Skin Wins: True or Faux; a comparison.

In this week’s blog we’ll take a look at some of the pros and cons of real skin and faux skin; their ecological impacts and how they are to work with.

Before we sink our teeth in to the topic properly,  let’s take a quick look at what I mean by real and faux and why I’m writing this blog.

My crafting hobby and animistic living has brought me plenty of opportunities to use both fresh skins, vintage skins, modern faux and vintage faux. I prefer the former two, but, as I believe in reusing materials where possible it’s always good to look at all options available and so base your future choice on the throwaways of the past.

Oiling vintage ostrich skin to reinvigorate it.

Real skin is just that, the skin of a living or once living animal. This could be fresh off the body of a roadkill fox, or the hide of a hunted animal,  or even centuries old rawhide. More often than not the materials I’m referring to here are ‘leathers’. That is to say they are skin that has undergone a cleansing, preservation and working stage.  Usually these are tanned using either alum or tannin solution. Historically, in commercial, and in some cheap leather today, there has been some use of arsenic and other heavy metals.

Faux on the other hand is pretty much plastic. Often vinyls or polyesters, these materials are designed to look like their animal counterparts without necessarily imitating them in other ways. Sometimes these are synthetic compounds layered on to linen or cotton for strength and pliability and so contain some organic fibre.

In the last decade or so there have been some apparently brilliant innovations in terms of making ‘leathers’ from things like mushrooms (similar to the bracket fungi cloth once favoured by some parts of Japan), cactus, pineapples, apples and algae cultures. I have no real experience of these, but, as I understand it they are replicating the fibrous layers of animal skin and so will likely align more closely with the real skin parts of this blog.

As I’ve already said above, I’m a fan of reused things and as such when a source of hide, faux or real, is vintage or at least second hand then it’s fair game for reuse and it’s latent energy and water costs are diminished by virtue of reuse. In short the means of production become a little less concerning if you’re saving something from the bin or landfill.

Having said that we will look in brief at the processes that make both faux and real. Obviously, fresh off the animal doesn’t count as reuse but the localised, home processing need not be anywhere near as toxic or resource intensive as commercial stuff often is. I’m not an advocate of fur or skin taken from animals that are killed purely for their hide and that leaves the rest as waste. We are in a world so full of fabrics and preloved skins that it would seem an unnecessary cruelty to simply extinguish life just for skin and or profit.

Rabbit skin from a road kill bunny.

The basic processes required for turning skin into leather are skinning, scraping (defleshing), preserving, washing, drying and stretching/softening and finishing. There’s obviously water use in there, often a detergent when commercially processed, and a mix of chemicals used in both the preservation and finishing stages.

Preservation often uses a vegetable based tannin mixture, or an alum salt solution. Neither of these are great for water life if introduced to water ways in any potency, however, tannins are a naturally occurring compound and so will be broken down in time.

Finishing can include the application of dyes, waxes, oils and conditioners to create the desired end look. Home processed skins often also skip the tannins and fats, like egg yolk or brains, followed by smoking to preserve the skins.

Faux skin or fur starts it’s processing as crude oil extraction from which is refined and processed in various polymers from which plastic is made. This plastic is then heated and shaped, coloured and manipulated with various chemical additives and processes until it becomes either a form that can be woven, or a gloop that can be pressed on to a fabric layer from where it can be stamped, coloured, printed on and so forth.

Plastic was originally designed to last, be moldable and be durable while also being cheap to produce, but sadly this is also the main downfall of it as a material. It became the easy option and then with oil being subsidised globally it became the disposable option. Sadly disposable fast fashion has seen this lead to lower quality plastics that don’t age well and lead to ecological nightmares like microplastics.

Sustainability is a double edged sword when used to judge the vintage item and the processed item…. especially when it’s paired with what should happen with resources and what happens in actuality. People don’t always do what they should after all.

What do I mean by that? Well, you’ve likely heard of the ‘buy once’ movement… plastic done right should fit that ethic, but plastic isn’t done with that intention – it’s designed to be disposable and destined to end up in landfill. Especially as clothes and bags etc are designed to be thrown away rather than be repaired once they’re worn a few times or no longer in vogue.

Leather, of all persuasions, is often destined for the same landfill fate, however, it *could* and indeed should be returned to the earth and composted. In time it would break down fully in to soil. Sadly the plastic can take hundreds or thousands of years to fully break down; it is far more likely to degrade in to toxic components or carcinogenic micro plastic that infiltrate living creatures, ourselves included.

In theory, such seemingly long lasting faux material should seem ideal for upcycling and reuse. In truth many start to degrade or become brittle after a decade or so as Ultra Violet radiation begins to cut polymer chains. The plastic will loiter for awfully long times after it has lost it’s desirable properties.

Faux crocodile bag and upcycled result.

This faux crocodile skin has started to become weaker and brittle after around 40+years. There is nothing I can do to reinvigorate or refresh it’s condition and the off cuts from my crafting have gone to landfill. Landfill contributes to climate change, resource waste and produces harmful leachate as well as swallowing up huge chunks of land and habitat.

Whereas this 1940s crocodile skin has been refreshed, restored somewhat, and is much stronger than it was when it came in to my possession. It had begun to dry and degrade but because of the interlocking fibrous layers of skin being.washed, worked and oiled, it is once again strong.

Vintage crocodile skin.

That’s a short overview of the production processes, impacts and limitations of faux and real skin. There’s also another aspect I see as an animist; honour and respect.

It’s hard to honour something that is fully synthetic – nothing of the lives that passed, millions of years ago, to create fossil fuels, and ergo plastic, remains in a recognisable form.

This is very much the opposite to real skin. You may honour and respect an animal whom you eat or skin from roadkill. You become part of it’s journey onwards and your knife marks join in the discernable fibres and colouring of each hide.

Even with upcycled leather and skins there are features that show it has come from something alive. That animal might have met a brutal end in the name of fashion, or it’s skin might be used alongside it’s meat but you can tell that it lived.

Each skin is as unique as the animal it came from. Each type of skin can be identified down to the species by the features it shows.

Each skin reworked, upcycled and crafted is a skin given a bit more life, more recognition, more honour and, effectively, another payout for the sacrifice of a life.

It is possible in an animist’s world to ask permission to use and even forgiveness for those of our species that saw the demise of the original wearer of said skin. Or more commonly for me, to connect and ask for guidance and wisdom from an animal ally.

Scrap leather panel being readied for use.

So in summary I would always seek to choose real skin for crafting as it can honour an animal’s life, is overall a part of the active carbon cycle, can be reinvigorated and restored, and, can usually be composted once it fails (or it’s offcuts). It’s also very pleasing to work – there’s something ancestral about it.

However, if a faux material comes my way and it isn’t too brittle or degraded then it still deserves reuse to save it from landfill, and us from plastic pollution.

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Bluebells: telling the difference between native and not.

Hyacinthoides non-scripta

Bluebells, with their characteristics scent and nodding blooms are almost synonymous with British woods in April and May…. but in many places the blue bell in front of you might be an ‘over the garden wall’ invader.

British soil is thought to be home to around half of the world’s population of Common Bluebell and it’s spawned some brilliant folklore and historical uses.

The sticky gummy sap has been used since at least the Stone age as a glue for fletching arrows with feathers, then later as a glue for binding books (toxic to some book eating bugs) and even stiffening the ruffs of Tudor aristocrats.

The toxins in the bulb are showing some promise against cancer cells, and historically it has been a kill or cure remedy for leprosy  and snake venom.

Native buds developing colour

Folkloricly speaking, the bluebell has strong associations with the fairies and there’s a few tales of children picking bluebells in the wrong spot of the woods and never being seen again. I suspect this is more a tale shared to prevent the picking of bluebells due to their poisonous nature.

Perhaps wearing a garland of bluebells while trying to tell the story would show if it were a lie, as it is said that no untrue words can be spoken when so adorned.

The bells can also be heard in faery woods, where they ring to call the fey folk to gather… but be warned! If you, as a human, hear the bells ringing you might well be visited by a malicious fairy, possibly bringing your death.

There is of course much more folklore to work through,  but this blog is about the plants themselves, so I must apologise for digressing so.

Hyacinthoides non-scripta, the English/ common/ fairy/ British/ wood bluebell is a charming and dainty plant, yet in true fairy related form it is more than happy to be promiscuous with it’s Spanish cousin. Sadly, though this is leading towards the end of our native bluebell populations.

Natives hang low.

There are two recognised species of bluebells in the UK; the native Hyacinthoides non-scripta and the Spanish Hyacinthoides hispanica.  They however do not act like separate species and may infact be simply distinct populations, naturally separated by landscape until brought in to UK gardens by Victorian horticulturists.

The definition of a species is fraught with conflict,  but at it’s simplest it is  a group of organisms that can reproduce naturally with one another and create fertile offspring. 

Both types of bluebells frequently hybridize and the resultant hybrids  can go on to produce viable seeds with either parent species,  or, other hybrids.

The black seeds of both produce contractile roots before the first frost that pulls the seed down to the correct depth. It takes around 5 years from germination to flowering.

So how do you tell the species apart from each other and from the hybrids? Let’s take a look at the easy differences and the considerations.

Hyacinthoides hispanica

Flower shape –  the flowers of the native bluebell are slender, tubular and much longer than they are wide. The ends of the petals are often slightly fluted outwards but never gratuitously so.

The flowers of the Spanish bluebell are much less tubular,  often as wide as they are long and the petals often bend outwards from about half way down the length.

Hybrids vary but often have a mixed style flower, with wide bells and long petals rather than tubular and dainty flowers.

Flower colour – in Hyacinthoides non-scripta the majority of flowers are a deep blue with little variation over the surface of the petals. The developing buds often look much paler as they grow a bit faster than the pigment is produced.  Occasionally a white form will appear,  but these are rare in purely native populations.

Hyacinthoides hispanica, in comparison, is a colour collector. It’s not unusual to see dark blue, light blue, white, darker pink, pale pink and the mid rib of the petals often varies in shade from the rest of it.

Hybrids can throw up even more colours and variations. A bit of genetic freedom apparently encourages nature’s artistry.

A white Spanish

Leaves – native plants have fine strips of leaves that rarely grow wider than 1.5 – 2cm and tend to be a lush dark green

Spanish plants have much wider leaves 3 – 5cm wide. These are often a paler green than the natives and the midrib often looks paler still. These wider leaves enable more light to be absorbed and so improves the rate of photosynthesis thereby increasing vigour and encouraging the dominance of these plants.

Hybrid plants show a variety of leaf shapes and widths but most tend towards the wider and paler strap like leaves.

Scent – there is a characteristic sweet scent to the native Hyacinthoides non-scripta that is pretty much absent in the hybrid and definitely absent in the Spanish population.

This is one ofnthe great losses that the British countryside could suffer. The loss of such a cloud of rich scent in the late spring woods is a travesty to be avoided.

Stamen colour – stamens are the pollen carrying organs of the floral structure. In native plants the pollen should look a creamy white, while in hispanica plants the pollen will have a green or pale blue tint.

Hybrids can show either cream, white, green or blue pollen depending upon the particular genes they received.

Spanish to the left, native to the right, stamens in the middle of both

Stems – one of the easiest, at a glance methods of judging the likely species is to look at the flowering stems.

Native bluebells have a slender, arching flower stem with all the flowers hanging to one side.

Spanish bluebells have thicker, upright stems with flowers on more than one side.

Hybrids often show a more Spanish stem, but some will present as thinner or slightly curving.

Sturdy Spanish vs bowing British

In some areas studies show that, even in ancient woodland, the majority of bluebells are hybridised, or show some hybridisation. It may be too late to prevent a loss of scented woodland in April and May, but then some studies show a lower rate of fertility in the Spanish incomers

As such there may yet come a resurgence of British bluebell genes and the scents we associate with them, even if there’s a bit of Spanish flair in the wider population.

I must admit that I do have a soft spot for the hybrids and their delicious range of colours and variable natures. Perhaps a bit of flair would be ok, if the scent held true too.

A slender and slightly bowing stemmed, but broad bell flowered, two tonal hybrid.

Throwing Sticks: Hornbeam Hunter.

This would seem to be the year of the Hornbeam for me, they seem to be everywhere I look so far.

Their leaves are fabulous as they unfurl from writhing wood, as are their catkins and later their winged seeds.

I discovered a huge one that had surrendered it vertical status to the late winter winds,  but which was throwing out buds with merry abandon. A few of it’s branches had shattered during the fall as they took the weight and momentum of the large boughs and trunk.  One such branch had come off in a zig zagged shape and just screamed to be made in to something.

Over the years I have seen numerous museum and TV examples of throwing sticks in a range of shapes and styles.  Commonly you’d find heavy ended straight lengths,  ball ended sticks, s shaped lengths and curved sticks (like the boomerangs).

The stick that would be thrown (right)

The basic principle of the stone age, and before, tool was that it could be thrown from a distance away from the target and, upon impact, either kill or stun. When thrown in to a reed bed full of roosting birds, or at those in flight, or distracted rabbits, squirrels and other small game, you’d be more easily able to secure some nourishing meat than without a stick. Over the course of history these sticks often became dual purpose and refined from fallen branches in to aerodynamic devices that double up as clubs (to finish off a stunned creature or end a human on human scrap), and in some cases digging sticks for extracting starch rich tubers.

In the seeing of these simple but often cleverly adapted tools I caught a bit of inspiration and have decided to make a series of these sticks to see what I can learn.

As well as a S shaped stick I plan on making a lead ended club (1800s poacher style), a knobbed stick (similar to a shillelagh,  but more throw friendly), a rounded knobbed club, a heavy ended straight stick and possibly a few of varying curvature too.

This particular blog post deals with an ‘s’ shaped stick. In examples I’ve seen they tend to be closer to uneven ended z shaped, although some are fully curved s shapes.

To make this I took the zigzag length of 8cm diameter  green hornbeam  and, using a knife, took off enough bark and wood to give it a flat top and bottom with a thickness of around 3.5cm.

From there I squared off the remaining barked edges so as to give a piece even in width and depth along the length.

After this it was simply a case of bevelling the edges down so as to leave the sides with a smaller surface (for  greater impact pressure per square inch and ergo greater damage potential.

As I worked I noted the likely impact spots – the ends and the ‘corners’of the zigzag S shape. These I left a touch thicker and sharper – if I ever use this in a real life hunting event I want to give as quick an end as possible. Although I don’t plan on using it in anything living, other than in a survival situation.

I also wanted to moderate how the tool flew when thrown. With one end shorter,  but almost equal in weight,  it will whip round rather than curl, meaning it will keep a straighter flight path for longer.

Added to this I decided that it would be thrown with the right hand holding  the longer end with the elbow of the stick bending towards my shoulder. This would give a directional bias that would see the stick curve towards the left in flight. So, leaving the outside (right) of the middle section thicker, and therefore heavier, meant that the stick would hold straighter for a right handed thrower.

Heavier ends.

A dry, a sand and several coats of oil and the stick was ready to go.

Most historical references suggest a stick as thick as your wrist and between 45cm and 60cm long  to be ideal, but this one comes out heavy because of the choice of wood and so it’s dimensions are a more practical size and a little thinner than anecdotally recommended.

After a few trial throws I set two friends loose with it too. It flew straight and landed on the designed points (ends and corners) for all of us, meaning my grasp of basic physics is obviously pretty good!

I also took it back to the parent tree and.spoke with it about what I had done with it’s wood. It seemed pretty happy with the result, as am I.

Revisiting the parent tree.

Keep an eye out for future sticky adventures if you’ve enjoyed this blog.

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Floral Cordial: Flowering Currant Syrup.

Sweet and curranty

Those who have followed my blog for a while now will know that I am a keen forager with a taste for trying the more unusual or unknown.

Even experienced foragers can miss out on the almost transcendental bounties of the seemingly insubstantial things that are flowers.

They often appear in a flurry and then vanish as soon as they’re noticed, certainly before the foraging basket comes out.

Many of them are indeed insubstantial and are akin to eating small, crisp sheets of tissue with an occasional hit of nectar gracing the tongue.

Then there are some that are tougher than they seem and will hold up to a battering and should be made in to fritters (see this blog on Black Locust flowers).

While the flowering currant is a more substantial flower when taken as a full raceme, they also offer us a good amount of aromatics, meaning that they make a good syrup or cordial too.

A raceme of flowers

Ribes sanguineum, originates in the western States of North America but has found a home in a number of countries across the globe.

Introduced to Britain by David Douglas in the form of seeds sent back from the US in 1826 this plant has been a long valued beauty in early spring. It’s often found as a stalwart of aging council municipal planting schemes, yet, here in the UK, it doesn’t set nearly as much fruit as it’s relatives the black and red currant, unless in particularly favourable conditions.

This isn’t a bad thing here as the fruit are a touch insipid… and can lead to rampant invasion in some areas (it’s classed as a weed in New Zealand for example).

To make the most of fragrant flowers I like to make cordials or wines.

How to:

Here I gathered around 45 racemes from a willing specimen and, as a thank you, I struck 6 or 7 cuttings from it and placed them in the soil of a clearing near by; they root easily and will grow well unless hit by misfortune.

In hindsight I should probably have doubled gentle number of flowers picked as the syrup is only mildly perfumed despite the strong floral scent.

The donor

In well drained, drier soils the flowers can be incredibly pungent, so assess where you’re gathering your flowers from and how strong they are/ how strong you want the final taste to be.

The 45 racemes were popped in the bottom of a lidded pan and covered with 2 litres of piping hot (not quite boiling) water. They were left there, in the lidded pan for around 15 hours. The lid helps trap condensation which migh otherwise carry away the aromatic oils that give the flowers their characteristic scent.

The mixture was then strained of the flowers before being heated to a gentle simmer on the stove top. Then taken off the heat and an equal weight of sugar added to the amount of water (1ml of water weighs 1 gram).

It is possible to make a low sugar version of this using half or even a quarter of the amount of sugar I used, but my way makes a full syrup that should store for a long time, even out of the fridge. Less sugar would mean a shorter shelf life and possibly an accidental wine.

While the liquid reached simmering point I cleaned out four 750ml bottles and dug out a funnel.

Once bottled up it should now last for as long as we need it to and, could be added to more liquid and other flavours to ferment in to something alcoholic.

Let me know if you give this a try, and especially if you do it differently to me

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A beautiful colour in reused Rocks Organic squash bottles.

Renovating Crocodile Skin from the 1940s

The finished article

For years now I have been tinkering with leather craft and, as is my way, I got to wondering at the different textures and properties of the various scraps of leather I found myself using. The variety within bovine leather by animal, breed and even position on the body is mind-blowing.

With my experiments with fish leather and deer skin I caught a fascination bug with this beautiful and useful organ that we all wear to keep our insides in.

As such I keep an eye out for bargain priced items on eBay and auction sites that I might ne inspired by. I’d never intentionally fund the exotic leather trade unless I knew the animal that grew the skin was well cared for and well used in death so that the skin was an unwanted byproduct rather than the reason for it’s demise.

I am going to preface a little here by saying that I am not an expert in restoration of skin, but I am learning. Here I will share some of my learning experience with regards to the revitalising the skin of a beast from 80+ years ago. Future blogs may talk about thing like snake skin, eel skin and ostrich skin – skins popular in ages gone by that we now call vintage.

First things first, let’s meet the bag as was and look at what it took to strip it down and get it ready to work up.

The original item from the 1940s or earlier

If you look at the bag in the image above you’ll notice that the folded and joined edges look tatty and on the verge of splitting and that the fake arms are missing a claw or two. Sometimes this sort of wear comes from a long period of use and sometimes it comes from the tannins used in the processing of the skin.

Anyone who has tanned fresh hides knows that there’s an important washing off step for anything using acidic tannins to tan. If excessive tannins are left on they can eventually start to deteriorate the leather, even if dry. Under inspection, this bag was suffering from both wear and tear and excessive tannins.

Stripping down in to pieces

The first part of the disassembly process, for me, always starts with a brief moment of thanking the bag for what it was in terms of animal and item, what it has been used for and explaining what you’re planning on doing and why. In doing so you speak to it as a being with as full a story as you can know and seek cooperation from the hide. It’ll speak to you more of it’s needs and weak spots this way as you’re enabling yourself to be in mindful space when working with it.

Secondly we look at the stitches and lining. Often the stitches are well hidden and the lining is often a simple material that we may not want to keep.

If you can get access to stitches then start unpicking them with a tool designed for the job, or the sharp tip of a knife.

If you can’t then it’s time to either cut around failing clasps and find a way in that way, explore a failing crease (this can leave smaller pieces to use later though) or to slit through the liner.

In.this situation, the liner was a degraded faux leather that felt both rough and smooth at the same time. I slit through this from the inside to expose the main seams and cut around the clasp as well, setting the strap aside for later use.

In places the skin beside the seams tore, leaving the stitching behind, in others I snipped and cut them out.

The false feet were glued and stitched in place and these took gentle teasing apart. The cotton wool stuffed arms had been made using thin and now brittle strips of hide, sadly these couldn’t be saved and went in the compost a few steps later. The unbroken claws have been kept for a later project.

Once separated in to it’s constituent parts I had the lining (which was discarded), cotton wool and arm strips (that were composted) gummed up claws, a large main panel with glued on card backing, a strap, a clasp (recycled as broken) and two side panels.

The side panels felt different, at first I wasn’t sure they were crocodile skin despite both bearing the right (not matching, so less likely to be stamped) patterning. However, a little research suggest that these may be the softer, and better worked, under belly skin.

The next step was to remove grime, glue and card from all parts I was keeping. The hide and claws were layered in wet tea towels to give them a good soak and hopefully loosen up the glue (likely basic hide glue) so it could be removed.

Stripping out the false feet and starting the soaking process.

Wet cloth rather than immersion was used to prevent the 80+ year old and dry hide from absorbing water too quick through the gaps in the card backing, meaning it was less likely to swell irregularly and then split in engorged weak spots.

After a good 12 hours of soaking the parts were all rubbed clean under running water to remove as much grime and glue as possible. The card was rubbed off the main panel to expose a roughly tanned surface underneath. The connective tissue of the claws had turned to glòopy gelatine and so gave a visceral experience when washing off.

The tea colour of the rinsed off water and the feeling of my tannin rough fingers afterwards was enough to show me that the main panel was still full of unbound tannins that should have been washed off when the hide was originally preserved many decades ago.

Once all parts were rinsed they were left to drip dry in a cool and airy place until fully dry. This took several days but the final result was far less waxy and grimy feeling than it had been.

At this point it is important to check over for newly appeared tears and splits – a couple of the edges had split in this case and this means that the skin wouldn’t be up for much stretching once oiled up, as well as highlighting the areas that need trimming or reinforcing in order to make usable.

Once the hide was cleaned and dried it was time to consider the next steps – I could have used it as it was, but it would be likely to split further and be less resilient to tearing when simply putting a needle through it.

Oil enriched outer skins and freshly oiled inner skin.

I decided to give it a heavy coat of olive oil to see how thirsty it was and to bring out the natural sheen of the scales. I could’ve used a melted hard fat like tallow or lard, but I find these tend to leave more residue and go a little fry up smelly on sunny days when compared to olive oil or hemp oil. Olive oil can go a little waxy on the surface in cols weather mind, so it’s not perfect, but is definitely serviceable.

Leaving it overnight again I could then give an extra coat of oil to the few spots that turned out to have not drank their fill.

The skin took in a lot more of the oil than I anticipated and some of the thinner areas were a bit more saturated than I’d like. Here, with flat skins (unlike crocodile) it’s possible to lay them between two cotton rags/towels and weigh them down with an old heavy book or several wooden boards to press the excess oil out in to the cloths. Generally, I advise applying several lighter coats of oil.

In this case the skin was to be made in to a case for wooden items that wouldn’t suffer from a little oil coming off the interior of the case.

When the summer sun is hot I might tightly wrap the case in an old black cloth and leave it out in the heat to draw any excess oil out if it proves to be a problem.

But, why oil in the first place?

Oil is added to do several things: improve suppleness, add shine, waterproof and to slip between the connective fibres of skin preventing them from snagging up together plus to reduce oxidation decay over time and slow down the action of tannin residues.

After a good wipe down to remove oil still on the surface I might usually stretch any rigid spots out to add in flexibility, but in this case the skin would be more suited to the desired use if a bit stiff, and, I didn’t want to cause any further weakening of already split edges.

At this stage, the Crocodile skin had come up in to a beautiful dark chocolate brown and was ready to use.

For my particular project I had enough material to create a tapering sleeve of crocodile skin from the larger piece and, from the side panels, enough to make the base and top of the cap. The strap would go on to become a cap lanyard and belt, I would add in a collar or two of scrap bovine leather to finish it off.

The final product

With the shape required and with the skin being so rigid I could not simply sew and then turn the case inside out so as to hide the seams as I would with thinner cow leather. As such the stitching would need to be done on the outside using awl, curved needles and messy knots…. but I think it turned out OK and should see many more years of use.

At the time of writing I have some snakeskin beingn rejuvenated… so if I learn any more I’ll post again.

Let me know if you’ve done similar projects and if your technique varied from mine.

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Re-storying: how to remove rust from old knives.

Over a century old and looking rusty

While this post isn’t exactly about crafts or druidry it’s still  relevant to many of us. Permit me a couple of paragraphs to explain why before the ‘how to’ walk through.

Druids, amongst other things,  are often keen lovers of history; often drawing inspiration from accounts of gods and heroes that are millennia old.

For many though we miss the small stories of the items around us while finding ourselves actively drowning in the chosen narratives of the powers that be.

We can challenge the inhumanity of mass production and convenience focused consumerist capitalism  by looking to the everyday items around us that hold artistry in the making and human stories in the using.

The starting point for this blog was the discovery of an old 1915 stamped jack knife that came my way from a late great Uncle. It holds part of their story in my memory and in the restoration and use of this item I see their hands working with mine.

This Jack knife is of a model issued up until the late 1950s (at least) and was probably issued by the army in World War 1. So, understandably, it has accumulated knicks, scratches and rust, but it’s high quality carbon steel and super sturdy and so has a lot of life left in it yet.

It was almost rusted shut at the start of this process buy, should you find yourself in possession of a similar carbon steel item you could follow the simple steps below to restore functionality,  if not always beauty, to your tool.

This technique will work on chisels, auger bits, knives and even larger tools like billhooks.

Before you begin you should check that your handle is unlikely to be affected by a vinegar bath- some bone handles benefit from being coated in vaseline or mineral oil before submerging to offer a little protection.

Bubbles show the vinegar is working it’s magic.

How to:

STEP 1: Pepare. If your item is heavily costed in rust then it’s wise to prepare it with an initial scrub down with a wire brush to remove as much loose material as possible.  If your tool has been previously oiled and it’s still evident then a soak in hot soapy water should help emulsify the oil so that the vinegar bath can work it’s magic.

STEP 2: Container. If at all possible open any folded blades, if not, a longer soak may be required. Once your item is ready select a non-metallic container to house your acid bath. I chose an empty tetrapack of coconut water and cut a hatch, big enough to fit the knife, in one side. A plastic tray will work just as well.

STEP 3: Choose your acid. I suggest using a mixture of cider vinegar and white spirit vinegar at a ratio of 30%:70%…. but spirit vinegar alone will work. Lemon juice is another option but varies in strength and ergo reliability. Pour enough vinegar in to cover the metal item once in the container.

STEP 4: Soak. Heavily rusted items need more soaking than lightly rusted items. Generally, a good starting time is around 10-12 hours – so at least overnight.

STEP 5: Scrub. Using steel wool or a wire brush (and being mindful of where your fingers and any sharp edges might get overly acquainted) scrub as much rust off as you can.

STEP 7: Repeat. If you’ve managed to get as much rust off as you wanted then feel free to go on to the next step. But, if there’s still patches of rust on then soak for another few hours and repeat the scrubbing. If no bubbles have appeared on the metal after being submerged for an hour then your vinegar might need replacing- acids only work until they’re exhausted.

Cleaned up and oiled.

STEP 8: Wash and oil. Your blade may well be pitted but rust free once the process is completed and you may wish to grind a fresh edge or even grind a few of the shallow pits out if they bother you.

If not then simply wash the acid off and dry well. A coat of oil (mineral, vegetable or animal) will protect the metal against future rust, especially if replenished frequently. I used a lubricant oil like WD40 to get in to all the moving parts of a pen knife, but will touch up with any fat if the blades get scuffed up.

Alternative options include salt scrubbing and sodium bicarbonate paste… but I’ve had less easy success with those.

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Leather Fish; Preserving Fish Skin.

Tilapia skin, salmon skin and scrap leather bag

This blog aims to give you gentle encouragement to try your hand at tanning your own fish leather and to guide you through the basic steps.

I’ve been on a learning curve for a few months as far as fish leather is concerned and I want to share a few lessons I’ve learned. 

For many of us, our Ancestors would’ve rejoiced when the salmon and eel migrations filled the nets annually, or, when the shallows were filled with schooling fish coming in to warmer waters to spawn. Furthermore whole cultures emerged based around or supported by rivers, seas and estuaries. Fish would’ve provided, and still do, much needed nutrition and oils to keep populations running well.

Yet, fish doesn’t keep well once it’s dead and so in hot regions it was dried while, in many temperate areas it would’ve been cut and smoked and salted and dried to preserve it. In cases of thick skinned fish the speed at preservation waa achieved would be aided if the skin was removed.

This meant, for populations relying on seasonally migratory fish, like salmon, that there would be a sudden glut of shimmering fish skins. Left around they attract flies and scavengers, let alone smelling unpleasant rather quickly. Part of the human condition is to be both opportunistic and resourceful… so it’s likely that those ancient people would’ve made good use of the skins; tanning them, oiling them and using them to make bags, clothes and covers.

With silver brown shining outfits, rather than drab brown and grey as often portrayed, one can see them looking like glam rock spacemen with flint knives!  Doubtless it was very confusing to megafauna to have predators dressed like disco goers of the 1970s.

Supple salmon skin; back lit, underside and scale side

Most of us rarely have the opportunity to drown in fish these days, what with the industrialisation of our waterways ending many migratory routes prematurely.

But… it’s possible to make the most of the occasional flurry of fish that might come our way. Skin is an organ,  so it’s good to eat nutritionally speaking, but there’s also good reason to try your hand at tanning.

This blog will focus on the basic techniques used in vegetable tanning fish leather. I’d link to the instructional pdf that got me started…. but it seems to not be online anymore.  So you’ll have to make so with my  writing and your own research.

How to get tanning:

Step 1 – buy your fish and decide on your plant based tannin source. Try to buy or catch fish according to your own ethics, or ask your local fishmonger for the otherwise waste skins of fish like salmon, tilapia or any other species you want to experiment with.  Often these skins will be given to you freely … otherwise skin your fish. I find that fingers working under the skin will help it come off in one piece better than using a knife alone.

Step 2 – Once your skin is free from the fish you’ll need to carefully trim off any fins before placing it scale side up on a board. You’ll take a dull knife  (too sharp will cut the skin) and scrape any scales off the skin. If these are left on they can impede the tannin absorption by the skin beneath.

Step 3 – flip your skin over so the flesh side is facing up. Using your knife work slowly and meticulously to remove any fat, flesh or fibres/connective tissue from the skin. Make sure you get the edges cleaned and don’t press down so hard that you tear the skin. Some skins are thicker than others and will take a rougher hand to get it scraped clean.

A selection of scaled and scraped skins ready to tan

Step 4 – wash your skin off in slightly soapy cold to like warm water. Too hot will damage the skin. Work the skin in the water for a few minutes each to remove any fats or scales still on the surface. Rinse off each skin in clean water and set aside.

Step 5 – make a cuppa. While you’re at it pour the rest of the water over around 8 – 12 teabags to a litre in a large jug or jar. Tea (Camellia sinensis) is ideal for use in the learning process and it’s easy to move on to willow or Oak bark as a tanning solution after that.

The tea needs to steep until cool and dark. Using too strong a tea will potentially burn the surface of the skin and prevent full absorption throughout the thickness of the skin. 12 bags, or around 15 teaspoons of looseleaf tea per litre seems to work well as a starting brew.

Step 6 – remove your tea bags from the now cold tea and pour it in to a container that you’re going to use to house the tanning skin for the next ten days or so. I use a 1 or 2 litre Mason jar without a rubber seal.

Submerge your skins in the tea. A litre  jar will do around 4 to 6 side skins from salmon… but it’s important that it can all be submerged  easily without squashing together top much.   Equally important is that all surfaces of the skin are exposed to the solution and that there are no folds stuck together. Stuck together folds will rot rather than tan.

After a day the tannin solution loses colour as the skins absorb it

Step 7 – change the tanning solution every other day with slightly weaker cold tea 7 – 9 bags per litre works well. Remove each skin every time and check for, and amend, any folded spots, before submerging them again.

Step 8 – after around 10 days it’s time to test the skin to make sure the tannins have worked all the way through the middle fibres. Trim an edge off and check the colour – it should be brown all the way through. If there’s still white in the centre layers then you need to tan for longer… or your original solution might have been too strong as referenced above.

You should notice that the skin now feels different – stiffer and more like thin leather. It should also smell like earthy tea rather than have a fish or ammonia aroma.

Sometimes a skin just doesn’t want to tan despite the others in the same solution coming out fine. It’s good to fail sometimes – it enables learning.

Step 9 – wash excess tannins out of your skins with cold water before leaving to drip dry. Your environment here is a big variable and you’ll need to keep a close eye on your skins to ensure they don’t dry out too fast.

As soon as they feel slightly tacky, rather than wet, to the touch it’s time to think about the next step.

Step 10 – apply a thin coat of oil or fat to both sides of the skin making sure to cover it all.

I like to use olive oil, hemp oil or tallow. Any workable fat will do (but butter isn’t ideal) and if you’re so inclined adding a tiny drop of dish soap and stirring it in to the fat before application will emulsify the fat helping it work in to the spaces between fibres of stiffer skins, but it’s not really necessary.

Start stretching the skin gently inch by inch and in all directions, pay particular attention to stiff spots.

Hake and haddock leather

You may want to add further coats of fat as you go along. The stretching works the fibres in the skin apart and allows the oil to get in amongst the fibres helping to preserve the skin further and stop the fibres from drying bound up.

Keep working the skins for a few minutes here and there in cooler areas or until fully dry in hotter weather. The more you stretch the skin the closer to supple it’ll become.

Some skins come out like fibrous flexible leather, like tilapia. Some come out more like a stiff cloth such as salmon. Some, such as hake and haddock, come out like flexible plastic sheeting.

Small panels can be made in to little leather craft bags

Experiment with what’s available to you and learn!!

Step 11 – apply a final coat of fat and work it in well before wiping off any excess with a dry cloth.

Now use and honour the fish in the using of and telling of stories of your crafting.

Finally, let me know if you do differently and why. Just give it a try.

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