Tragic events

We lost Skunkie.

I'm a very straightforward, no nonsense type of guy when it comes to critters around here, but this really got to me. We all loved Skunkie, Georgie especially. He cradled Skunkie in his hands for tours around the yard, sat him on his chest to bask in the springtime sun and made sure the feed tray he made for the Banty Shanty stayed full around the clock. While watching Georgie perch his chicks on the platform of his playground, I informed him that one of the older chickens had hopped up to peck at the banties' feed tray; Georgie scooped up Skunkie, Wire and Twinkle Think before hustling over to shoo the big chicken away. Somewhere in melee, Georgie tripped. Make the connection. The hard part for me, as a parent, is that I set him up; both in the immediate situation that led to the accident, and the overall situation that opened the risk for this type of thing in the first place. Skunkie made it through the night, I left him at 1am after nursing him for hours with a little eye dropper. He finally died this morning, but not before Georgie came down before anyone else in the house to check on him. I'm not one to cry over the loss of a little bird, but it hurt me deeply to see my innocent, little son swallow his first taste of real sorrow, not sadness over a balloon that flew away, but real sorrow (at least as much as can be felt by a 4-year-old). It also meant he was growing up, a painful reminder that his childhood is fleeting, rapidly. Tragic events.

I know it's a sad story. I promise to lighten up next time.

In other news I've been splitting logs into palings (thin wood strips) for making a fence. You start with the straightest trunk section you can find, then split it open lengthwise with a series of wedges.. How about I just show you?

*I've been monkeying around for at least 30 minutes trying to get these pictures in the right order and I've caught myself falling asleep in the chair and mashing random buttons a handful of times. Too tired to care anymore.

If you're going to be pounding a froe all day, you'll need to start with a handmade mallet.

The sapwood (outer growth rings) isn't as tough, so I remove some of it.

Now you pound the froe into the long wedge of wood and get crackin'.

The panels will look something like this. Just a dry run.

I'm using the two logs in the pile as a makeshift riving brake, which traditionally would have been a forked branch or trunk section up off the ground. If the split begins to "walk out" to one side, you simply pull down on the fatter side, using the brake. The stressed fibers of the fat side are more likely to break under the strain, causing the split to pull back toward the center.

Rinse, lather and repeat a few hundred times and you're on your way.

I'd like to show a few more steps with the froe in the future. The coolest thing about working on this, is that I've never heard of any other place / dude / company that does this in the entire country. I'm sure they're out there, but I have no idea where.

Until then,

F.W.