No such thing as a Bowie knife

Here's a "Bowie." It is huge and bears the clip point and discrete quillion of what is supposed to be Jim Bowie's fighter, although some would argue the true Bowie had a symmetrical quillion.

This one has an 8.5-inch blade and weighs a hair under 1.5 pounds. It has served well for decades, particularly as a knife plus hatchet-substitute on long wilderness canoe trips where trimming weight was crucial. I never met the craftsman who fashioned it from a truck spring and a fine piece of burled walnut, and that is my loss.

Unfortunately for neat taxonomy, this Bowie varies in every important aspect from a number of other designs which claim -- with equal historical evidence -- to be the one true Bowie as made for Colonel Jim by blacksmith Jesse Clifft. (TBC)

The Wisdom of the Game Warden

The Iowa DNR sometimes has its heart in the right place. It often has its head in the dark and malodorous wrong one.

There is some logic to not feeding wild animals, but I object to imprisoning barefoot boy with cheek of tan for the heinous crime of fishing with an angleworm.

Kiwi libertarians' tax protest

I've mentioned the New Zealand libertarians before, and I'll do it again. An active bunch. They seem to be in the midst of a productive tax protest discussion, and it can't hurt a thing to drop in and say "hi" to them.

If anything ought to be globalized, it's liberty.

After a certain point, one snow picture looks pretty much like another, but as a matter of record here is the Transient Officers Quarters structure, which also houses the Base Maintenance and Administration detachments, at Camp J. The scene was recorded on February 9, 2010 just as the most recent 6-8 inch snowfall ended.

Some of the natural drifts approach six feet. My crack meteorology squad measures an average depth on the flat of about 36 inches. Allowing for compaction and two days of slight melting, I estimate total local snowfall for the season well north of four feet. And this allows nothing for the two layers of ice, totaling perhaps an inch, sandwiched between the snow-event strata.

Please note the calm and measured tone of this report. I have not babbled. I have not sobbed. I have not even said (eff-word) winter. I consider this a major victory over self.