Equipment: I'm not a mall ninja, I just play one on TV.

A few months ago I visited Landlady's house. The boys were in the Jeep with me and went mad at the sight of three dogs hanging around the porch. They were big, ugly pit bull sorta dogs. One was obviously female, and from the looks of her belly she had a nursing litter somewhere.

First thought: Shoot them. Impediments: I wasn't carrying a gun, and I really didn't want to shoot dogs that were trespassing but not otherwise causing any problem. I especially didn't want to shoot the female. So I chased them off, and they went. I went up to the barn on Landlady's Ridge, loaded one of M's rifles, and went looking to see if they stayed gone. They did. (Yes, I know. I ALWAYS carry a gun. Except this time. I was just going from the Lair to the Meadow House, and didn't feel like strapping on a heavy pistol or carrying a rifle. Embarrassing. My bad.)

Anyway, the dogs didn't come back and I didn't hunt them. Then three days later a pack of NINE big, ugly pit bull sorta dogs tore up a neighbor's cow, which had to be put down. Were “my” three among them? Probably. Could I have made a difference if I'd been carrying my gun and used it? Possibly. Next time I don't get squeamish, I just shoot.

It's an example of a problem I occasionally have, which is that I get to thinking “You're acting like a silly-ass mall ninja, Joel. Do you really need all this hardware?” Most days, of course, I don't. But some days I actually do. When I get dressed in the morning I don't know which kind of day it's going to be. I don't have any childish fantasies about fighting off looters or zombies or feds - I'm too old for that shit. But with my every-day 1911 I have killed numerous snakes and one very belligerent badger. I have covered but not killed a treed bobcat with my AK, when it turned out she just wanted me to take my dogs and go, go, for the love of God just go. I'm always happiest when encounters end that way. Far more often than I've shot, I've been comforted in scary but ultimately non-dangerous situations by the fact that they're there.




Here's another example.


This is my very favorite knife. It's not fancy or expensive, it's just a tough, ugly slab'o'steel that takes a really good edge. It's clearly not the sort of knife you'd choose to carry every day if you lived in a town, because people would think you were some sort of weird poseur. But in the boondocks it has great utility. I use it for everything: Prying, scraping, whittling, poking holes in things. Yesterday I chainsawed this telephone pole a neighbor asked me to get rid of, and it turned out the pole still had a ground cable stapled to it, which is how I now know the knife works great for prying staples out of telephone poles.

It's useful to have around. But I do admit it feels a little stupid to carry this Jeremiah Johnson pigsticker everywhere I go.

It gets worse. I've always hated the sheath. It originally came with this floppy nylon strap which made no sense at all. I got it modified with a hanger loop that made the knife ride much too close to my body: The handle spent all day digging into my ribs.


A month or so ago I got to wondering if I could rearrange things for better utility. Turns out that hanger loop fastens just as well on a diagonal...


...which means now I walk around looking like a kid playing Zorro, and it feels kinda stupid. But it's a lot more comfortable and easier to use.

Then there's all the camo. Hey, I drive around in a bright yellow Jeep: I'm not trying to hide from anything, okay? But BDU trous are by far the best pants I've ever found for the desert: They're roomy, tough, have lots of pockets, and when bought surplus they're cheap. They're cooler than jeans and last better. But they don't come cheap in solid colors, so if people want to laugh at the camo I guess they're welcome to.

Point is, sometimes what makes you look like a dumbass is actually the best gear for the job.