This broken knife. Everready is a 10 dollar find at a gun show, made by ATCO. Never heard of them, made in Italy. It has opened every deer that I have killed since I bought it, 'cept the one I killed after Everready had a bad experience in the dryer. One of the scales broke, as jigged bone does not do well tumbling in a steel drum.
My buddy just made me some new scales out of lignum vitae. That oughta do her! Is the knife magic? No. But its history with me makes it valuable to me, and my friend's kindness makes it priceless. I can't wait to make it whole with the blood of a deer staining the unfinished wood.
I carried a Dano arrow all last season. I carried Frank's antler-butt necklace and Robin's bearclaw.
There are other things that I carry to camp, but not necessarily into the field. My best medicine is my attitude. I walk in gratitude for all that the Creator has given not just us, but the world. A functional world could have had all the inherent beauty of a Borg Cube, but God adorned it with filigree and scrolls. Why?
It had to be love, a love of creating, a love of beauty.
God could have created us with the sense of beauty possessed by tetanus bacilli, which, I assume, have very little or none. We are, however, created with an appreciation for and a desire to create beauty. Why?
It had to be love. The love that was given by our Creator lives within us, echoes of our source. How can I explain this to the nonhunter, that I walk in gratitude, love and awe, yet I am seeking to kill?
The other word for medicine is mystery. And so, medicine is that which we find it impossible to explain. Perhaps that is why the tabus regarding talking about that which we hold clutched to our hearts, tied in our braids, in our medicine bags. To expose it to air dries it out, reduces it to dusty words, soulless pictures.
But something that one considers to be lucky, now that appears to be fair game. You can see my rabbit's foot, but you better ask before you touch it.
Killdeer