German hunting trousse, part XIII

After the trouble with stretching the facing over the side pockets on the last sheath, I contacted Tandy Leather about what kind of hide would work better for this purpose.  They recommended either a milled shoulder or sheepskin, with the caveat that neither of these would firm up when wet-molded.  At the time I went to place my order, the sheepskin was sold out, so I ordered the milled shoulder.  In the meantime I made an entire new core and side pockets.  I attached the side pockets this time with pitch glue, though that may have been a poor choice because it's very hard and brittle.  Otherwise, I proceeded in the same manner as before, up through the initial wet molding of the facing.

The milled shoulder did indeed stretch more, leaving little slack above the side pockets.  However, the same quality also allowed it to mold to every uneven spot on the side pockets, giving the scabbard an overall lumpy appearance.

In preparation for the final application, I shaved down the lumpiest parts somewhat.

Because the folks at Tandy expected the milled leather to remain soft after molding, which it did, they suggested installing an extra belt loop under the facing.  I used a short strip of thin but firm veg-tan with the ends and edges (outside of the middle section that was to actually go over a belt) tapered down to reduce the appearance of unsightly ridges.  Since stitching would be at risk of damage from the blade and rivets would risk damage to the blade, and both would be difficult to achieve, I glued the belt loop with contact cement.

A 1-inch belt blank with burnished edges inserted under the wet facing and belt loop to ensure that it would remain open after molding.

Lesson learned, this time I  didn't use any glue; the facing is held on only by its own tight fit over the core.  I also didn't try to pre-lace the facing before the final fitting.

I finished with some Fiebings Pro Dye and a couple applications of acrylic Leather Sheen (my bottle of Resolene is missing).  I worked the dye and finish as far in as possible so as not to leave patches of undyed leather visible.

Current state of completion, with some Fiebings Pro Dye and a couple applications of acrylic Leather Sheen.  At this point the set is useable, provided I have a belt that can carry it.  I though it would be necessary to add a metal throat to prevent the pins on the knife and fork from marring the facing, but for whatever reason they actually stand off a few millimeters.  However, I haven't seen a 17th-century hunting trousse without scabbard fittings, which always seem to have been either silver or steel.  I will have to give careful consideration on how to make them, since steel would be the best choice in this case but I have never made steel fittings, and my attempts at soldering steel have been much less successful than brass.

The other issue at the moment is that it's been very difficult to sheathe and unsheathe the by-knife, at least the final inch of it, which is necessary to also be able to sheathe the cleaver.  I haven't oiled or waxed the leather yet; hopefully it'll be easier once that's done.

Another thing that went wrong in the intervening months is that minute amounts of red rust have appeared both on the blade (while I was molding the leather) and in crevices of the fittings, particularly where the nagel is set into its groove.  I applied Ospho with an Q-tip, and once it was well-dried, worked epoxy into the deep crevices, wiping off as much as possible from the more accessible surfaces before re-polishing them.  Time will tell whether these efforts provide effective protection.

German hunting trousse, part XII and the unexpected problem

I settled on glueing the fork pocket with the seam inward and not to include a plate over the side pockets.  Fitting the outer facing was tricky; it had to be stretched to fit smoothly over the side pockets without leaving a lot of slack sticking out the sides.  For this reason I wet-molded it first.

To try to keep the facing from crushing the side pockets, I inserted the knife and fork.  To keep the facing smooth above the pockets and prevent the protruding rivet heads from making marks in the damp leather, I placed some small brass plates.  The space between the top of the scabbard and top of the side pockets is almost exactly two inches.

To get the facing to mold as closely to the core as possible, I used most of a bag of binder clips.  These somehow seem to have stained the back with little black spots, possibly from exposed steel on the edges reacting with the veg-tan (similar to vinegaroon).

Once the facing was dry, I trimmed to down to the straightest, closest edges I could manage using a combination of an xActo chisel point and scissors.

It was while punching the stitch holes that I remembered to add the belt slits, which have to be done before stitching or I would risk damaging the inner layer while cutting them.  This method is, again, inspired by one used on the Bruegel messer.  If I'm going to add a metal throat and a hoop supporting the top of the pockets, it's necessary to add the slits between them.

My plan was to loosely stitch the outer layer, soak it, insert the core and tighten the stitches one by one.

It proceeded according to plan except that I could only manage a single whipstitch with the length of linen thread I'd cut.  The outer layer shrank nicely against the core.  The problem of the facing above the pockets being a bit too large remains, but while unsightly, it's not too bad for me to overlook on a first attempt.

The use of two brass plates had caused a visible line across the top of the facing during the initial wet molding, so this time I added a single two-inch plate.  This did seem to help.

Unfortunately, a new problem came up at the end:  It seems that some of the hide glue I added to fix the facing in place either soaked through the wet leather or got out at the seams and onto the facing.  The glue appears to have interfered with the absorption of the spirit dye, so that repeated brushings of dye failed to get rid of the patchy appearance.  Whether this problem can be solved at this point and how, I'm not sure.

German hunting trousse, part XI

I initially intended to make a box-style wooden scabbard core for the cleaver, but after examining how the Bruegel messer scabbard is constructed and contacting Tod's Workshop, I decided to see whether I could make a similar style here.

The messer scabbard is two layers of fairly thin veg-tan.  The inner layer is unstitched, while the outer layer has a flat Z-shaped double whipstitch, unlike the double running stitch I'm used to using that leaves a ridge down the back.  The double running stitch is used because it helps keep the stitching away from the blade so that it's harder for the blade's point to catch on the stitching when resheathing.  An unstitched layer obviates that risk entirely, but I don't know how they manage to mold the leather to the blade with no stitching holding it in place.

In any event, I felt the need for stitching in the core layer, but also to keep the point at least somewhat away from the stitches.  So after measuring and cutting the leather as usual, I trimmed it until it looked like it would just barely wrap around the blade and meet in the middle, then poked stitch holes at an angle so they came out the sides of the cut edges.  I stitched with size 40 linen thread and soaked the core with alcohol.  On the suggestion of Sword Buyers' Guide poster erichofprovence, I made the core and side pockets rough side out, in order to encourage better adhesion between them and the rough inner side of the facing layer when everything gets glued together.  Because it seemed like it was going to be on the loose side, I tried to make sure it dried more snugly by warming it gently over a heater to shrink it, letting it spend plenty of time off the blade, and not wrapping the blade with tape.

The side pocket for the carving knife offered no such easy solution.  The 2-3oz. leather is too thin to poke angled holes out the edges.  A normal butt stitch would leave the thread exposed to the knife point.  A normal side welt would add unwanted bulk, and a double running center seam would create a ridge that would either prevent the pocket from lying flat against the core (if it were on the back) or be visible through the facing (if it were on the front).  What I settled on was to mold the pocket so the seam ran along the blade's spine and slightly to one side and down, so that it's not threatened by the blade's point or edge and lies flat against the core.

An interesting thing to note is that the rosin varnish, even after drying in the sun and then ageing for almost two years, still gets sticky whenever alcohol gets on it.

The side pocket for the fork was simpler, and in fact I think it's better not being molded, so the leather doesn't shrink in such a way as to prevent the tines from sliding freely in and out.  I did add a very small, thin welt at the tip, but this doesn't seem to prevent the tines from sliding between the stitches if the fork is pushed in too far.  I don't think of this as a serious problem.

For the time being, I'm instead wondering whether to turn the fork pocket with its side seam inward or outward.  The cleaver blade being a relatively narrow one, the main scabbard doesn't leave room for the knife and fork pockets to sit separately like in most hunting trousses.  Instead, they'll need to overlap.  For me the next question is which way will cause less of an unsightly ridge and allow the facing to lie most smoothly.

A separate issue is whether to include a leather plate with a pair of slots for the knife and fork to pass through, covering the mouths of the side pockets.  Real hunting cleavers normally had a metal plate (the metal being whatever steel, brass or silver the rest of the scabbard mounts were made of, attached to a worked metal hoop that went around the entire scabbard, presumably to help prevent the mouths of the side pockets from being crushed) although I've seen one that appears to be made of either wood or leather, and absent the ability to weld, I may be forced to rely on leather.  However, there may not be room for a plate here at all.

All this relates to the question of how much metal hardware I'm putting on the scabbard; the Bruegel messer's scabbard, for comparison, has none at all, and although they're from slightly different time periods, I can't help but think of the messer and trousse as forming a matching set.  If I made a chape and throat for the cleaver, I'd feel compelled to make one for the messer as well.

A 16th-century peasant's sword belt

Last year I bought a secondhand Tod Cutler 16thC Bruegel Messer on myArmoury.  After a few modifications, including dyeing the sheath, I set about trying to figure out how to wear it.

The belts in Pieter Bruegel's (the 16th-century Low Country painter whom this sword is named after) paintings are generally narrow (maybe one inch/2.54cm), dark or black, have D-shaped buckles (though spectacle buckles are also occasionally seen) rendered in grey, and no keeper loop.  They're apparently worn a bit loose and low for comfort and ease of movement since the belt appears to attach directly to the back of the messer's sheath.  The Bruegel messer sheath has a pair of 1-inch slits in the back for this purpose.  While possible, there's no indication that the opposite side of the belt is fixed to the clothing or another belt hidden under the outerwear — the parsimonious explanation, supported by Mikko Kuusirati when I raised the subject on myArmoury, is that the friction of the belt against the wearer's clothing is enough to hold it up.

To replicate this style, I chose a Lord of Battles small antiqued D-ring buckle from Kult of Athena and polished it to a shiny grey.  Unfortunately, the one I received is narrower than advertised, only 7/8 inch on the inside.  Since I couldn't find a 7/8-inch strap in the right weight, I ordered a 3/4-inch lightweight strap from Tandy and waited several more days for it to arrive.  I beveled and burnished the edges (somewhat difficult with such a thin, narrow strap), dyed with Fiebings Pro and finished with dilute Resolene, then oiled and waxed as usual, and stitched with heavy linen thread.

Unfortunately, I worked a little too quickly and in an awkward position on the floor because the work table I usually use is occupied at the moment.  This may be why the back wound up a bit sloppy with spots of dye and finish on it.

For the moment, the belt seems to do its job, although I wonder if it would work as well if I weren't wearing a belt with my trousers for it to catch on.

Sleigh bell belt for White Christmas

 

Mom's currently costuming a local production of White Christmas at Newtown Arts and tells me there's where a guy puts on a sleigh bell belt made for a horse and dances around for some reason. For ease of use, she asked me to make this like it was just a regular belt, although it's very long because he wears it over one shoulder and across his chest. This is a 1-1/2x48" veg tan strap with a nickel buckle and linen cord, all from Crazy Crow, finished with Fiebings pro dye, Resolene and olive oil (so it won't smell bad like neatsfoot oil). The stitching holding the buckle fold is based on a belt I bought from a thrift store, although I don't know how they hid the knots (I tucked the ends back into the needle and pulled it through the fold). The bells are from Michaels. In order to not chafe the costume, instead of being fixed with curled brass pins the classic way, the bells are tied on through pairs of small holes with some leftover hemp cord that I had hand-waxed with a block of beeswax when making my small bowcase for Plataea 2022.

Archery set

For Mom's birthday this year I'd long planned to make a belt and quiver to go with the bow I bought her two years ago.  The Seven Meadows child bow is a scaled-down version of their Scythian style, with no siyahs, but Mom asked for the equipment to be something she could wear to Renaissance fairs.  Because she's half-Bohemian, I decided to try to model it after that which was used by Bohemian archers.

Unfortunately, at least in the English-speaking world, information on something as specific as Renaissance-era Bohemian archery equipment is very difficult to come by.  What little I was able to find seemed to indicate that their stuff resembled Eastern European and Turkic gear, so in the end I modeled it after Ottoman Turkish examples, with the modification of using Western European belt parts (a D-shaped buckle attached by a plate and a chape).

This was the first time I'd stitched fabric over leather.  I cut the fabric slightly larger than the bowcase and quiver, cut the edges of the fabric into tabs, folded the tabs under, glued them with Fabri-Tac and then stitched them with linen cord.  The result is very rough-looking.  I will have to put further study into how this should have been done historically.  One thing I've already noticed is that the originals appear to have had fabric with designs woven or embroidered for the case and quiver instead of taking fabric that was woven by the yard with designs already added and cutting it to shape, as I did here.

This was also the first time I beveled and burnished the belt edges and pasted the back.  Burnishing tutorials often recommend using a combination of gum tragacanth, glycerin and/or saddle soap, beeswax, etc.  To keep things simple, I used TandyPro Burnishing Solution, which is intended to be all-in-one, but I unfortunately found that it dries very stiff.

The chape is by Lord of Battles, but since we settled on a wider belt than a matching buckle is available for, I used a 1-1/2" heel bar buckle from Buckleguy and made a matching plate from a wide brass strip, etched with ferric chloride.  In order to allow the belt to be worn with the case or quiver, they have attached buckles and straps which go through slots cut in the belt.  The buckles are the same type as the belt buckle, in a smaller size.  The two knotted leather bands used to stabilize the quiver will eventually be trimmed down; they can even be removed entirely.

The conchos are also by Lord of Battles.  They're very thin and have to be attached with 1/8-inch rivets.  To try to keep them from collapsing, I put several brass washers under each one.  I then trimmed the rivets to the most exact length I could, and peened them over washers, hammering the peen from all angles to give it a smooth dome and minimize chafing on clothing.  To keep the domed rivet heads from being flattened, I set them in a small round pit drilled into a 1/4-inch steel bar.  This unfortunately meant that in the process of rounding the peens, the conchos came into contact with the bar, and some of them are a bit flattened in places as a result.  The final step will be to make some field arrows (she has declined any offer of blunt SCA-style combat arrows).

Fancy fancy knife

A "spare parts" project. I've had a kit-built Scottish dirk hanging around my house for the last 16 years or so.  I was never very satisfied with it, and a few years ago, after I deciding I wanted to add a sax (not the musical kind) to my collection, I settled on using the dirk blade rather than spending more money on a new one.

This is largely a fantasy knife, although its pommel is based loosely on the Nijmegen sax.  The hilt is inspired by the Thorvaldr's Sax by Matthew Berry and one created by Petr Florianek.  It has a mahogany grip and holly spacers finished with linseed oil.  Admittedly, the mahogany is wrong for something meant to look Northern or Western European, but it's what I had on-hand; same with the yellow brass (I believe ancient brasses were more reddish).

Since I didn't have confidence in my ability to replicate the same carving in mirror four times, I instead gave it four different animals, a horse, wolf, hart and boar.  The lower two brass plates were sand-cast knife guards, while the upper two are fabricated from bar stock.

The pommel cap is fabricated from Crazy Crow stock, which seems to have a lower zinc content and grinds into an almost floury powder.  I etched it with a bird of prey using ferric chloride.  The top end of the tang is round and threaded; historical saxes would have rectangular ones that the hilt parts fitted tightly to.  The pommel is prevented from rotating by a pair of long escutcheon pins that extend through both plates and into the grip.  I ground a pair of pits into the bottom of the pommel cap to make space for the pin heads, then silver-soldered the cap onto the upper plate.  The pommel button is a ground-down steel nut.  The hilt is assembled with pitch glue.

The sheath is 7/8-ounce veg tan, stitched with heavy linen cord, stained with walnut dye, and finished with neatsfoot oil and beeswax.  The dragon is sort of a mix of Migration-period designs (with teeth cribbed directly from the Sutton Hoo shield ornament) with those painted by Professor Tolkien.  At the top of the sheath is a heart and flower taken from northern German folk art, translated into knotwork.

I'm delighted with how the homemade walnut dye worked with this project.  Even after filtering, it contains fine sediments which settle into the tooling crevices, making it a natural version of a commercial leather antique gel.   However, if I were using it on an un-tooled surface, I would want to use several applications to produce a darker stain, as the smooth leather here isn't a whole lot darker than it would be with just oil and wax.

I'm less delighted with the suspension tabs; specifically, setting the pins with a small hammer and anvil resulted in the tabs becoming badly dinged-up.  I'm not sure whether I should try re-polishing them.

Once all the projects for Plataea 2022 are done, I might add a belt and companion knife to go with this one.

Biker cap

 

Yesterday I finished one more small leather cap.  This one is basically the same as the one I made in 2019, with some largely aesthetic differences.

The crown and band aren't factory scrap this time, but the remnants of a Mirrabella lambskin I bought some years ago.  Although the one I bought was officially some shade of brown, it looks almost black in most lighting, though it may fade with exposure to sunlight.  I matched it with a black chin cord and artificial sinew stitching and a visor made from the same almost-black oiltan as I used on the last one.  The lambskin is thinner than the unidentified factory scrap, so the cap weighs less.  Also, despite having a wider crown, it crushes down better, giving it a casual look when worn.

Fitting is the only fussy part.  I tried to size the band to be just large enough to fit my oversized head, excessive hair, and a polarfleece sweatband lining.  Unfortunately, this resulted in it being a little too big for the crown, forcing me to pleat as I went and causing unsightly crimping in a few spots.

The band is made of medium-weight two-inch cotton webbing.  The crown is lined with scrap twill, probably cotton.  The buckle is chromed steel.  Though the buttons also look like steel, I later discovered that they won't stick to a magnet, so they're probably pot metal, which raises the possibility that their shanks may break more easily with use.  Otherwise, construction is exactly the same as the last one.

Solingen mini-hunter

This is a replica of one of Jimmy Bagdasarian's early pocketknives, which he assembled in the summer of 1980 and carried through middle school before giving to classmate Lauren Thomas.  It's made from a vintage Solingen blade I bought from Crazy Crow Trading Post.  As such, it's loosely styled after a hunting knife that would've been made in the 1970s, and features some finishing choices that I've moved away from since I started this hobby.

The grip is American walnut with Formby's varnish.  It has a squashed 3/8" compression ring for a ferrule and the tang is secured with a ground-down hex nut (I set aside the nut that's supplied with the blade, and will probably give it away eventually).  The guard and buttcap are fabricated from 14-gauge brass.

Its sheath is undyed and unfinished veg-tan, stitched with dental floss.  It'd be prudent to at least give it some leather conditioner at a later date; however, I wanted to leave it "natural" for at least the first published photos.  Without a water-repellent conditioner or finish, it could also be given some decorative tooling.

Experimenting with cupric acetate

Many if not most leatherworkers know that a solution of ferric acetate, aka vinegaroon, will turn vegetable-tanned leather dark grey or black.  Thus, while it's not actually a dye in the strict sense (the black color is not the result of black pigments in the solution but of a chemical reaction that takes place in the leather) it can be used as one in a limited capacity, and is cheap to produce using just vinegar and steel wool.

Years ago I saw a post on the myArmoury forums mentioning that if you use copper instead of iron, the result is blue.  I bought some copper wool to try this out, and finally got around to it last week.  After soaking the copper in vinegar for a few hours, I wondered if it might not take a long time to create the acetate, since copper is more resistant to corrosion than iron.

It turns out there's a way to speed the process up enormously.  All that's needed is one more common household chemical, et voila.  The video doesn't show it, but the midpoint of the steeping looks amazing, like a breaking wave filmed underwater.

It was at this point that I began to worry.  Was the blue color just a reference to the liquid itself?  What would it do to leather?

The answer is just a little.  The dry leather stained with cupric acetate is on the lower left.  To the right is the same piece after oiling, next to an unstained, un-oiled piece from the same hide.

The color doesn't seem to wash out easily after drying, so there may be some chemical reaction taking place, but the visual effect is modest - and this is after getting the leather sopping wet with the solution.  It probably contributes to the darkness of the oiled brown leather.  What you see in the photo, though, is the test scrap at its darkest - freshly-oiled leather will lighten with time as the oily and dry areas reach equilibrium.

All-purpose leather cap

A side project I made using this PDF pattern.  The shell is made from a leather remnant I got at a craft store, while the visor is some "blacksmith" leather I bought years ago and have never found a use for.  I would've preferred the visor to match the crown in color, but a number of experiments failed to produce a construction and finishing method that wouldn't bleed dye and deform when wet or "crack" when creased.  I wanted this cap to be functionally indestructible.  The blacksmith leather is extremely dark brown, but appears blue-black in the photos due to outdoor light (it was slightly overcast this morning).  For the same reason, it also has a smooth leather lining inside the band with a replaceable cotton sweatband hot-glued into place.

This is what the cap originally looked like.  However, after completing it on Sunday, I decided that the bright gold buttons and lacquered brass buckle were too ostentatious and military-looking.

Luckily, I had some antiqued brass-plated buttons and two of these 1/2-inch buckles from Tandy Leather, and an uncle of mine had given me a bottle of Blacken-It.  I sanded the lacquer off the remaining buckle, darkened it, brushed back the Blacken-It finish with steel wool (it's still darker than it appears in the photo), and put together a new chin cord yesterday.  The cords are just attached with twisted copper wire through a pair of holes on either side, so they can be easily removed and replaced with needlenose pliers/clippers.  The other cord will probably be used for a costume hat project.

While this style is recognized in the West as a Greek fisherman's or sailor's cap, it was common peasant or working-class headwear, especially in Eastern Europe, so it would also work for any early 20th-century costume.  And because it's made of leather, it also counts as a motorcycle cap.  I like to think the functional chin cord would also work better for that purpose than the simple chain that a lot of them feature.

I modified it in two ways:  First, the band is a bit wider than in the pattern, for more headspace, and second, I also made the visor wider from side to side.  This forces the ends to be pulled in more when stitched to the band, which causes the visor to curl down more, protecting the eyes better from the sun.

Targe from Armlann Gàidhealach

Armlann Gàidhealach was formed in Edinburgh at the end of August 1745, in anticipation of the return of Charles Stuart.  Its owners were Màiri MacNeil of Edinburgh and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy of Kilmacduagh, who temporarily moved to Scotland for the venture.  They officially began production three days after Stuart entered the city on September 17.  The factory produced targes, furnished German broadsword and dirk blades in the usual fashion, imported French firearms and swords, and stored and distributed captured government arms.  When government troops reoccupied Edinburgh in January, the workshop was hastily moved to a barn outside the city, where they continued production right up until the disaster at Culloden on April 16 of the following year.

Last year, I was able to obtain a beautifully-preserved targe through my connections with the Hawkins family of Gloucestershire.  They weren't Jacobites, but some were friends with O'Shaughnessy and MacNeil, and bought out the remaining stock to help the venture recoup some of their investment and dispose of/launder the evidence, since the Hawkinses had ties with the shipping industry down in Bristol, and the middle class in their own hometown would purchase swords.

The vast majority of Armlann Gàidhealach's stock has been sold, auctioned off or given away over the centuries, but I hope to put aside enough money next year to get a sword and dirk.

Learning curve

Last year, I found a 1/4-inch maple plank at Lowe's that had a wonderful amount of curl to it.  I didn't want to use it until I had a project that could do it justice.  For me, that typically means knife scales, since they show off a broad section of the thin cut.

I selected some modern "patch" blades because they're inexpensive (being made in Pakistan), stainless (thus low-maintenance), heavy and sturdy, pocket-sized, and have a neat rustic look to them.

The blades themselves required a bit of cleanup.  They came with a machined finish which I polished up as best I could (removing the PAKISTAN etching in the process).  The "Spanish notches" had a very mechanical, straight-sided appearance with a small round hole drilled at the top of the middle notch, giving them a profile like a lollipop; either they were produced with a minimum of effort or the smiths had never seen a Spanish notch in person and didn't know what one should look like.

Additionally, both blades had very sharp, square edges everywhere.  Along with the notches, the shoulders required a bit of rounding, to make them comfortable against the index finger.  The spines, thankfully, were already smoothed enough to not feel ragged against the fingers, although they are still square.  Some but not all of the holes had to be filed to accept the 3/32-inch brass pins.

My Orapik skated over the surface while I was attempting to feel the etching.  I think therefore that the steel is hard enough.  However, my overall impression of quality, and most of all consistency, was rather poor.  I am aware that Pakistan has a poor reputation with regards to blademaking.  These ones are okay for my purpose but I might choose a different project next time, though the small blade does make a fun little project for showcasing various scale materials.

The seller's specifications are as follows:

Overall length:  6-3/4 inches (medium blade), 5-1/2 inches (small)
Blade length:  3-1/2 inches (medium), 2-1/2 inches (small)
Thickness:  5/32 inch (i.e. a hair under 4mm)
Tang holes:  3/32 inch

In fact the medium is the advertised length, but its cutting edge is just under 3 inches and the blade only reaches 3-1/2 inches if you count the ricasso.  The smaller one, meanwhile, is 5-11/16 inches and has a blade of 2-11/16 counting the ricasso with a cutting edge of about 2-1/8 inches.

I didn't do anything special with these in furnishing.

Lesson one:  Use the section of the wood with the tightest curl for the smallest scales, and looser curl for larger ones.

Lesson two:  A knife with an un-flanged slab tang requires scales shaped to fit with extreme precision.  As you can see, the slightest imperfection is obvious in the finished object.  They may also slide a bit when epoxied on.

Lesson three, the real challenge this time around, was the stain.  I originally wanted to obtain or make some "magic maple," a noxious mixture of acid and iron which reacts with the wood when heated to produce a rich brown.  I've seen people speak highly of magic maple for bringing out the depth and contrast of figured wood, but it's costly and using it is complex and dangerous.  Also, since the scales were very thin, I worried that heating them might cause them to warp, as a sample piece did when subjected to a heat gun.

After sitting on my hands about it for months, I recently decided to just go ahead and use the Minwax red mahogany I already had on hand.  This was a very bad idea.

My Minwax was about 12 years old and had become a thick, molasses-like blob that a brush bounced off of.  I just scooped up dabs of it and rubbed it into the surface.  The first application looked great, producing a deep reddish-brown with almost black bands that rippled wonderfully when turned under bright light.  But it never dried.  When I went to apply some oil varnish, the stain wiped right off.

I then put some of the Minwax in a disposable bowl and thinned it down with varnish.  Again it went on beautifully and never dried.  At this point, I realized the Minwax was a lost cause.  I wiped the old finish off with mineral spirits and got a new can.

The new can was "red sedona," and while it was nice and liquidy and seemed to stain the wood, it looked...  well, awful.  Too light, almost pink on top of the pale maple, and opaque.  I hoped a layer of linseed oil would darken it, but no such luck.

Finally I went out and got another can of the red mahogany, sanded the sedona finish off and started over.  Again I followed the directions for the darkest possible finish.  This time the result was acceptable; not fantastic, but not bad-looking either.  I finished it with a couple applications of linseed oil and then tung oil varnish for a semi-gloss finish.

I only wanted the small one, so I gave the larger one to my mom.  The sheaths are made from 4-ounce veg-tan, incised, stitched with imitation sinew, wet-molded and tooled, and finished with Fiebing's dyes and "leather sheen" acrylic, which is a very watery liquid that actually doesn't look as glossy as it appears in the photo.

I wanted to go for an "early American" frontier-esque look on mine, with the understanding that this is not really a historical knife design and so I didn't feel obligated to stick with only documented embellishments.  Thus, the brown dye, whipstitching, spots, and carved wooden beads.  The thin Greek leather cords holding the beads in place are simply looped through the stitch holes and knotted on the other ends of the beads, a method used by several commercially-finished versions of this knife.  I secured the knots and stopped the ends of the cords from sticking apart by slipping each pair of ends through another bead temporarily and applying a drop of epoxy to the knot.  The thicker leather cord braided under the belt loop will allow the knife to be tied to a belt if desired without having to take the belt off first.

I consulted with my mom about how she wanted her knife sheath done; she chose to keep most of the same details I used on mine, but with red dye and no beads or additional belt cord.  She also chose a necklace charm from a craft store to attach near the top; I sewed it on with heavy brown button thread.

Flute carrying bag

For her birthday this year, Mom pointed to a flute bag in the Crazy Crow catalogue and asked for one to fit hers (a concert flute somewhat too long to fit into the one they offer) for carrying to Market Day and other local vaguely Colonial events.

I made this one from a split, chrome-tanned garment buckskin with a dark red, hard-faced cotton twill lining to keep the weight from stretching and bulging the leather, and prevent too many shed leather fibers from getting into the instrument's workings.  The fringe is some large straps of leftover German-tanned buckskin.  The bag is folded and sewn inside-out with the fringe facing inward and the lining on the outside; when it's turned rightside-out, the fringe now sticks out and can be cut into strips.

The drawstring and shoulder strap are more German buckskin, but the small bits connecting the strap to the bag are a much denser, tougher chrome-tanned cowhide.  I handmade two pairs of soldered brass D-rings to attach the shoulder strap to the bag at the correct angle.  The cowhide bands are secured with tin rivets and steel washers; I would've preferred copper, but the hardware store didn't have any that were short enough.

One improvement I'd still like to make would be to line the shoulder strap with a smooth leather so it won't shed fibers into one's clothing.