naturepunk:

Also forgot to upload these work-in-progress shots of the black wolf headdress I’m making for a customer.  The pelt was from a wet tanned wolf so I was worried that it wouldn’t fare too well in transit on the way here from Texas, but when it got here the other morning, all was well: The hide wasn’t slipping, the leather had a LOT of stretch to it, and it was far more beautiful in person than in the photos the seller originally provided. 

Though I didn’t plan to mount it right away, I did so anyhow. Something about it just seemed right - even pleasant. I think that maybe the smell of the hide (wet tanned pelts smell different than dry-tanned ones) reminded me of wilderness survival training, and the nostalgia was most enjoyable. 

It was a VERY well-handled hide, so I didn’t need to do any prep work myself aside from a bit of fleshing near the snout, and thinning down the nose a bit. It’s been a long while since I’ve had a pelt that didn’t give me any trouble, and it felt like a breeze to work with.

Note: This wolf was legally culled in the State of Alaska and has all required CITES permits. I bought it from a taxidermist in Texas who was going to mount it for a personal project, but decided that he had bigger fish to fry and no longer wanted it. 

Gorgeous pelt!

oh i almost forgot how could i

these are my woof spirit socks

i wear them when i want to get lucky

(And yes, I’m open for commissions, whether you have a hide or not. Note me for details!)

(Source: thegreenwolf)

naturepunk:

Dragon Boy’s birthday was yesterday, and I hosted the party here at the Attic. Naturally, we all decided to wear headdresses and run around like wild animals in the yard. We even took our procession down the street to the local corner market to get some mixers for our drinks. Dragon Boy, wearing a his family heritage kilt, face paint, and a black wolf headdress, took a drum with him and tapped out a rhythm while I lead the way with a jaguar on my head, playing Blue Whale’s spirit flute. There were about 7 or 8 others with us, all wearing pelts and marching along down the road. 

When we practically burst through the door at the corner market, Dragon Boy beat his drum and loudly announced in a Scottish accent: “We come seeking women and mixers! But mostly, mixers!” 

The bewildered sales clerk looked at us all in a mix of shock and amusement. “We don’t got no women,” he said. “We’re just a couple of fat guys.” 

Dragon Boy put his fists on his hips and gave the man a serious look. “You got man boobs?” he inquired.  

“Uhm. Yes?” 

“THOSE WILL DO!” 

And the sales clerk nearly doubled over in laughter.

We got what we needed from the store, then marched back out the door: The coyote holding hands with the girl with the fox tail, followed by the black bear and the mountain lion, followed by the girl with the deer on her head, followed by me an my jaguar, followed by another wolf, and finally Dragon Boy. Back on the street, he began beating the drum again, and I played the flute all the way home.

I wish I could have as much fun as this.