Scavenger writes:

I've been busy since the beginning of October getting set up in my own work space. Since I started blacksmithing over 10 years ago, I haven't had really adequate working space. I started out in a horse shed that must have been made for Shetland ponies. Add coal smoke to a low ceiling, and you have all kinds of unpleasant black boogers. So I ended up outside under a shade tree. That of course has its own set of advantages and disadvantages, but at least I could work without asphyxiating. Since then, I have had to do my work either outside or in other people's workspace. Which means moving equipment and materials around a *lot* and always feeling like you're in someone's way. I was coordinating materials and tools in five different locations. I now have it down to three. :-)

But I finally am renting space in a former architectural millworks and have set up shop. This knife is the first piece of work I've started and finished in my new work space.

It is a commissioned blade based on my basic work knife design. It is forged from leaf spring with a minimal amount of grinding to clean up the profile. The cutting edge is filed by hand. It was hardened in vegetable oil. The wrap is 20 gauge jeweler's copper wire with cotton cord Turk's head knots on the end. The wrap is sealed with amber shellac. The sheath is Kydex.

NANOWRIMO

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Wow, this is cool. I just stumbled across this a few minutes ago when I did a google search on creative writing. Essentially, you have thirty days to write a novel of 50,000 words.

I have always secretly hoped to become a writer but have 'never gotten around to it'. I'd imagine that is how it is for everyone. It's been an on again off again thing; mostly off. Recently I had to write a newsletter for work and I had fellow employees proof it for me. One of my co-workers remarked, " Wow Feral Man (name changed), you really are a writer!" It got me thinking, maybe I am. Funny how one comment can impact our thinking, especially if it is something we have always believed deep down.

So, I am going to do this if at all possible. I want to write; to make people feel and think and laugh and cry and shake their heads in wonder. To say, "That was so cool, I wish I could come up with something like that! You've got to read this." Sometimes I want to roar like a lion or howl like a coyote because there are these things inside of me trapped and trying to get out. Maybe it is part of my feral nature, a bit of the beast that seeks freedom. Honestly, I find some liberation in writing, though few or none may read my words.

Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation". Well I won't be quiet and I won't be desperate! I will seek my muse and try my hand at this thing and see what I can do.

Here is to hoping that we may each find our own paths.

-Feral Man

18th Century Hunting Shirt

Attached is a photo showing the collar of an 18th century hunting shirt I made about two years ago. I used the measured drawing in Beth Gilgun's book, "Tidings From the 18th Century." The directions were easy to follow and the pattern is simply a series of squares, rectangles and triangles of various sizes. I began hand stitching using a backstitch (shown in an early chapter) and did the front seams and much of the collar in this way. It was challenging and it made me realize that if something takes you that long to do you had better do it right. You come to understand the saying about a stitch in time saving nine as well. You are much better off fixing the problem before it gets severe, possibly necessitating the construction of a new garment. If goods were so hard to come by in our time people might take more pride in their work and take better care of what they have. Craftsmanship is a rare skill I think.

I ended up finishing this shirt with my wife's Singer sewing machine, but there were still a few spots that required hand stitching. It's a good skill for a woodsman of any century to have.

Enjoy your journey.

-The Feral Man

direction and paradox

Imagine if you can a compass to show you which direction to take in your life; an oracle to direct and guide you. Would that it were so simple.

I like what I am doing for a living but I have a small problem. I perceive that ultimately I cannot make a living for my family in my current occupation. Factors too tedious to explain here limit my earning potential. Before long I will have one son and then another in college.

It seems that I must once again make a choice. To choose what I am doing and know that the years ahead will be a financial strain for all involved; or to change direction and try to limit the financial strain although the job might not be as satisfying.

Ultimately, I know I will choose to support my family by any means I may. If the job is satisfying but the pay is not then in the end the job will eventually become unsatisfying. The flip side is that some jobs are not worth any amount of money. I simply seek the middle ground; a relatively fulfilling job at what I deem a fair salary. A bit of freedom, a bit of direction, the opportunity and resources to create and explore. Finally, the ability to give my wife and sons what they need and maybe a bit of what they don't . I had these things once but had no balance. I did not realize and appreciate what I had and I was at times a work-a-holic. Now I have more free time and appreciate my family but cannot give them all they need much less want. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

So it is with a heavy heart that I must update the resume and strike out once again in search of employment, knowing that ultimately, I will likely end up once again in a corporation. Without such corporate support I would have little chance to run wild. The time and money to nurture the animal within is what gave me strength and sanity. How's that for a paradox; a feral man that must accept the bonds and constraints of a corporation to feed his nature?


-The Feral Man

Pirogues and skin-on-frame kayak books

Finally, a project photo! Here is a shot of my pirogue that I built about 5 years ago. I have paddled canoes and kayaks for years and owned a large sit on top kayak at one time. I enjoyed the sit on top but it was heavy and hard to move by myself. After several years of research and contemplation I decided to take the plunge and build my own boat. I went with a kit from www.unclejohns.com It included cypress stems and ribs. I added 1/4" plywood gussets to strengthen the ribs. It is covered with a layer of 3.5 oz fiberglass cloth and 5 or so coats of epoxy. The boat ended up being 11'9" long and weighing less than 25 pounds. A far cry from my 80#, 14' sit on top. It's a great boat for playa lakes and I have had it on Conchas lake in New Mexico. While on Conchas I encountered some 12" waves and a wind of about 10 mph. That was probably the limit of what I would put this boat through.

There is something very satisfying about paddling a boat of this type on still water, particularly in an area inaccessible to larger boats and those accursed jet skis. It is even more enjoyable if you built the boat yourself.

I plan to try some mouse boats at some point or perhaps a skin on frame kayak. As stated I do a lot of research and I have read portions of several skin on frame boat books over the past few years. Each has it's own merits and here is my analysis of them:

Wood and canvas kayak building, George Putz: If you have no desire to steam bend wood this is the book for you. built on plywood forms and assembled with glue and screws Putz' method is accessible to everyone. The canvas covering is attached with nails. Not interested in steam bending and stitching on a skin? If so this is your book.

Building the Greenland Kayak, Christopher Cunningham: An incredibly detailed book devoted solely to building one specific design. It introduces the reader to steam bending, construction using mortise and tennon joints, wooden pegs, lashing with artificial sinew and sewing on nylon coverings. Great chapters on making paddles, spray skirts, a tuilik ( paddling jacket), float bags, kid's kayaks and a balance stool. A balance stool is a plank attached to rockers to help train paddlers for the tippiness they will encounter in a kayak. It also includes instruction on launching and landing, rolling and paddling. If you know you want to build a Greenland this is the book for you.

Building Skin-on-Frame Boats, Robert Morris: Thorough instruction on building NINE models of skin-on-frame boats. Steam bending, joinery, lashing, stitched on coverings. A short chapter on paddle building. Good information on building using anthropometric measurements( spans, cubits and fistmeles). In addition to the good photos each book contains this volume also has excellent drawings. The voice of this book is very appealing to me as well. Here is a quote from the preface. "They are looking for a place where the human eye is regarded as a precise measuring tool, a place where "sweet" and "fair" and "true"are understood as technical terms, and romance is part of the working language." If you are not certain what type of boat you want to build this book is an excellent choice.

Enjoy your journey,

-The Feral Man

Neo-Tribal Razor

I said to myself a while back that after shaving my left cheek with my work knife that I wanted to make a razor. So I did.

The design was inspired by a decorative scroll that I'm making hundreds of at work, as well as a little knife I had seen from Neo-Tribal Metalsmith Tai Goo several years back. I saw how the scroll made a nice handle that I could slip two fingers into comfortably and then control the blade-like flaring of the scroll end.
So I took a little section of car coil spring and, while working on a commissioned long blade, forged it out as well.

First I drew out the tang very long. I rounded the corners a bit with my hammer. When it was good, I flattened the remaining stub of stock with the face of my hammer before switching to the cross pein of my hammer to spread it out into a fishtail. The spring had been cut at an angle, which gave me a blade angled pretty much as I wanted it. I just cleaned up a little with a belt grinder.


The next day I used files to round the edges of the handle a bit and smooth out the sides of the blade where my thumb and fingers would brace. After that, I forged a little pig-tail scroll at the end and curled the handle around. I came out with a larger scroll than the decorative scroll that inspired the design, but decided that it was where I wanted it. I can comfortably grip the handle with four, three, or two fingers now.

After forging, I used a file to bring it down to a cutting edge. I forged it thinner than I would a regular knife blade and filed it at a steeper angle. The corners were somewhat rounded to reduce the chances of cutting off prominent features of my visage. Once I was done filing, I heated just the edge and quenched it in veggie oil. This picture shows it right after quenching.

[img]http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff35/jamesbhelm/Knives/razor02.jpg[/img]

After taking it home and tossing it in the oven at 350 degrees, I took a nice relaxing swim in the pool with a couple of visiting out-of-town friends and my girlfriend. After all, forging all day in San Antonio, Texas in July is hot work!

Afterwards, I took the blade out and tossed it into some white vinegar I have on hand for such purposes. It will eat the scale off of the metal, leaving the texture but not doing anything much to the blade. I left it in for a few hours, then washed off the sludge of the liquefied scale. It wasn't completely clean, but I wanted to work on the edge so I could shave in the morning. I used my coarse whetrock to work the edge at a steep angle, moving the blade in circular motions for a given number of revolutions and then switching sides. This is a weird whetrock, to me at least; it absorbs oil like a sponge, which I had never seen before. I guess it's a water stone. Spit works well as the lubricant for it.
Here's the blade after the brief vinegar soak and work with the coarse whetrock.

[img]http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff35/jamesbhelm/Knives/razor03.jpg[/img]

In the morning, after pulling it out of the vinegar again and washing it off, I started to work with my medium whetrock, using 3-in-1 oil for lubricant. After cleaning up the edge some on the medium where it was more polished and I could feel and see better what was going on, I returned to the coarse stone. Sometimes that's what you have to do to get the edge established before you can really sharpen. After that, I moved back to my medium stone, moving the edge forward like I'm taking a thin slice out of the stone. Usually I go straight from my coarse stone to my fine stone and get it where it will shave hair effortlessly off the back of my hand. However, the face is more sensitive, and my beard stubble is thicker than the hairs on the back of my hand. In addition, from reading a bit about razor sharpening, I knew that the more polished the edge, the better. After working a while on the medium stone, I moved to a combination stone with a somewhat finer medium grit and a fine stone. I worked it on both sides. When I had the blade where it would shave hairs decently off the back of my hand, I took it to my strop, a long triangular piece of scrap leather that I secure on one end. I put a little Simichrome polish on it and then repeated my whetting motion but in reverse. At the same angle that I had been whetting it on the stone, I draw it backwards along the leather. I do one stroke on one side and then one stroke on the other. With work knives I typically do it about six strokes per side, but I did it more for my razor.

Here it is after the longer vinegar soak and sharpening:

[img]http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff35/jamesbhelm/Knives/razor04.jpg[/img]

After all this, I shaved with the sucker. I didn't have a mug and brush, which I know I should, and I knew that the edge needed more polishing to be really comfortable. I started off with a hot shower to soften the stubble and made sure that my spray lather covered everything well.

The razor worked pretty well. I was slow and careful and I had to think a little bit about what angle to approach the strokes with sometimes, but I was in no hurry. I gave myself a tiny nick in my nostril from the tip extending a bit further than I was paying attention to. It did quite nicely on my cheeks and jawline and around my mouth. The neck was a different issue. It's always the most sensitive area and the one that razor blades seem to have the hardest time shaving smoothly without nicking. It was not comfortable shaving the neck. I ended up with little nicks, but nothing worse than I would get on a clumsy morning with my normal Gillette. Splashed on aftershave, cleaned off the blood and I was good to go. After giving it a few mintues I washed my face to clear the dried blood from the nicks and you couldn't tell that I had been nicked at all afterwards.

This little razor slices leather quite nicely, too. I re-stropped the blade, then cut a little protective square of leather, folded it over the edge, and held it in place with a spring clamp. My buddies and I were on our way to visit with one of the other original Neo-Tribal Metalsmiths, Tim Lively, and I wanted to show it to him. When I have the chance, I'll build a little carrying case out of red cedar. I intend to keep working on getting the edge more polished and keep shaving with this. If I don't get lazy, I think this or another I make will be my razor that I use from here on. It's currently soaking in vingar. I'll leave it in until all of the scale is eaten away, then polish the edge some more.

I had never shaved with a straight razor before. I had never watched anyone in real life shave with a straight razor before.

Shuffling off this mortal coil

Scavenger writes:

Lately I have heard mention several times of "green funerals", or the idea of making your cessation of life environmentally friendly.

This will lead up to another discussion later about, "Why do you do what you do?", but for now I'll talk about this.

I'm not an environmentalist, although I am a scavenger. But for a long time I have not liked the idea of being embalmed in an attempt to preserve my body indefinitely.

I am Christian, as I think I've made clear before. I am currently animate, quick with life, walking around and making a nuisance of myself. But that will end at some point. When it happens, my soul will be judged and my body will be left behind. That which is corporeal will no longer be animate.

We are dust given a spark of the divine. Genesis tells us, "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." When that spark leaves, the body returns to its components.

And yet we fight that. I don't know why exactly. Look at the ancient Egyptians, preserving their dead in hopes that it would mean an afterlife. By doggies, I'd hate to think that my hereafter was dependent on what my body did after I left it!

We fear death. Simple as that. We fear it. We don't know what's on the other side. Religions teach us that there is more after this, but I think that even in the most devout person there is doubt and fear about losing what we know and moving into the unknown. Heaven, Hell, Limbo, Purgatory, reincarnation, a great big Nothing?

Whatever is beyond, we know our bodies fall apart after we leave them. A great deal of time, effort, and money is spent in fighting that. The reasons, as is usually the case, are not singular. From what I've read, modern embalming really kicked off as a way of getting dead soldiers of the American Civil War home to be buried by their loved ones. Not necessarily a bad sentiment. But then people saw that there was money to be made in embalming.

I love capitalism, but if you want to get through it with any real individualism, you've got to be able to cut through the crap mighty quick. Undertakers run a business, same as anyone. If they can get you (or your loved ones) to spend more money on a funeral by adding embalming, caskets, headstones, vaults, cremation, intercoms in case you are accidentally buried alive, and pinwheels turning merrily in the breeze as they lower you down, they would be poor businessmen not to take advantage of it.

Does it do the dead a lick of good? No. They're not around to give a hoot. Is it a comfort to those remaining behind? Maybe, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the idea that you're doing the last thing you can to take care of your loved one.

When my dad died, he was embalmed and put into a metal casket. It was stainless steel with automotive-quality paint. Seriously. From the undertaker's mouth. It was my mom's choice. She said that she hated to think of him with rust on his face. It was a bit of solace to her that she was taking care of him, I suppose. I don't know that Daddy would have cared one way or another.

I know I'm dust. When I'm gone, I cheerfully want to return to that dust. Quickly as possible. I don't need my body; make it dirt and let it be useful. I'll probably be buried at a cemetery outside of the church we go to, but I wouldn't mind being buried on the family farm. I don't want a stainless steel time capsule. I want a simple wooden coffin, with plain iron fittings. Preferably I would make it myself. Bury me and plant an oak tree on top of me so that its roots will go down and split my bones apart. I love huge old oak trees, and would far rather have one on my grave than a marble vault.

Being flung by a trebuchet through flaming hoops to land in the open grave wouldn't be a bad way to go, either...

I know I'm living on borrowed time with a borrowed body. I'm not going to fight to keept that body together after I'm no longer tenanting it. Am I scared of death? Heck yeah! But my faith is in Christ and I'll follow where He leads. I know that means leaving my body behind and I'm as all right with that as I think I can get.

But what gets me is this idea of "green funerals". It's trendy. Like driving hybrids. It's a way that people can proclaim that they are doing things environmentally consciously. I came up with my position on my preferred funeral years ago for my own reasons. And now the same basic idea is being touted as the latest and greatest. I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade or discourage anyone (heck, I think we all should probably drop the hooplah and just get stuck in the ground), but I'm just a bit baffled at people. You want buried in organically grown hemp shrouds? Have at it. There's no need to alert the media over it.

I'm writing this very late at night. Hopefully it isn't as rambling as it seems at this point.

Scavenger writes: Part of the purpose of this blog was to be able to show projects that we have worked on or are currently working on. We've been kind of slow lately, and so far it has mostly been philosophical discussion. So, I thought I would show a project that both I and the Feral Man worked on.

This is a knife made for a friend of ours for his birthday. I made the knife and the Feral Man made the sheath for it. This friend's brother has an interest in hunting wild boars with dogs and knives. Personally, I would at least want a spear to keep me back from the tusks, but to each their own. Anyway, the brother was forging a knife with my help, and I got distracted helping someone else and the brother forged the tang down too small. Nothing that would be dangerous for a regular outdoors knife, but when you've got an angry animal that weighs at least as much as you that you're trying to kill with a knife, the tang had better not fail on you. The brother still wanted to use it for hog hunting perhaps.

So with this knife, I was making a present for the friend and also making my version of a hog hunting knife. The tang is very broad, especially at the transition to the blade. The knife is made from scavenged materials. It's forged by hand from a Camaro performance coil spring, unused, that I was given (the friend at one point had a Camaro, so it seemed appropriate). The double guard is copper bus bar I got from a salvage yard. The wooden part of the handle is an oak branch that grew that way. I just shaped it down to a comfortable fit. The stacked leather part of the handle came from a big bag of scrap leather I got at Hobby Lobby. The handle locks into your hand very solidly; the double guard ensures that when you stab a hog, you don't risk your hand accidentally sliding up onto the blade, and the curve at the end of the handle keeps it from sliding out with any slashing or chopping motions.

The sheath is nicely done. It has a peg on the side of the sheath so that you can wear it stuck in your belt if you want. But, the Feral Man also made a separate belt loop holder. This way, you can wear this rather sizeable knife on your belt and still easily climb into your pickup without undoing your belt to take the knife off or having it awkwardly jabbing into you as you're sitting. You simply pop the sheath out of the holder when you're getting in and pop it back in when you get out. He even added an extra niftiness element by stamping a paw print onto the holder that is hidden when the sheath is in it.

Scavenger writes:

So I was at Wal*Mart last night and I bought a granite stockpot to boil rawhide dog chews in coffee.

Yes, there is a purpose...

On the turning away...

Like The Feral Man, I read Stephan King's Dark Tower series, and I see his point about the world "moving on". In fact, it seems like a good deal of my conversations with The Feral Man and my other friends consist of talking about how the world is moving on.

But you look back as far as you can and you see that it seems to be going to Hell in a handbasket as long as there have been people. Literally.

We humans seem to have a default expectation for how people *should* be: people should be kind and honest and loving and helpful and hard-working. There is no tribe on this planet that holds up an able-bodied person who decides to let someone else provide everything for them without any effort on their part as a hero. Not a real hero. Maybe an amusing trickster in stories, but in real life, a bum that should be ashamed of their behavior.

We look around us and see that we have murderers, rapists, liars, lazy people, disrespectful kids, etc. Why on Earth would we have this expectation of the "standard" being something that so few people live by, and none ever perfectly match? If the reality is so far removed from the ideal, where did this ideal come from? Are those trying to live by this unreal standard succeeding that much more than others?

Yes in some cases, no in others. A hard-working entrepreneur can build a successful business. At the same time, a crook can embezzle millions and live with many times the affluence of the poor sap out there trying to make it honestly. They can fail utterly in spite of all their efforts. I saw it with my father. He was a farmer who worked as hard as a man can. He was probably the best farmer in the county (and I am getting this from outside sources, outside the family) and he put in long hours every day. Yet he could not make a living farming, and we nearly lost what we had. He became a heavy-haul truck driver, which allowed us to keep our farm. But we have had to struggle for every little thing that we have. Meanwhile, there are confidence tricksters at all levels taking money from honest people and living pretty much how they please.

So if this system doesn't mean that you will succeed, why do we follow it? What makes a person not commit a dishonest act even though it will give them what they at least think they want? Simply because it is ingrained in them by their culture? Then why are these same basic qualities valued by all cultures? Where do these values originate?

Well, my answer as a Christian is that these values come from God. They come from outside of us, often in spite of us. There is in all of us the still, small voice that tells us, "Goest thou this way and not that."

And yet we have as far back as you want to look people ignoring that still, small voice. Doing what they know they oughtn't. Eve and Adam were warned against eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and they did it anyway. Ok, don't believe in the Bible? Look at the Epic of Gilgamesh. This king was a rapist, and the people cried out to the gods to save their daughters from him. Look at ancient Egyptian mythology. Osiris was betrayed by Set, trapped in a box, thrown into the Nile, and later when his body was recovered, torn into fourteen pieces. Kronos of Greek myth castrated his father Uranus, and then devoured his own children to keep from being supplanted as ruler of the cosmos. None of these would be held up as admirable actions in any culture.

I came to a realization a little over a year ago. Everything that we do either turns us towards God or away from God. The purpose of life that so many people have looked for is simply to turn towards God. When we turn away from God, we are committing evil.

And this is where our sense of the world "moving on" comes from. There was no glorious golden age in the past when men were more virtuous than they are now. There were some aspects of some people in some places at some times that were better than what can be found in general popular culture in America right now, but men have been wicked from right after the beginning. So it is not that the world is necessarily degrading from a better state that it once possessed - we've always been degrading from where we know we should be.

We are aware of people turning from God, and our still, small voice tells us that it is wrong. It catches our attention more than the good, because it is a deviance from our "default" good of turning towards God. So it comes to seem like everywhere you look, things are on a downhill slide into the gutter. And it is true in some cases (*cough* TELEVISION *cough*), but overall things are how they have always been.

So what are you doing to help the world move on? And what are you doing to help it get back to where it should have been in the first place?

More thoughts in this vein later. And forge pictures!

Bachelor cooking, part one

It's been almost nine years since I left home. I'm 26 years old now, and I'm finally starting to cook regularly for myself. Part of it is because I'm dead broke and you can get a lot of food items for under $5 a piece if you can cook it yourself. Part of it is that I'm a strong individualist and I don't like not being able to provide one of the most basic human needs for myself.

So, I thought I would throw in an easy-to-fix concoction I started making a few weeks ago, and follow it from time to time with another recipe. I just got through making a batch of this and am letting it cool a bit before eating a bowl of it.

Modified Wolf Brand Chili:

Take one can of Wolf Brand Chili, no beans, and put in a cookpot. It usually helps things if you open the can and pour the contents in instead of just putting the whole thing in. (Insert rolling eyes here.) Take one can of Ranch Style brand black beans and add it in. Take one can of Ro-Tel brand chopped tomatoes and chili peppers. Add a slug of Pace Picante Sauce, to taste. Mix the whole shebang together and let it simmer until it's all nice and warm. If you haven't washed the pot since the last time you made a batch, you may want to bring it up to a boil for a few minutes to kill off any bacteria.

Yes, bachelors can be very barbaric at times.

Spoon out a bowl, add half a package (or more) of crushed Zesta brand saltine crackers, and mix so that the crackers are evenly distributed. Serve with a glass of cold milk and generous slices of "yaller cheese" as my Daddy used to say. You should be able to get at least three hearty meals out of one batch.

That is one thing about my cooking: typically it is done in a large enough quantity that you can eat for several days without having to cook again. Yet another symptom of being a bachelor.

Cheerleading

I was thinking more about my earlier comments on cheerleading. I have no issue with cheerleading. I just find it amusing. It's the same old thing. Centuries ago you tried to get your young warriors to raid the neighbor's cattle. Now you try to get them to defeat the opposing sports team. What is their motivation you ask? Well you have various degrees of money and/or fame but ultimately it all comes back to the cheerleaders. If you distinguished yourself in battle you might catch the eye of a 'cheerleader' and get a roll in the haystack; now it's the backseat of a car. Some things never change. If you doubt my logic go to a pep rally at the local highschool. Ever seen a really unattractive cheerleader? Of course not, you must be popular and attractive to be a cheerleader because they are held as the ultimate example of what one's battle renown might gain. Look at the outfits. If shouting alone were enough to inspire the troops then they could wear a lot more clothing. I do not envy my friends with daughters.

If you are observant you might get a glimpse of what I call group emotion. The generation and directing of group emotion is the second function of cheerleading. This is one of the more recent innovations. Now we take an audience to battle and if they are not stirred up enough by the sight of their warriors we have the cheerleaders to inspire them. The cheerleaders shout. The audience responds. The warriors hear and are inspired to greatness. Of course there is an ugly side to group emotion. Ever been in a crowd where they were shouting for blood? Where they wanted actual harm done to the opposing team? Of course you have. This is where the primitive aspects really show. Maybe we are not so evolved as we think.


-The Feral Man

Blowing the flames

Scavenger writes:

My friend The Feral Man had talked for a while about doing a blog, which touched me off to thinking about doing one as well. But we're both the types that can take a long time putting off a project for various reasons. Don't get me wrong: we do a lot, but we have so many interests that it can distract from focusing on one project enough to start, particularly with trying to fit in school (no longer a factor for either of us) and putting food in our bellies (a very large factor!) with working on nifty stuff. I figured that with both of us sharing a blog it would help to keep it from stagnating as we got distracted by some other aspect of our life, as well as allow us to serve as a spur to each other.

We're quiet, unassuming oddballs. He studies medieval European martial arts; I want to build a roadster pickup based around a Chrysler torsion bar subframe. Many people don't seem to know how to handle oddballs, especially when they are younger. I remember from very early on in school how my classmates reacted with incredulity and then mocking when they found I didn't give a rip about football, basketball, baseball, or sports in general. They had never experienced someone like that before. And yet, The Feral Man and I hold much the same views on high school sports as being a very primitive form of ritualized combat, not appreciably different from stick fighting in Africa or the original bungie jumping from a jungle platform with a vine tied to your ankle. We both grew up in podunk little Texas towns, separated by half the state and a span of somewhere around fifteen years.

We're going to take the kinds of things that we talk about on the phone and put them out there for the world to see, or at least however many of them wander onto this little corner of the web. Conversation that isn't a list of what team is throwing a ball back and forth at the moment, or what the schedule on TV is. Pictures of what we're working on. Philosophy on life, the universe, and everything.

So come pull up a log and share our campfire. It will be different, I can pretty much guarantee you that.

A spark in dry tinder.

My friend Scavenger and I have known each other for several years now, brought together by a common interest in blacksmithing. Over time we found that we shared many interests and values. When we lived closer together we would get together to forge and end up talking into the morning long after the forge had cooled. Now that we are separated by several hundred miles we though this would be a great way for us to share our projects and thoughts with each other and the general public.

So, what started this? I had been at my new job for about a week. I was in a local cafe with a coworker waiting for a meeting and we were looking at the posters of local high school athletic teams and cheerleaders. As we stood there a thought struck me; that cheer leading must have been around for centuries. I said I wondered how many times a clan brought out their young women to shout and dance and jump about to encourage the young men to go raid the neighbors cattle herd or some such thing. A fellow employee from another office looked at me and said, "You're not the type we usually get." On one hand I was flattered that he noticed I was not the usual type and on the other I was a little off balance. I work in AG in a small community and most farmers expect a certain type. If you don't fit the mold you often don't fit at all. I'll have to be careful.

That weekend I called my friend Scavenger and we had a good laugh over the whole thing as our minds work similarly. Around our campfire we don't have to worry about waxing philosophical. If we want to talk about books or politics or the how to heat treat a blade we are free to do so.

-The Feral Man