|
 "I
am always asked 'which is your favorite knife?",
and the right answer usually is, the same as a
father of a dozen children would give: "they are
ALL my children and therefore all my favorite!"
But let's face it, sometimes one child stands
above the others who you love just as much, and
just sort of has a different "shine" to them.
Not that they are better or superior, but you
do find your eyes looking over in their direction
when the whole gang run into the dining room at
the same time for Thanksgiving dinner. "Le Rêveur"
is such a "child". It came to me, strangely not
from the blade at first… but front the "ground
up". Ever since I was a child I had a magical
connection to "reindeer", otherwise known as Caribou. 
When I'm off on my trips for charity, or just
to recharge myself with the electricity of the
wilderness, I try to make sure that in the last
weeks of August or early September I'm in the
tundra of Northern Canada to watch the "rutting"
of the Caribou. It is at this time that the bulls
are high in steroid hormones like our own testosterone
so they can fight each other for the "hand" of
a fine "lady". Most fights between bulls are violent,
and many bulls are seriously injured or killed
during the rut. To watch this "mating war"
makes one understand why I, for example have gotten
into more than few "bar fights" over
a beautiful waitress!
The
main reason I love to go out to this specific
spot is to meet my friend who lives among the
Caribou. Little is known about him, expect that
he has lived there for over forty years, and came
originally from the Pyrenees. No one knew his
real name, he was always known simply as "Le
Rêveur", or "The Dreamer".
He
was called this since he always dreamed of a day when his beloved
Barren Ground Caribou, and all the endangered animals of this
region, could live in peace and harmony without the horrors of
man's irresponsibility and greed. Living off the land, hunting
(mostly birds), and fishing, Le Rêveur knew better than most the
delicate fine-balance between man and nature, and how to walk that
special tightrope between survival and irresponsibility. He almost
single-handedly shamed the oil company's to re-route their
pipelines and make special ramps for the Caribou migration, and to
keep the "calving" process from being disrupted. He
worked with many of the responsible hunters and frog-marched the
government into enacting stricter laws for poachers, and I have
personally seen him protect many injured or exhausted bulls who
lost a "rut" with his own life from being killed by
waiting wolves and bears! However, in turn, I've seen him bring
freshly caught salmon to the same bears when they too were too
weak to hunt! Because of him, Alaska's great wildlife have also
become increasingly treasured as a natural wonder of state,
national, and international importance.
And
that is why I was so shocked to find out last
year that he had left us. No one knows if he died
of natural causes, or got too close to an angry
poacher or greedy oil man. Suffice it to say,
the Caribou's grand hero was no more. An Indian
friend of mine from up there told me the news
as we drove to see the Caribou at his favorite
spot. He gave me two treasures to remember Le
Rêveur. One was the most magnificent Bull antler
fall, and the other, was a piece of wood from
Le Rêveur's shack, that he had lived in for almost
half a century. Pieces of the shack were dismantled,
and given to those who loved and respected and
supported him. It was at that moment that I realized
I had to make a special knife in his honor… to
his spirit and to that of these magnificent animals.
I had the piece of oak from his wilderness home,
and the most incredible Barren Ground horn… and
working from the ground up, "Le Rêveur"
was created. That day in the tundra my Indian
friend pointed out a bear, a salmon in his mouth,
taking it home to his den. He told me this was
the very bear that Le Rêveur had nurtured back
to health. With that image etched in my mind,
I also engaged the best scrimshaw artist in America
to recreate a drawing of that moment. To me, to
create a special knife, "cradled" forever
by the horn of the spirit Le Rêveur so loved,
held together by a piece of wood from the home
that kept him warm on those freezing tundra nights
just seemed the perfect remembrance. I guess what
moves me the most was that Le Rêveur lived his
dream. Every day his life had meaning. His heart
was full, his soul filled with satisfaction. Many
thought him a crazy mountain man. I see him as
one of the luckiest people on Earth".
|
