Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Forgot the Axe

Fall, 1958 — after a rather full summer in the Kodiak bush and a hunting season north of Fairbanks, I up-graded some of my tired old bush gear. Blew a horse-strangling wad (a lot more than I could afford) on one very special item that I'd coveted for years — the finest light axe that I could find. Then I spent hours filing and stoning the edge until it was sharp enough to mow a swath of hair off my leg, made a nice heavy-leather sheath for it, and put it away. (Took it out a few times to admire it, I must confess.)

Then Fish & Game suddenly extended the moose season, and my friend Chuck asked to borrow my axe for a hastily planned hunt with some of his buddies. When he returned it several days later, he gushed and gushed about what a fine axe it was and how grateful he was for the use of it.

While he talked on and on, I slid the sheath off. The edge was gone — completely, totally, irremediably gone. Somebody had obviously been using a boulder for a “chopping block.” The largest gap was wide enough and deep enough to accommodate my finger — far up into the softer steel behind the hard edge. Having an expert welder build the edge back up as hard as the lower lip of a 'dozer blade (if I'd known where to find a welder who was good enough) would've cost more than I had paid for the axe.

He continued to spout-off. I suddenly realized that I could never again look at that axe — or even think about it — without intense, fiery anger that would devastate our friendship. So to put it all behind me, I slid the sheath back up over that mutilated head presented the axe to Chuck as a gift.

Never heard a mumblin' word about it, though Chuck and I remained friends until he died of cancer about forty years later.

Bought another good axe that served me well for several years. Made a sheath out of sections of old fire hose and truck inner tube, and was content. Still am. Completely.

And still cherish fond memories of Chuck — especially our very nice canoe trip and grizzly hunt (with just-caught grayling for supper every evening) the next Spring.

Friends are not expendable.

Well done Sir!

I forget which line of philosophy has it that a man is owned by his possessions, there's a lot of truth in that.

I wonder what kind of friend would destroy a friends property.

And offer no recompense?

oblivity is not a trait i tolerate in friends. acquaintances occasionally, but not for long.

I have found what I considered destroyed others considered used. I have friends that I will not let borrow my things, however, they are wonderful friends. I would not let a object get between us.

I used to carry a razor sharp Buck stockman pocket knife. I would not loan it out, as I had learned much earlier, that most people do not care how they treat another persons knife. When someone asked to borrow it, I would reply that I do not loan my knife, but would be happy to cut what was needed for them. Any other tool that I owned could be borrowed but not my knife. miles