Disclaimer: At the advice of my attorney what you are about to read may contain Garsonian-like comments that may break your heart, pop your fantasies, or otherwise cripple your mental health. If you are under 40, off your medicine, prone to self-loathing, or have a paucity of chest hair, proceed at your own peril.
Knife form/flow surges my blood pressure. Ditto sheath.
Normally wood spacers abuse my eyes, in that they invariably look contrived as in, "this fantastic ironwood block is a little short, let's add a spacer." Sandwiched between metal and shaped, this one looks better, much better; in fact I love it.
Brass: Uh . . . well . . . uh, I like it better than aluminum. As far as hand-codling for up-keep, I'm perfectly fulfilled at keeping blade-rust at bay and a sheen on the handle. When I feel the need to shine brass, I polish the trim on my wood stove.
Nick, Tim, and Larry have the right idea about embellishments, but they stop short. On hunters of this caliber, embellishments (especially red lip-stick) are as classy as those promoting a hooker working the corner of 1rst and James in downtown Seattle.
Would I buy this knife? . . . pretending that Peter or someone might actually care what I would do. Surely, if I were a maker, piece, price guy. If my shtick was piece, maker, price, unless the price was compelling or Larry would not take my order, I'd be inclined to pass and place an order with Mr. Feugen.
Ken