It doesn't look like much, but combined with a holder that feels tailored to my hand, and everything works to my good. The combination makes for a perfect fit. Or perhaps, just maybe, my time has come.
I told myself it's the horn that makes the difference, while shying away from the question, "Whose horn is it?" Elk? Ram? Goat? Chances are I shouldn't rock the boat.
This time around I "practice with purpose." I'm serious. Dedicated, dedicated, dedicated.
I like everything about this horn nib holder from John Neal Bookseller. For some odd reason it reminds me of a pipe. One I smoked in another time. Long stemmed, although not as quite as long as this, with a small bowl and chamber, it held just the right amount of tobacco. I lit the tobacco with a bit of a stick that lit quickly enough because it lay within prodding distance of the communal fire. If I toed it into the fire just before I wanted the comfort of my pipe, it lit well enough like a slow match catching flame. I smoked with the morning and evening fire; never on a hunt though. When I grew too old to hunt, I spent most of my time keeping watch on the young crawlers and toddlers; part of my job was steering them away from and out of the fire.
That streak of gray reminds me of the same large streak that catches the eye when people first notice me. It didn't spread much until it grew to the size of a fifty cent coin; then it acted like it had permission to free range. It spreads from my scalp and strays in a straight line into the same pattern found in a skunk's tail.
I made a deal with myself that I'd practice every day, even when I don't feel like it. The new practice pads make it easier this time around. They make all the difference between keeping a self-promise and merely intending and wishing. Stay tuned and I'll show and tell you why.