A long time ago, Santa brought me a little two-blade Buck pocketknife. The very next day, I found myself about 4 miles away from home hunting Canada geese. The weather was warm, so getting the guts out of the geese we had shot seemed like a good idea. I had just the tool for the job. Later that night, the latest addition to my knife accumulation was nowhere to be found. The next day, if I remember right it was a Sunday, in a driving rainstorm, I rode my four-wheeler back to the spot of the goose killing. There, using a metal detector, I found my knife in about a foot of water at the bottom of a ditch and all was right with the world again.