead of expecting to see this whole shed, start looking more for "tips" of antler, or anything that might appear to be like a dog bone. In the spring, a good tactic is scanning fields with binoculars, but again, don't expect to see a whole antler, just something that looks more like a rock, two or three little rocks, or a dog bone. With the tips pointing upward, an shed antler laying in a pasture may look kinda like a couple little rocks (since only an inch or so of antler tip may be visible). Sometimes, the sight will look like someone purposefully stuck a little stick in the ground --- key thing is to look for these little clues rather than a whole antler.
A shed antler in the woods (or field edge) is often mostly covered by leaves, etc., but often with an inch or more of antler tip protruding upward, meaning you're looking more for something that may look like a pair of mushroom stems, or a couple little rocks beside each other. One of the prettiest sheds I ever didn't find was found by the person walking behind me in hardwoods. I literally stepped on on it and didn't see it, but may have made it more visible.
Another time I was squirrel hunting with my dad (back in the early 90's) when he found a shed more massive than anything I've found before or since. It was lying totally visible in a dry slough bed (nothing obstructing the view), and I walked within 5 feet without noticing it. My dad didn't initially even realize it was a shed, as I think he was just wondering what it was when he pointed it out. Kinda looked like the skeletal remains of some raccoon-sized animal.
