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I asked Ed for a copy of his article from a couple of years ago in Blade magazine which explained his source for the beautiful sheephorn he uses as handle material for his incredible knives. He sent it to me in email. I am going to post it here assuming that Ed will not object. I am trying to lure him out of the lurkers closet and get him to actually share with all of us. Be nice, and quiet, and maybe we can flush the Fowler out were we can all see him. No shooting!
Sheep Horn Dealings
By Ed Fowler
Making knives takes in a lot of involvement with folks you would never get to know otherwise. Making knife handles out of sheep horn has introduced me to more kinds of folks and situations that have been interesting to say the least.
Natural materials come from nature and while she has her laws, when man gets into the situation all kinds of things happen. When I first started ranching, the Riverton Livestock sale barn used to handle a lot of aged horned bucks. Some nights there were hundreds come through the sale ring. I was always amazed by the majesty and beauty the old bucks carried on their heads. There arent many folks north of the boarder that care to eat them and most end up in Texas, then across the boarder into Mexico. In those early days an old buck would sell pretty cheap, especially an old buck that was obviously on his last legs and unable to make the trip to Mexico.
I decided to try making something out of the horns and bought a few. As I learned more about them, and the knives I made were getting easier to sell, I bought more. The ranchers watched me buy the old bucks and as most of them didnt know me stories started to circulate as to my need of them. Some said I ate them, others just thought I was kind of eccentric.
One afternoon I was sitting by an older gentleman, we were talking cows and sheep as they came through the ring. An old dying buck came in and I bought him for the grand sum of $1.00. He asked me what in the heck I was going to do with him? I showed him a knife and told him that I made knives and used the horns for handles. He said "Heck, I go to lots of sales and can pick some up for you".
I figured it wouldnt hurt to pick up a few extra and explained that I wanted old sick and dying bucks with good horns for as little cash as possible and that I would chip in for gas to help him bring them to Riverton.
About a month later I got an early morning call. They said that they were unloading some bucks for me. It was an exceptionally cold snowy morning the thermometer at -35 f. I put the stock racks on my pickup and headed for the sale barn figuring on three or four old bucks. As I drove into the lot, all I saw was a semi backed up to the ramp. I started to get kind of suspicious. Looking close I saw that they were unloading sheep, looking a little closer, my fears were confirmed, they were old horned buck sheep. I later learned that the man I was talking to was one of the biggest order buyers around when it comes to sheep. A few to him meant less than a thousand.
Talking to the driver, he was kind of apologetic as many of the bucks had died on the trip, but that his insurance would cover them. My bill still came to about $400 more than I had in the bank. This was one time in my life that I was very thankful for a blizzard.
I told him to just pile the dead ones up in the corner of the parking lot and I would haul them away for him. He was grateful and I was thankful. I thought about trading him the dead ones for the live ones, but he probably would have not gone for it.
It took me the most of the day hauling the live bucks home seven at a time in my pickup. I hired a kid to help me load the dead ones and we piled them up in a far corner of the ranch for the coyotes and what ever else would eat them, figuring to pick the horns up in the spring. I had enough sheep horn to last years.
The live bucks presented a different kind of opportunity. I knew of no way to take the horns off of a live buck without fatal consequences. While I was trying to find a way to use the meat, after slaughtering them for their horns, the ones awaiting a final destination continued to eat hay, lots of hay. My part time hired hand refused to enter the corral, a lesson learned when he was a kid, his folks raised lots of sheep and he had the pleasure of graining the bucks. Walk into a pen of old bucks with a bucket of grain and they get pretty competitive for their share and things get pretty interesting. A little kid walking through a bunch of bucks with a bucket of grain learns a lot about broken field running. Little kids graining bucks always have lots of impressive memories. They would make great running backs if only they still had knees and hips that worked.
I tried to find a way to eat the meat, as it was getting more expensive all the time, meanwhile,their value in the sale barn had hit rock bottom. Old buck sheep have a very distinctive flavor. Kind of like liver to those who dont like liver, only a little more intense. I hated to waste the meat, so I tried about every recipe imaginable in hopes of being able to eat them. I found several interesting facts. First I tried to blend the buck sheep meat with beef to stretch the beef a little further. The result of this experiment was the determination that one teaspoon of sheep meat mixed with ten pounds of hamburger rendered the total completely unpalatable.
One day my grandmother gave me a recipe for sausage that looked like it might be the answer. As a good friend had a slaughter house, walk in smoker, blenders and a grinder we gave it a try. This proved very successful. Our sheep jerky sausage became very popular and was sold and given away for Christmas presents. The demand became overwhelming and we soon had orders for hundreds of pounds of sherky we decided to go into the sheep sausage jerky business. Fully convinced that we would not only become rich, I would be able to obtain sheep horn for knife handles virtually free. We then entered the real world. Going into production with food for human consumption involves more bureaucrats and rules than my corral has flys, the great sherky business became a memory.

Sheep Horn Dealings
By Ed Fowler
Making knives takes in a lot of involvement with folks you would never get to know otherwise. Making knife handles out of sheep horn has introduced me to more kinds of folks and situations that have been interesting to say the least.
Natural materials come from nature and while she has her laws, when man gets into the situation all kinds of things happen. When I first started ranching, the Riverton Livestock sale barn used to handle a lot of aged horned bucks. Some nights there were hundreds come through the sale ring. I was always amazed by the majesty and beauty the old bucks carried on their heads. There arent many folks north of the boarder that care to eat them and most end up in Texas, then across the boarder into Mexico. In those early days an old buck would sell pretty cheap, especially an old buck that was obviously on his last legs and unable to make the trip to Mexico.
I decided to try making something out of the horns and bought a few. As I learned more about them, and the knives I made were getting easier to sell, I bought more. The ranchers watched me buy the old bucks and as most of them didnt know me stories started to circulate as to my need of them. Some said I ate them, others just thought I was kind of eccentric.
One afternoon I was sitting by an older gentleman, we were talking cows and sheep as they came through the ring. An old dying buck came in and I bought him for the grand sum of $1.00. He asked me what in the heck I was going to do with him? I showed him a knife and told him that I made knives and used the horns for handles. He said "Heck, I go to lots of sales and can pick some up for you".
I figured it wouldnt hurt to pick up a few extra and explained that I wanted old sick and dying bucks with good horns for as little cash as possible and that I would chip in for gas to help him bring them to Riverton.
About a month later I got an early morning call. They said that they were unloading some bucks for me. It was an exceptionally cold snowy morning the thermometer at -35 f. I put the stock racks on my pickup and headed for the sale barn figuring on three or four old bucks. As I drove into the lot, all I saw was a semi backed up to the ramp. I started to get kind of suspicious. Looking close I saw that they were unloading sheep, looking a little closer, my fears were confirmed, they were old horned buck sheep. I later learned that the man I was talking to was one of the biggest order buyers around when it comes to sheep. A few to him meant less than a thousand.
Talking to the driver, he was kind of apologetic as many of the bucks had died on the trip, but that his insurance would cover them. My bill still came to about $400 more than I had in the bank. This was one time in my life that I was very thankful for a blizzard.
I told him to just pile the dead ones up in the corner of the parking lot and I would haul them away for him. He was grateful and I was thankful. I thought about trading him the dead ones for the live ones, but he probably would have not gone for it.
It took me the most of the day hauling the live bucks home seven at a time in my pickup. I hired a kid to help me load the dead ones and we piled them up in a far corner of the ranch for the coyotes and what ever else would eat them, figuring to pick the horns up in the spring. I had enough sheep horn to last years.
The live bucks presented a different kind of opportunity. I knew of no way to take the horns off of a live buck without fatal consequences. While I was trying to find a way to use the meat, after slaughtering them for their horns, the ones awaiting a final destination continued to eat hay, lots of hay. My part time hired hand refused to enter the corral, a lesson learned when he was a kid, his folks raised lots of sheep and he had the pleasure of graining the bucks. Walk into a pen of old bucks with a bucket of grain and they get pretty competitive for their share and things get pretty interesting. A little kid walking through a bunch of bucks with a bucket of grain learns a lot about broken field running. Little kids graining bucks always have lots of impressive memories. They would make great running backs if only they still had knees and hips that worked.
I tried to find a way to eat the meat, as it was getting more expensive all the time, meanwhile,their value in the sale barn had hit rock bottom. Old buck sheep have a very distinctive flavor. Kind of like liver to those who dont like liver, only a little more intense. I hated to waste the meat, so I tried about every recipe imaginable in hopes of being able to eat them. I found several interesting facts. First I tried to blend the buck sheep meat with beef to stretch the beef a little further. The result of this experiment was the determination that one teaspoon of sheep meat mixed with ten pounds of hamburger rendered the total completely unpalatable.
One day my grandmother gave me a recipe for sausage that looked like it might be the answer. As a good friend had a slaughter house, walk in smoker, blenders and a grinder we gave it a try. This proved very successful. Our sheep jerky sausage became very popular and was sold and given away for Christmas presents. The demand became overwhelming and we soon had orders for hundreds of pounds of sherky we decided to go into the sheep sausage jerky business. Fully convinced that we would not only become rich, I would be able to obtain sheep horn for knife handles virtually free. We then entered the real world. Going into production with food for human consumption involves more bureaucrats and rules than my corral has flys, the great sherky business became a memory.