So a couple years ago a friend came to visit and was very keen to get out and shoot some feral goats. I had my Tikka and lent him a beautiful G2 Contender in 7-30 Waters. As if that wasn't enough, he tells me he has forgotten to bring his hunting knife, so with great trepidation I sift through my collection and add my specialist boning knife to a sheath for him to carry. I figured I would take my skinner myself, and if we got a few goats - we could bone them out in the field to lighten the walk home.
As it turned out, we bowled over a half dozen animals and began the prep work. I was showing my noob mate how to get down into the hip joint to separate the back leg...... You guessed it, my wonderful boning knife I had carefully shaped and sharpened to just perfect over years of trial and error went end-on into the joint - "Like this?" he says....... "NNN...." I almost say.... SNAP! That thin sickle of a blade just wasn't the crowbar my mate thought it was.... Blast.
Still, it wan't as messy as the time he asked to borrow my Kershaw Talon II to cut a rope - then proceed to 'lean into' the job when the wrong edge of the knife just wasn't doing the cutting. I saw it too late - he sliced his hand open on the blade, thinking it was the spine of the knife. 25 Years in the British Army too.
No more lending the Talon to anyone (I can see how the blade shape could confuse the uninitiated) and I am ver y picky about who touches even my old hunting blades - knives don't always have to be new, pretty, tactical or made of Kryptonite to hold great worth to me - and I ain't never quite managed to find a replacement boning knife that was quite as good as the one sacrificed to a goat....