For field dressing deer, I prefer the Wyoming Knife.
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Replaceable blades, but I just resharpen them using a DTM sharpener.
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Wyoming knife? Is that the one with a blade like a parrot's beak? I have a funny story about one of those.
I was hunting with a very nicely made, authentic 50 caliber flint lock long rifle, all dressed up pre-rev war except for an orange vest and toque. Opening day came and went without any luck, and I spent the night at Mom and Dad's and forgot my neck knife hanging over a chair back, my big folder fell out of my breeches onto a rug almost under the bed and I didn't notice it in the pre-dawn darkness as I got dressed and ready. So...fast forward to 9am and a little forky buck come by with a tiny hitch in his get-a-long. Turns out his dew claws with snicked off one hind foot with a shotgun slug. I shot the buck and accidentally busted his shoulders and spine. I climbed outa my tree and he was dead when I got to him.
Ah, perfect, reached for my hand forged neck knife, not there. Almost absent mindedly, I reached for the big folder in my pocket, not there. Because I used my neck knife as my patch knife, I didn't have one in my bag. Well shucks, not what am I gonna do. I decided to remove the flint from my lock and at least slit the belly and pull out as much as I could before starting the long drag back to the road. I at least had a hand forged turn screw in my bag when I here a kid's voice from across the fence line yell to me, "Hey mister." Ah ha, perhaps salvation. I walked over and this youngster, of about 13/14, asks me what I shot my deer with because he saw the cloud of black powder smoke and could actually smell the stin.....er ah, aroma, way over in his woods. I proudly showed him my Jerry Lauter's long rifle. He asked what I shot and I said well come on over and see. As we walked back I asked if he had ever seen a deer field dressed and he said no, neither he or his Dad had ever gotten a deer. I said, "Would you like to watch me dress my buck with your knife?" Clever sort aren't I? Kid says sure! "Dad just bought me a knife since I graduated hunter safety and can hunt alone." Lo and behold he pulls out a shiny, virginal, Wyoming knife. I field dress the buck, grimacing the whole time. I would never wish one of those contraptions on my worst enemy. Well yeah, maybe I would, but I would rather have had my muskrat skinner, or my Legitimus Collins machete than that Wyoming knife. I think Wyoming as State is frankly embarrassed. It was marginally better than my desperate plan of using my flint because it did have the finger holes to hang on to the bloody, slippery, little widget.
Ah yes, the Wyoming knife, a fond memory, and the kid never knew that the Simon Kenton wannabee he met in the marsh that day didn't even have a durned knife on him.
I'll say this though, I have never, ever, ever been caught without at least two blades in the woods again!