(More auction notes from Saturday)

Somewhere around the tenth time they closed an item with two different buyers thinking they had won, grandpa auctioneer apologized profusely. And added "Crap happens."

One auctioneer, in mid chant, threw in a greeting to a friend in the back "Hello there, Bud," without ever breaking cadence.

Used suitcases never seem to sell well here. Which is good, since that's where we got most of ours. Only two in this auction, which they sold together. And had a hard time selling. Pointed out that summer is coming, "when you're gonna want to take a trip. This is what you put your clothes in." That apparently made up someone's mind, as she bought them for $2.50. "Have a good trip, will ya?" from the auctioneer.

We didn't bother going outside for the truck and trailers they had to sell. Used that opportunity to get hot dogs for lunch.

Only two firearms in the estate: a .357 and a shotgun. Shotgun went cheap, but the handgun was kinda high. Man really wanted it.

Soon got to the trophies:

Most of these mounts were old, from the 1950s and 1960s. The wallboards for many were ornately carved, not found on anything modern. Our local taxidermist was there, hoping to get a couple of the smaller racks cheap, just for the boards. But he was out of luck. None of the older style went for under $50.

So, what did this sportman have? Three pronghorn mounts and two sets of pronghorn horns. All of which went surprisingly cheap. If a person had money and was smart, he would have snatched these up and then brought them back for an antiques auction, because they all went for over $200 at those. More than double your money.

Four whitetail mounts, and two mule deer mounts. All of which went well. Two muley racks went cheap, at least compared to eBay. Two moose racks, both Canadian, went well, with the largest at $275. (Same value as 15 Snap-On wrenches... somethin' wrong here.) Three sets of spike elk antlers on the carved boards. Nobody pays that kind of money for spike antlers. The buyers wanted the boards.

Most mounts were bought by an out-of-town dealer in the back of the room. Only person there wearing a tie. Or else by the man who bought the .357.

I bid on a couple pronghorn mounts, just because I could not see them go so cheap. What I really wanted was the caribou rack from Newfoundland.

Don't have any caribou antlers.

Knew I was in trouble when the beautiful Newfoundland caribou mount went for $275. Between the dealer and the ex-Mayor of our town (had seen him eyeing the mount while I was taking pictures). Dealer won, and was clearly willing to go higher. And the caribou rack was next, and soon went out of my range to $130.

Also had hopes on the only jackalope mount in the estate. But it went for $45, and was not in good condition (new ones are $60-$75). If I'm going to spend that kind of money, I want a real one (with the black horns, instead of fake mule deer antlers).

Have you ever seen an ashtray made out of an elk's foot? Or a thermometer mounted on a whitetail deer's foot? Neither had I, until this auction:

And now, so have you.

More auction notes:

When a laundry basket full of loop rugs suddenly went up to $15, the antiques dealer amongst the spotters suddenly put on his glasses and began digging in the basket. "What's in there?" was clearly the question in his mind. But it was just the rugs. He shrugged and went back to work.

The mop-broom-bucket combo was described as "for the little scrub woman." With the decidedly male audience, none of the women spoke up to object.

A four picture set of the Tetons came up, with a spotter holding up each. When the auctioneer mentioned they were the Tetons, the grandpa interjected that it was the four seasons. Auctioneer went through the pictures, one by one. "Spring, winter, winter and winter. Yep, that's the four seasons in Jackson, all right."

He couldn't decide if the Sanyo TV was a 17" or 19" screen. So he held his fingers to the screen and said "It's that big."

When selling the .270 reloads, they advised, if you shoot these, you do so at your own risk. No shit, Dick Tracy.

The auctioneer let out a whoop at the close of one item. The winner was Bud. "I'm going to write this day down on the calendar. The day I got into your pocketbook."

As usual, they saved the furniture to last. The auctioneer's younger daughter bid on the antique baker's rack, and then backed off to let her husband continue. When he won it for her she started to applaud and then leaped into his arms. In front of everybody.

Really.

Mixed in amongst the furniture was an old leather hat. Indiana Jones style. Auctioneer said it was the old moose and caribou hunting hat. None of the usual waiting as the auctioneer is forced to lower his asking bids. A voice spoke up immediately on the first asking price. And he got it. No one else bid.

The man who bought the .357. And several of the mounts. It didn't occur to me until I saw him take that hat into his hands that this was personal. This was no collector.

The deceased's son, I assume.

How frightening must it be to see your family momentos up for auction. To have to compete with so many for little items that mean so much to you.

To lose your father's belongings to a big city collector.

But the hat meant the most. You could tell.

We stuck around to try for a deacon's bench with storage in the seat. Naturally, it was the last piece of furniture. Wife did the bidding, and ended up in a two-way race with a woman three people to the right. Wife's last bid was $60, which was quickly beat by $65. When they turned to her (from just a few feet away) for a $70 bid, she quit.

So I nodded from over her shoulder. Without her seeing. And again, when it was our turn for $80. And $90. Only then did she turn around to see who was bidding against the other woman.

She was pleased. Auctioneer and spotter were grinning, too. Gave her the nod for $100, but after that she decided to quit. Other woman got it for $105. Cost her $40 just so I could have some fun.

Our other purchases (besides the video tapes and rewinder)? Five gas cans (don't ask, I only wanted two). A whole box of kitchenware just so we could get 4 Whataburger Nickel Coffee Mugs. By the look on his face, the antique dealer spotter thought we were crazy.

And a belt buckle. Made at the Old Pen by an inmate who doesn't deserve to have his name mentioned, much less put on the internet (he murdered his wife and unborn child back in the '60s). Auctioneers both knew him, and called him a mean little s.o.b. But it's a pretty silver and nickel buckle, with a hand-wrought eagle and western flourishes:

"That belongs in a museum," I told the wife after she won.

"That's what I bought it for," my local philanthropist replied.