A Few Good Knives
The Field Review: TFR-041
I’ll be the first to admit that The Field Review has been running deep lately.
Foundational identity realizations in Antarctica, reflections on shedding the past, long looks at self-confidence. After writing for almost a year on Substack, I sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that everything needs to have deeper meaning.
I’m letting you know now that issue of TFR isn’t one of those stories. This week, we’re talking about knives.
And sometimes, a knife is just a knife.
An Ode to Sharp Edges
A knife is one of the oldest tools in human history.
They are often simple in form, but endless in function. A good one stays with you, rides in your pocket, rests on your belt, or waits in the glove box, ready when you need it. It’s a tool first, but also a symbol of self-reliance, of preparation, of a certain way of looking at the world.
Some people collect them, some people lose them, some people pass them down. I’ve witnessed all three.
You might know that I grew up as a Boy Scout and if you’re familiar with the program, you know that your first priorities as a new scout are to earn two licenses:
The Firem'n Chit grants you the right to carry fire-lighting devices (matches, lighters, etc).
The Totin' Chip grants you the right to carry and use woods tools (knives, axes and saws).
If you got caught at camp lighting a fire or using a blade before earning those licenses, you lost access to them. Simple as that.
Luckily, I had a head start on blade and fire use. Some of the kids weren’t so lucky.
The first-week of first summer camp was full of bandaged fingers and lessons learned the hard way. One unfortunate kid in my troop grabbed a scalding-hot fire ring with both hands. With two hands wrapped in gauze the rest of the week, we forever called him “Mittens” until his family moved away a few years later.
For years I’ve carried some form of knife with me. Each one has a story, a purpose, and a place. Some have been with me for years, some have disappeared into couch cushions, backpacks, and riverbanks, never to be seen again.
A few have earned their place in a drawer of things I’m actively trying not to lose.
Here are a few of my favorites.
(Absolutely not sponsored in any way).
The Scouting Knife
I could just as easily call this the Houdini Knife because it’s disappeared more times than I can count.
This little red folding knife has been with me since the early 2000s, purchased with hard-earned Boy Scout popcorn money. It’s cheap, flimsy, unapologetically Made in China, and about as durable as a wet paper towel.
But it was the first knife I ever called my own and also the one I used to get my Totin’ Chip.
It’s been through Scout camps and personal trips, only to disappear in the depths of old backpacks, jacket pockets, and gear bins. It always resurfaces when I least expect it.
These days, I keep it in a keepsake box, intentionally trying not to lose it again.
The Swiss Army Knife
If you’re going to buy a Swiss Army Knife, you might as well do it in Switzerland.
I picked this one up in the gift shop on top of Jungfrau, the third highest peak in the Alps while backpacking through Switzerland after high school. Felt like the appropriate place to make such a purchase.
It’s got all the classic tools—blades, can openers, scissors, and a magnifying glass (helpful when teaching yourself to read German on the fly after missing your connector train).
It’s a a good knife for travel, though most TSA agents might disagree.
The Daily Carry
I mentioned this knife in my 2024 Year in Review. This Filson Assisted Opening Knife hasn’t left my pocket since my wife got it for me as a Christmas gift a few years back.
I’ve learned that people unfamiliar with assisted-opening knives tend to get caught off guard. One flick of the switch and like Allstate, “Life Comes At You Fast”.
Amazon packages hate to see this one coming… made in the USA, built to last, and about as reliable as they come. You know you’re living well when you order your t-shirts and knives from the same store.
The Family Heirlooms
I’ve been passed down a collection of knives from my great-grandfather who was an avid outdoorsman (read more about his story HERE). The first is a solidly built Barlow knife with a wooden handle. I don’t know its full history, but it now sits on my desk.
The second is a small two-blade skinner and as I’ve been told, it’s skinned more rabbits and squirrels than anyone will ever know. When I got it, the blades were dull, caked in grease, and long overdue for a tune-up. Now it’s razor-sharp, ready for whatever comes next.
This is also the knife that I carried in my breast pocket on my wedding day.
Hunting Knives
Hunting knives hold a different weight—literal and otherwise—because they’re used for something far more deliberate than slicing open Amazon packages.
The knife you use to break down an animal is different from every other blade you own. It marks the end of the hunt, and the moment when fur turns into food.
I’ve carried the same $15 Mossy Oak fixed blade from Walmart for every deer I’ve ever taken. It was the smallest blade in the 3-knife set, and it took me one deer to figure out that despite being the smallest, it was the powerhouse of the trio. I’m sure Goldilocks had a similar experience when she skinned her first deer.
Could I upgrade? Sure. There are plenty of premium hunting knives out there, and I have no doubt that a top-of-the-line Montana Knife Company blade would feel incredible in hand. But would it make my experience that much better? Would it change how I feel kneeling beside a deer?
Probably not.
That being said, I do have one fancier blade in my hunting kit. The Filson Bird & Trout knife. It’s a razor-sharp, well-balanced piece of craftsmanship that’s cleaned more than a few species of birds and fish. It’s got just the right amount of flex to carve along bone without wasting meat.
One of these knives came in a fancy commemorative box. The other could be replaced with a handful of crumpled bills from my glove box. They both serve a purpose and if the process ain’t broke, I’m not fixing it.
The OD OG
If someone asks me, “What knife should I get?” I tell them this Air Ranger from Gerber.
It’s the quintessential pocket knife. Light, well-balanced, extremely sharp, and no-nonsense. I carried it daily for years before switching to the Filson, but it still makes regular appearances.
And yes, I have two of them. Not because I meant to, but because I lost one and quickly ordered a replacement before finding the original lodged between the couch cushions.
Now, one stays in my hunting bino harness. The other stays around for whenever I need a backup.
Truck Knives
If you don’t have a truck knife, you need one. Even if you drive a sedan.
I keep a Leatherman multi-tool in my center console, but I also carry two knives that are pure overkill—both from the Gerber x Bear Grylls collection.
The first is a fixed-blade survival knife with a sheath, a whistle, and a magnesium fire stick. I bought it in high school before a camping trip and figured it might come in handy if I ever get stranded and need to start a signal fire or fashion a hunting spear.
The second is a machete (technically a parang) that’s been used more than I ever expected. Mostly to clear out branches blocking my shooting lanes in the deer stand. I especially remember putting it to work a few years ago when I had an arrow deflect off a branch and miss my target buck. Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to have been that branch on that day.
The Souvenir Collection
I have a tin box full of souvenir knives, all variations of this same folder I picked up at the Devils Tower Trading Post in Wyoming.
They’re decent knives but mostly sit in storage, waiting for the rare occasion when I need to stash one in a travel bag or remember a stop on some long-forgotten road trip.
In Closing
Some knives you lose. Some you outgrow. And some stay with you for life.
For me, it’s not about the price or the brand, it’s about trust. A good knife isn’t just sharp, it’s reliable. So when you find the right one, keep carrying it.
From My Desk:
What I’m Thinking/ Doing: We’re in the doldrums of February here in the Midwest. Football season is officially over. Hunting season is closed. We’re getting another few inches of snow and slushy rain this morning which makes shed hunting and fly fishing less than desirable.
Life is slow right now. Very slow.
On Deck for Monday: Work has finally picked up which is great. My client service hat is on, but there have been more than a few days this past week where I thought about taking it off. Wouldn’t it be nice to be a strategist that didn’t have to talk to people? On second thought, probably not.
From The Field Review Archives:
The Field Review is a space for exploring the intersection of work, life, and the great outdoors. It’s about figuring ‘it’ out—whatever your ‘it’ might be.
Every Sunday at 10AM EST, I share ideas, insights, and conversations that help break through the noise, offering a real look at how we can all keep moving forward.
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Venture Onward,
Jack
I’ve been carrying a Spyderco forever, but that Filson caught my eye. Thanks for identifying a new companion. Ordered.
I love my Gerber Paraframe. It holds an edge, blade length is right for field dressing and I can throw it straight in the dishwasher when I get home.