BOY, are those the questions or what?

Whether 'tis more noble in the eyes of the public to suffer the slings and 
arrows of 
judges, lawyers, BIA/BLM officials, collectors, sellers, archaeologists, 
activists, radicals  (not to mention irate, lonely wives), and numerous other 
busybodies, or to go merrily about our hobby, oblivious of outside influences.

Land sakes alive, folks, whatever happened to just having a simple relaxing 
hobby? 
I fear that sometime in the not too distant past, some individual, 
unwittingly to himself, agreed with another like-minded individual to 
exchange a rather attractive artifact for some set amount of monetary 
exchange.  Anyone else have this same enlightening vision, or just I? 

Thus, the pleasurable pastime of collecting flaked artifacts fell down the 
slippery slopes of capitalism.

I wasn't introduced to this memorable habit until in my late teen years, when 
I stumbled upon an interesting, though broken, (sigh ...), artifact in a 
shallow creek bed on my father's property just twelve miles outside of Hot 
Springs, Arkansas.   From that moment on, I was hooked, ... line and sinker. 
  No thoughts were had of recording data for future generations, no visions 
of environmental impact concerns

SHUCKS, how much erosive damage can one teenage boy do wading through 
streams, creeks, gullies, plowed fields, and such, anyway?  Those were the 
days my friend, we thought they would never end.   Those were the days ... 
oh, yes, ... those were the days.

Walk up to just about anyone's private land, ask and you would receive 
permission to hunt for artifacts, ... "WHY SURE!  Go down over there on the 
north forty, by the edge of the fence line, pretty good hunting in that there 
spot.   Just watch out for the snakes and such."

Now, in the aftermath of numerous lengthy, costly, bitter legal suits, and 
the resultant nightmare of governmental legislation, the average Joe Cool, 
finds himself mired down in a viscous quicksand next to the lake of emotional 
despair.  For simply wishing to pursue his enjoyable hobby, the 
hunter/collector must now run the gauntlet of radical slurs, landowners 
fearful of lawsuits, volumes of government documents, and such, creating a 
never ending challenge to his resourcefulness to obtain that which he 
desires, nay, needs. 

No thought is given to the monetary value of his finds, only sheer 
wonderment, awe, and retrospective insight into this world as it once 
existed. 

As for me, many of these hurdles resulted in steering my thoughts into the 
possibility of replicating these ancient artifacts myself. They were human 
beings, and made such implements - I'm a human being, therefore, I should be 
able to do such, and have done such. 

At this point in the study, now come the collectors accusing innocent 
knappers of violating their hobby by introducing replicas into the picture. 
Pretty please, if I can't collect them and can't make them, can I at least 
look at them, maybe caress them with a finger?

As for myself, I've learned a great deal from hunting arrowheads, and don't 
ever intend to stop. I will follow all the guidelines of which I am aware, 
and knapp replicas of these relics of a bygone past.   I see hunting and 
knapping intertwined in an endless embrace, stretching my ingrained genetic 
memories back to my, and everyone else's, past.   These two hobbies are my 
own personal time machine, and it definitely functions.  I find myself 
immersed in another era with each and every discovery I make.  Whenever I 
succeed in honing my knapping skills to the next level, or recognize a 
similar knapping pattern/technique on a discarded shard, tool, or implement, 
I feel a connection to our ancestors. 

There are still billions and billions of artifacts waiting out there to be 
found.  They are in danger of being paved over with asphalt or concrete 
before the many generations to follow us can find them.   Surface hunters, 
diggers and collectors/hobbyists can contribute greatly to the study of these 
artifacts, along with the insight and knowledge of knappers, in how these 
tools were fabricated. 

Besides folks, time marches on.  Tomorrow, our present society will perhaps 
be the strange wondrous time, which will be studied and discussed.   Perhaps 
no interest will be had in these artifacts.  Mankind's mind is fickle and 
strange, flitting from one topic of interest to the next at a moments notice. 

Stranger things have happened.

Can you grok it?