The Joys of Smoke

Last week, I met with a group of third graders to demonstrate bow drill fires. The irony of this, is that although I have made a couple of kits all on my own, I am by no means a hunter-gatherer. I struggle to make a coal, and at this point in my journey rarely do.

However, the most primitive fire making these kids have seen was with a match, so they huddled around me close, waiting. I warned them in advance of how loud my "turkey call kit" was going to be, so they giggled when I started up. I think they expected the entire kit to burst into flames at some point. (And that would be quite an amazing fire show.) No such luck. I didn't even get a coal, but I did get a round of applause when smoke began to swirl around my spindle and into the air. And that was enough for them.

They were amazed that bow drill fires were even possible and thought that I surely must have been practicing for years to get this far. I reminded them that early man had no matches, so making fire was a daily routine. If they were living in a primitive culture, they would already be expert fire makers. They liked that idea.

So I've been spending my time tinkering with bow drill improvements, fixing form, flattening the spindle base for more friction, figuring out exactly how much downward pressure to apply... And I'm getting thoroughly frustrated with burning my hand-hold in deeper instead of a new hole, despite all the beeswax I am applying to it.

I too dream of being an expert fire maker. No. I dream of being a mediocre fire maker for now. And I'll get there and soon, especially since Eddie and Julie keep threatening us with ten minute fire drills...

I expect by this time next month I'll be coal-roastin' marshmallows!