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Bonus POTD..
-
The BladeForums.com 2024 Traditional Knife is ready to order! See this thread for details: https://www.bladeforums.com/threads/bladeforums-2024-traditional-knife.2003187/
Price is$300$250 ea (shipped within CONUS). If you live outside the US, I will contact you after your order for extra shipping charges.
Order here: https://www.bladeforums.com/help/2024-traditional/ - Order as many as you like, we have plenty.
What "Traditional Knife" are ya totin' today?
- Thread starter jackknife
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- May 14, 2012
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- 11,585
Sick. Whole lotta sweetness!!And good morning.
black mamba
Gold Member
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- Oct 21, 2009
- Messages
- 23,056
Went shooting this morning and decided to take the BFC big boy stockman.
echoscout
Gold Member
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- Oct 8, 2002
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- 7,165
Rufus1949
Gold Member
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- Aug 22, 2021
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I have always liked those steel jigged Imperials.
brokebladeenthusiast28
Basic Member
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- Nov 7, 2023
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PenisMightier
Gold Member
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- Jul 22, 2023
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- 585
Those Imperial IKCO boys knives are the bees knees. I keep trying to find one of the clip point ones to match to the spear point one I have that is like yours. That green Imperial is a real looker too. Imperial made some good blades back in the day.
Cwilliams563
Gold Member
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- Jul 28, 2022
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- 2,852
btb01
Gold Member
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- Jul 26, 2008
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Today was my daughter Eleanor’s 9th birthday. We’ll be celebrating with a couple of her friends this coming weekend, so today we just had a laid back family day. Eleanor wanted to go to the mall so she could spend some of her birthday money, so we did that, then we went out for dinner at one of her favorite places.
I had Eleanor’s #71 Nifebrite Bull Nose in my pocket — it’s the knife I carry every year on her birthday, going back to the day she was born. I also had my Mike Moran straight jack with me.
Every year I take a picture of Eleanor holding her knife and post it here, along with all the previous years’ pics. I do fear what may come of this tradition once we get to the teenage years, but for now, at least, she’s still a willing participant.
Here’s Eleanor’s first knife pic at one day old.
On her first birthday:
Second birthday (still in the lead for the year she had the least interest in participating in this):
Third birthday:
Her fourth birthday:
Fifth birthday:
Her sixth birthday:
Seventh birthday:
Her eighth birthday last year:
And here’s her pic from today, her 9th birthday. (She discovered earlier this year, on one of her friend’s birthdays, that for a small fee the local Dairy Queen will put a birthday message on their sign. She’s been talking about it for months, so we couldn’t not do it.)
I had Eleanor’s #71 Nifebrite Bull Nose in my pocket — it’s the knife I carry every year on her birthday, going back to the day she was born. I also had my Mike Moran straight jack with me.
Every year I take a picture of Eleanor holding her knife and post it here, along with all the previous years’ pics. I do fear what may come of this tradition once we get to the teenage years, but for now, at least, she’s still a willing participant.
Here’s Eleanor’s first knife pic at one day old.
On her first birthday:
Second birthday (still in the lead for the year she had the least interest in participating in this):
Third birthday:
Her fourth birthday:
Fifth birthday:
Her sixth birthday:
Seventh birthday:
Her eighth birthday last year:
And here’s her pic from today, her 9th birthday. (She discovered earlier this year, on one of her friend’s birthdays, that for a small fee the local Dairy Queen will put a birthday message on their sign. She’s been talking about it for months, so we couldn’t not do it.)
Last edited:
Gary W. Graley
“Imagination is more important than knowledge"
Knifemaker / Craftsman / Service Provider
- Joined
- Mar 2, 1999
- Messages
- 27,438
Jack Wolf Barlow, with a soft leather slip sheath that I made for it
G2
G2
Last edited:
BrotherJim
Gold Member
- Joined
- Feb 9, 2015
- Messages
- 4,240
The 125th
No one had lived in the cabin since Tove Henning drowned in the bog. The key was kept under a stone shaped like a sleeping cat, and those bound to the cabin still checked the place. Mostly to see that no strangers had broken in.
Greta came the second week of May. In the shadows, frost hadn’t yet let go, but frogs were already loud in the ditch. She opened the door and found the smell was the same: dry rot, old iron, cedar smoke.
She swept the floor and found a knife under the cot. Not rusted. A thin, bright blade with a wooden handle. The number 125 stamped into the steel.
She left the knife on the table and went out to bring in kindling. Time passed. Later, when she came back, the knife was gone. In its place was a long pale feather. Swan, maybe.
She looked under the cot again. Nothing.
That night, she sat on the porch and watched the sky. It never got dark in May. Just blue, and then more blue. She saw no birds. No wind. Just the forest, and a stillness that wasn’t quite empty.
In the morning, the knife was back. Same place. Same angle. A curl of birch bark lay beside it. No feather. She didn’t touch it again. She swept around it, packed her things, locked the door.
On the walk back to the car, she noticed something else. Her name, carved small into the birch by the gate. Not new. Not deep. But not old either.
She didn’t stop walking.
No one had lived in the cabin since Tove Henning drowned in the bog. The key was kept under a stone shaped like a sleeping cat, and those bound to the cabin still checked the place. Mostly to see that no strangers had broken in.
Greta came the second week of May. In the shadows, frost hadn’t yet let go, but frogs were already loud in the ditch. She opened the door and found the smell was the same: dry rot, old iron, cedar smoke.
She swept the floor and found a knife under the cot. Not rusted. A thin, bright blade with a wooden handle. The number 125 stamped into the steel.
She left the knife on the table and went out to bring in kindling. Time passed. Later, when she came back, the knife was gone. In its place was a long pale feather. Swan, maybe.
She looked under the cot again. Nothing.
That night, she sat on the porch and watched the sky. It never got dark in May. Just blue, and then more blue. She saw no birds. No wind. Just the forest, and a stillness that wasn’t quite empty.
In the morning, the knife was back. Same place. Same angle. A curl of birch bark lay beside it. No feather. She didn’t touch it again. She swept around it, packed her things, locked the door.
On the walk back to the car, she noticed something else. Her name, carved small into the birch by the gate. Not new. Not deep. But not old either.
She didn’t stop walking.
Tyson A Wright
Gold Member
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2020
- Messages
- 1,829
Today was my daughter Eleanor’s 9th birthday. We’ll be celebrating with a couple of her friends this coming weekend, so today we just had a laid back family day. Eleanor wanted to go to the mall so she could spend some of her birthday money, so we did that, then we went out for dinner at one of her favorite places.
I had Eleanor’s #71 Nifebrite Bull Nose in my pocket — it’s the knife I carry every year on her birthday, going back to the day she was born. I also had my Mike Moran straight jack with me.
Every year I take a picture of Eleanor holding her knife and post it here, along with all the previous years’ pics. I do fear what may come of this tradition once we get to the teenage years, but for now, at least, she’s still a willing participant.
Here’s Eleanor’s first knife pic at one day old.
On her first birthday:
Second birthday (still in the lead for the year she had the least interest in participating in this):
Third birthday:
Her fourth birthday:
Fifth birthday:
Her sixth birthday:
Seventh birthday:
Her eighth birthday last year:
And here’s her pic from today, her 9th birthday. (She discovered earlier this year, on one of her friend’s birthdays, that for a small fee the local Dairy Queen will put a birthday message on their sign. She’s been taking about it for months, so we couldn’t not do it.)
These are always the best posts! Happy birthday, Eleanor!