The corn worked, of course.
It was right around 6pm yesterday when a young whitetail buck appeared on Mountain Two, nosing around the semi-clearing where I’d broadcast the treat. He was the only one that showed up last night.
I had a sneakin’ suspicion that others would follow this morning.
And I was right.
The trailcam recorded almost 100 images today, mostly does and yearlings. Word got out.
According to the USDA “Drought Monitor,” which is updated every Thursday, Marion County isn’t suffering drought conditions — we’re “abnormally dry.”
Driving just 25 miles west on US Route 62, however, passes through narrow bands of “moderate drought” and “severe drought” into a large area of “extreme drought.”
Photos of the first two pocketknives I ever owned — a 1964 Camillus official Cub Scout knife and a 1968 Ulster official Boy Scout knife — have appeared before on Ubi Libertas Blog. It wasn’t until 1978 that I got my first fixed-blade.
During that memorable summer, I lived and worked in Montana, just outside Glacier Park. I spent much of my free time hiking and backpacking, and I did a lot of fairly primitive camping. Lacking a proper “sheath knife,” which I deemed essential, I went shopping at West Glacier Mercantile (which also happened to be my employer).
I chose a No.648A made by the venerable Western Cutlery Company in Boulder, Colorado.
Since it’s similar to one made by Western for the Boy Scouts, this knife may look familiar to other guys my age. The carbon-steel clip-pattern blade is 4-1/2 inches long. The faux stag scales are Delrin, the guard brass and the pommel aluminum. There’s nothing exotic about it.
The day after I bought the knife, I set out from Kintla Lake on a four-day solo trek into the Boundary Mountains on the US-Canada border. My new Western served me well.
I immediately became attached to this nimble blade, for sentimental reasons as well as its utility. Over the years, it accompanied me on everything from picnics to motorcycle tours, doing all manner of kitchen and camp chores.
And yes, I still have it.
I pulled out my old Western this morning and looked it over. A bit of white vinegar knocked the tarnish off the brass, and I applied a dose of Montana Pitch Blend to the leather sheath. Holding it now, almost five decades after I picked it up at the Merc for the first time, it feels like an old friend.
It has scratches and pits and scars, naturally, each representing a memory. Testifying to how well it was made, even though it was a lower-end model, nothing has come loose over the years.
All of the pins are tight. Nothing wiggles. The saber-ground blade is still wicked-sharp — that carbon steel always did take a great edge. The sheath has held up remarkably well.
Western Cutlery Company is no more. It sold out to Camillus in 1991, which itself folded in 2007. Westerns have become somewhat collectible, and if that’s your thing, they’re relatively affordable these days. You can snag a No.648A on auction sites for around $60.
In 1978, I paid less than $15 for mine. (That’d be $72 today.)
I believe I’ll put it into my rotation here on The Mountain. Y’know, for old times’ sake.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB