It’s been 11 months of true everyday carry for me and my #66 stockman, I’ve enjoyed every second of it and I truly feel jaded towards other knives at this point. The sentimental factor of the knife went along way into keeping it in my pocket, but after a few months of carry it’s to the point that I would feel lost without it.
We will be knocking on the door of hunting season when I hit my 1 full year of carry, I usually switch to my #73L at that point as it is my go to knife for field dressing whitetails, but why not carry both? I’ve convinced myself to celebrate my little one’s first Christmas with his knife in my pocket and to use it to open the packages and what not, but after that I think I’ll have to retire it to the safe until he is older; simply out of fear of losing it, or taking off to much edge. Thankfully my #66 will step in after that and I can have some wear on it like my boy’s #66.
I took my wife for a stroll around the farm and showed her the abandoned orchard where the rabbits have taken over. I shared the stories of the old beagle dogs my grandfather trained and sold for years and how the cottontails remained under his protection until his grandchildren were old enough to chase them. We split an apple from the orchard as the sun began to set. The Spey blade skinned and sliced the apple into thin little pieces as we leaned against a roundbail taking in the breeze.
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The ability a knife has to capture my attention and share in my quiet, thoughtful moments isn’t to be ignored. The worry stone this knife has become is apart of my daily routine and apart of me. It’s been such a long time since I could say that about one knife.
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We will be skinning a few squirrels, gutting some rainbow trout stream side and slicing the loud, little toys out of their packages on Christmas morning soon. I’m trying not to blink and miss it all, but the months ahead will be packed with opportunity and distraction.
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