Flashback Friday – Missing Your Timing

From January10, 2020 :

The Captain thought it a good idea. Because the Captain thought it a good idea, my wife thought it a good idea. If I hadn’t felt railroaded into it, I would have thought it a great idea. Spinney, Kora, aunt Martha and my friend Bob all chimed in, and the consensus was that it would be a “bullet product” for a carver to create and sell. The fishermen would buy it because it was useful to them, tourists would buy it in the shops because it was a genuine part of local life that they could take home. 

The item was a netting needle. Fishermen still use netting needles to make and repair all sorts of network. My only surviving needle is the first crude attempt that I made. I did improve. My first five or so were kindling ( ash burns with a beautiful, sweet odor). But then I caught the skill of cutting out the tongue ( that small needle in the middle of the netting needle) without splitting the whole into pieces. At about six inches, my one remaining netting needle is on the tiny end of useful sizes. Needle size depends on the net size you are creating. You charge the needle with twine looped around the tongue and the fishtailed end of the needle, and then you are ready to go. The images here come from an exhibit at the Maine Maritime Museum ( Visit it!!)

To make them traditionally, the Captain and Spinney had me split out local ash with a froe – a tool that looks like a sideways chisel. Spinney called this riving, which is how planks were split off logs before pit saws, circular saws, and other machinery came along to create planks. If you have ever split firewood, you’ve done it. Woods like ash and oak have tremendous resistance to rot when split this way. After riving, the split piece of ash was planed smooth and flat and then taken to the local tidal inlet, weighted with stones in the ebb and flow of the tide, and left. Some months later, the salt-darkened wood was ready to be worked.

The only additional equipment needed is a hook or ring to attach the top cord of the net and a rectangular piece of metal or wood to determine the size of the net’s boxes. If you must see the whole process, I advise a visit to YouTube. I just made the needles.

The needles are easy to make. When adequately finished, they have a nice feel in the hand and are useful. So why did I title this Missing Your Timing? Well, the wooden ones last for years as long as the tongue doesn’t break. You can whip one together in a pinch using a metal coat hanger and a pair of pliers. Any competent fisherman can make his own, and around the time I began making them, they became available in plastic. 

They didn’t sell well in the shop where we placed them; people didn’t understand what they were for—they required too much explanation. A rubber lobster made better sense. So, the stock I had carefully made was distributed to friends and their friends. I considered myself well rewarded if someone liked my needle well enough to make it a favorite.

My Brain Trust shook their collective heads, as did I. You can convince yourself that your newest widget is the best thing since Mayonaise, but that doesn’t mean it is. That’s why market research needs to be more than a group of people sitting around saying, “Hey! Here’s a great idea!”

I made some lovely cutting boards with the remaining ash, which sold well.