James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
Buck Skinning Gut Hook Knife Zipper 191BR | Hunting Fixed Blade Full Tang Brass
1 min read
Some knives look too good to use, and this 8-1/2-inch full-sized skinner (with a 4-1/4-inch hollow ground high carbon stainless steel gut hook blade) almost crosses the line into the collector’s zone. Fortunately, like the other knives Buck makes, it was built for work.
The brass butt and finger guard perfectly complement the laminated polished wood handle of this full tang knife. I have knives with Brazilian rosewood handles that don’t look better than this one. (Buck says this is birchwood but I’m skeptical; it looks better than birchwood should). Brass fittings will dent and nick if you use the knife for rough work, but minor flaws will polish out — and for sheer good looks, brass wins over steel every time.
Skinning knives have always been special purpose blades, ground thin with bold curves. That’s been true since the Stone Age, and you can still see the evidence in old camps where the pretty arrowheads and spear points were stolen ages ago, and the crude stone chips and thin flakes that served as butcher’s tools still litter the sand. Today skinning knives are more of an art, but they still have to do the work to be any good.
If you look at the gut hook on this knife, you may think it’s more style than function, a bit too slender, but C. J. Buck — fourth in the line of those famous American knife makers — designed this one. You can expect it to slip through the work without ripping through what’s below. But don’t try to open cans with it. Have some respect for art.
James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
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Some knives look too good to use, and this 8-1/2-inch full-sized skinner (with a 4-1/4-inch hollow ground high carbon stainless steel gut hook blade) almost crosses the line into the collector’s zone. Fortunately, like the other knives Buck makes, it was built for work.
