Boaring...

César, Tainar and his sword, the author, Ivandro

Last weekend I had went boar hunting for the first time in Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, near the city of Bom Jesus.

It all started during a business lunch on Friday when we were having small talk and César mentioned that he was going boar hunting that night and the next day. Without any shame I volunteered to take part on the expedition, and pretty soon we had all arranged.

At 6:30 PM Ivandro and Gordo picked me up at the hotel, then we drove to César and finished loading the gear, which besides a couple 12 gauge shotguns and 308 rifles included rolled mattresses and a lot of blankets, as Brazil was facing record low temperatures.

After about two and half hours drive in tortuous single land roads we came to the 2,600 acres estância that we would hunt on, and immediately met the rest of the group, Kid and his son Tainar, and their friend Gordinho, and the first order was to uncorck some good wine, make some coppa and salami sandwiches, and of course start an almost endless exchange of tall tales and lie, which is rather typical of any gathering of hunters or fishermen.

Around 11:30 PM we went out for the first hunt, spotlighting for boar in two different trucks. The team developed a good technic: a heavy wool blanket is placed on the top of the truck cabin and secured by both back doors, and a shotgun or rifle can be safely placed on top. One spotter and a shooter travel on the bed.

When we left the temperature had dropped to just above freezing, and not fifty yards from the ranch house we saw he first animal, a graxain, which is a South American cousin of the fox that pretty much ignored our presence. Either graxains are not hunted or a very stupid.

Within the next several minutes or one mile we saw a couple lebrões (European hare) and an enormous Coati-mundi. Again, we left them untouched and continued our search for the invasive and illusion boars.

After wadding through a small river where some capybaras made their home, we came across a herd of steers that were looking for protection against the cold wind. We negotiated passage and left them behind. 

At the end of our eight mile drive we came to the edges of a large swamp, and very soon located a couple of the small veado catingueiro, which is similar to, but smaller than a brocket deer. We observed one of the animals for several minutes before it decided to bid us good night and look for more private bedding grounds.

When we started back he temperature dropped to just below freezing and we made to our galpão without much to talk about. After some more wine to warm up a bit we prepared our beds and bunked in completely dressed. The wind and total lack of insulation and heating (the lone fireplace was far away) forced us to use the heavy wool blankets to cover us from feet to head.

Saturday morning we had breakfast and had the unpleasant surprise of finding Kid's pick-up truck with three flat tires, both on the driver's side plus the spare, a reminder of some of the large potholes we found the previous night. This changed plans a bit, as we had to release the hounds by the ranch house and Tainar and Gordino would walk them to the swamps where we believed the boars were hiding, and it was a long, long walk.

The younger boys led the pack of hounds throughout several swamp patches over four or five hours, while we older, and in my case fatter, gentlemen surrounded the swamp. While walking around we flushed a couple perdiz, saw some marrecas (South American teals), and admired a very large carcará hawk. Later on while I walked he edges of a swamp I first hear the unmistakable pit-pit-pit of the narceja or aguaterro, the South American cousin of our dear woodcock.

Later in the morning while crossing a part of the swamp to meet some of the guys I heard the cryptic song of the siriema, a long legged snake eating bird, that enjoys running more than flying, and could be compared to the African secretary bird.

We stopped hunting around noon when it was already warm enough not to require a jacket anymore. We gathered the dogs, but could never take a good photo with the ten all together.

Fixing the tire was a hole different story and I will not bother you with it, and on our way home we stopped at a local restaurant and enjoyed a large fresh trout lunch. 

Although we did not see any boars during this hunt I was not bored at all. I had not hunted since my latest quail hunt in Alabama, back in March, and I had not seen so much animal diversity in Brasil in a long time.

I am sure that this was the first of many hunts that I will enjoy with my new friends, and saw some very large mounted hogs that are testimony to their presence in the region.

As a final note, after getting back to my hotel in Caxias do Sul I had a long hot shower, ordered some chicken and rice soup, and enjoyed a warm cozy bed for a very comfortable night.

From Fire & Steel

My creation with the Master at the forge

My wife asked which gift I wanted for father's day, and I said that I did not want anything, but while surfing the web I found something that I could carry with me for the rest of my life: a two-day knife making course!

The course was offered by Tillers International (www.tillersinternational.org) an organization that aims "To preserve, study and exchange low-capital technologies that increase the sustainability and productivity of people in rural communities," and the instructor was Tim Carr of Black Bear Forge (www.blackbearforgemi.com), a master blacksmith and bladesmith that has endless patience, skill and good humor, and that appears to be as strong as a black bear.

So, on Saturday, June 29^th, I woke up at 4:00 AM to drive from Traverse City to Scotts, MI, which ironically is not more than five or six miles from my previous place of work.

Around 9:00 AM the seven or eight “students” watched the teacher demonstrate how to forge a blade from a strip of 5160 steel that used to be a suspension coil spring. Gently bringing the steel to a nice dull red on the coal forge Tim started to shape the little bar into a small and handsome blade, and when a master is at work, everything looks simple.

Shortly after we lighted our own forges, got our own pieces of steel, and started heating them to what looked like a dull red, placed the piece on top of an anvil and started pounding with the heavy forging hammers.

Immediately I remembered a story that Dr. Alexandre, a good friend from my hometown told me several years ago: Dr. Alexandre was at a bar when a samba group came to play, and he asked one of the members to teach him how to play the tambourine. The guy handled him the instrument and showed him the basic movements and after ten minutes he was able to follow the others. Then Dr. Alexandre asked if that was all and the musician answered that “This is all, plus thirty years of dew forming on your back.”

Just like any other activity it takes practice to make perfection, and I took quite some time to shape a blade that was passable, but less than perfect. Some of the other students actually forged two blades in the same amount of time, but as pounding at hot steel is a lot more demanding than pounding on a keyboard, I decided to play safe.

After forging we normalized the blade for three times and let it cool while we had lunch at the main house. Then we went to the belt grinders and carefully corrected the shape and cleaned the blade, and after that we drilled the handles and spent a LOT OF TIME polishing the blade by hand to get it ready for heat treatment. First heat it up in the forge to a good red with the edge up, then quench it in vegetable oil with the edge down. And then we polished by hand again until we had bright steel so we could watch the colors change during the tempering operation, which was done with a propane torch.

By this time it was almost 5:00 PM, and it was time to quit, as unlike my blade we were not made of steel. I called my good friend and hunting partner Greg Anderson and was cordially invited to join them for dinner at their home. Greg barbecued some excellent pork that was served with pasta salad and a zesty sauce on the side. There was also a delicious catfish. While Greg cooked I enjoyed some great conversation with his wife Linda and explored the contents and character of a bottle of Buffalo Trace.

Greg and Linda also invited me to spend the night, and I slept like the proverbial child. Next morning I said good-bye and went “back to school.”

Following my fight with the Buffalo, which apparently ended on a tie, it was time for more cleaning and polishing, and then it was time to select material for the handles (as 4^th of July was just around the corner, I selected a laminated wood that had red, white and blue in it), cut to shape, drill and epoxy them to the knife tang. We used “Loveless” brass screws to hold the scales in place and also to provide some good looks.

After some 45 minutes for the epoxy to cure it was time to go back to the belt grinders to shape the handles, and then more hand polishing, this time for the handle.

The final operations were buffing the handle, and forming the edge with a 200-grit belt and final sharpening with a 600-grit one, and I immediately went looking for something to test my knife on. For the lack of better quarry, like a whitetail deer to skin and butcher of a good Brazilian style barbecue to slice and dice, I was content to shave the hair from a portion of my left arm in one swift motion.

Following Tim’s advise I made a newspaper sheet, less to protect the knife than to protect other surfaces and objects from getting cut by it.

I learned a lot during those two days. My knife is not perfect, but it is very functional. I was able to maintain a certain proportion and balance between blade and handle shapes and sizes, and while it is a bit on the heavy side, it is very robust and quite sharp.

I also learned to respect a lot more the work done by custom knife makers and other artisan. It takes a lot of time not only to make a knife, but also to get good enough to be able to make an attractive and flawless one. I am not sure I would ever make a living making and selling knives, but I really plan to further explore this activity as a hobby.

The first serious use I put my knife to, was cutting some hard salami into thin slices to prepare my Sunday dinner, as I was too tired to go out. Right now my knife is resting on my knife chest along over one hundred twenty of its relatives, where it will rest until hunting season, when I expect to be able to proof it on gutting, skinning and butchering the whitetail deer of my dreams!