Random Knotty-ness

Before there was paracord, the prepper's cordage of choice, there was something even more versatile and a lot easier to find in rural areas: baling twine and wire. These have been staples of farm ingenuity for a long time, and so their uses are impossible to fully list.

Way back in the olden days (pre-1980), farmers had been storing hay for their livestock in “small”  rectangular bales for decades. After the hay is cut and allowed to dry, it is picked up by a baling machine that compacts it into a rectangle (about 14” high, 18” wide, and of various lengths  between 30-60”, determined by the farmer running the baler) and ties it together with either wire or twine. 

Since farmers need to feed their animals every day during the winter months, they were constantly opening up bales that had been put up in storage during the summer. Opening bales leaves two lengths of twine or wire per bale, and it starts to pile up by mid-January. Perfect for quick repairs and fastening loose things, frugal farmers never discarded it. Luckily, you don't have to live on a farm to find it.

Types of Baling

Baling wire is soft steel wire, normally around 14 gauge (Ga) diameter, ungalvanized and sold in rolls of roughly a mile in length. Here's one that's 14.5 Ga and 6,500 ft long. $80 for 100 pounds of steel wire isn't a bad price, and they do deliver. 

Personally, I hate wire-tied bales. The wire is small enough in diameter that it cuts into your hands when you pick up the bales, requiring the use of gloves, and the ungalvanized wire also rusts if left in contact with the ground. Picking up the bottom layer of a stack was always a challenge, as I never knew many would burst as I lifted them.

Baling twine comes in a few forms and several sizes. The natural fibers, jute and sisal mainly, are biodegradable and easiest on the hands. They also have a high tensile strength and tend to hold knots better than synthetic fibers. Tractor Supply Co. is a national chain of farm supply stores, and they sell a sisal fiber twine with a 350 pound tensile strength in a “bale” of two rolls having a total length of 9000 feet for about $50.

The plastic fibers are better for long-term storage and are more pest-resistant. Going back to Tractor Supply Co., you can see there are several “weights” to choose from. The lighter twine, the ones with tensile strength around 100 pounds, are for straw and grass bales that don't weight more than 40 pounds. The heavy twines with tensile strengths over 200 pounds are for holding the larger round bales together.

Rolls vs. Reels

You may have noticed I used the term “roll” of twine or wire and not “reel”. A reel of anything comes wound around a core of some sort, while a roll doesn't have a core. Reels feed from the outside and the loose end is always on the outer edge, away from the center, while rolls feed from the inside. Reels have to turn as you draw the cordage off of it, rolls don't move. 

The reasons for using rolls instead of reels have to do with how the baling machines operate, but it makes using and storing them anywhere other than a baler a bit of a challenge. As you use up the roll you are pulling the twine from the center and making the whole thing weaker. By the time you get about half way through the roll, it's not strong enough to move without the roll collapsing. Wire is almost as bad, with the added issue of rusting from the outside and being two or three times as heavy. That's messy and wasteful, so here's the trick to avoiding that problem.

1. Find a clean 5-gallon bucket with a lid. Tractors and large equipment use oil and fluids by the gallon, so 5-gallon buckets are common. If you're working with wire, a little leftover oil or hydraulic fluid won't hurt and may help prevent rust. Check any local restaurant for empty buckets if you're on a budget; otherwise most of the big-box home supply stores sell them.
2. Remove the lid and place the roll in the bucket. Don't remove the wrapper if there is one, just drop it into the bucket.
3. Cut or punch a small hole in the center of the lid using a sharp knife or screwdriver. The hole should be no bigger than the twine or only slightly bigger than the wire you're using.
4. Find the loose end of the twine or wire in the center of the roll and feed it through the hole on the bottom of the lid. Tie a knot or twist the wire to keep it from falling out of the hole.
5. Replace the lid on the bucket and secure it. Most lids have tabs that will lock onto the bucket.
6. If your bucket has a handle, tie or twist the cordage around the handle so it doesn't fall back into the bucket. I also like to tie a utility knife or wire cutter to the handle so there's always one available.

You can use smaller variants of the bucket trick to keep thread and other small lines neater and clean. Any container that the roll, reel, or spool will fit into with a small hole to feed it through makes a world of difference.

Baling wire and duct tape have kept more farm machinery operating than you can imagine. It's always handy to have twine around for quick binding jobs, and buying a roll that's over a mile long will last you years.

Woven Glory

Two years ago, I started an extended series on Fiber Arts, but never finished it due to health problems. Now that I'm no longer over my head, I intend to finish that series. I've managed to cover the types of fiber, processing it, spinning, and dying it, and today I talk about weaving it into usable form.

Weaving is an art form that is almost as old as civilization itself, and has been practiced since the very beginnings of agriculture (and possibly before that). Every known society throughout history has had some form of woven textile goods that were produced from a variety of source fibers.

As societies grew and gained technological advances (either through study and innovation, or via trade with their near neighbors) the looms they used to produce cloth became more complex, allowing for a much wider range of patterning in the finished product.

In its most basic form, a loom is simply something to hold long threads in place and under tension (called the warp) while other, usually much shorter, threads are passed over and under them in succession (called the weft.)

These days, looms come in a huge variety of sizes and shapes, from lap-held looms that can produce both simple and elaborate trims or strips of fabric, all the way up to looms that require their own rooms for making extensive rolls of fabric, large rugs and carpets, or hanging wall tapestries*. When talking about home or artisan use, there are three different types of  basic looms, which is what I'll describe today, along with a fourth which is mainly a historical curiosity.

None of these looms require power to operate, and all can be made by hand with proper woodworking tools and knowledge, meaning that they are a good investment for a prepper interested in making woven fabric.

*Yes, tapestries are still a thing, though they aren't specifically used for keeping out drafts these days. They're very labor intensive, ornate, and time consuming to produce, sometimes taking upwards of two years to manufacture and costing thousands of dollars. Weaving specialists work hand in hand with draft artists and painters and can turn practically any piece of flat visual art into a one-of-a-kind tapestry to hang for viewing!

Style One: The Inkle Loom

Rhi's inkle

Inkle looms are small, portable, typically lap-held looms that weave very narrow strips of cloth. The width one can handle is determined by the length of the bars that make up most of its form, and is seldom over 3 1/2 inches in total width. The warp threads are wound individually, with every other thread passing through a loop of string which is tied off separately and is referred to as a heddle. The heddle is what allows a weaver to move alternating sets of threads into place (up/down or back/forwards, depending on the type of loom) before a pass is made with the weft (crossing) thread.

Inkle looms are fantastic for beginning weavers. They're inexpensive, easy to learn, and very forgiving of potential mistakes. With the addition of cards (also called tablets), some seriously intricate pattern work can be performed on an inkle loom, giving it a huge amount of versatility for its size and price.

I've seen inkles run between $45 and $150, depending on the quality of the woodworking done during manufacture. My inkle cost about $80, and is made of scrap hardwood from other projects. It will weave 2 1/2 inch wide pieces of fabric, which I primarily use for things like belts, trim on costuming, straps for purses, strips of it sewn together side by side and then into a shoulder bag or pouch, etc. It also doubles as a warping stand for my floor loom, where I use it to measure the lengths of thread to be warped onto the Big Boy (see below).

These are great for kids, beginning weavers, those who don't intend to invest a lot of time and money, and those who are wanting to see whether its a hobby they actually enjoy before making the larger time and money investment required with a tabletop or floor loom. They're also well loved by experienced weavers who make complex ribbons of trim via tablet (or card) weaving on an inkle.

Style 2: The Box or Tabletop Loom

Tabletop loom by
Tumbleweed Woodworks

Offering lightweight portability that still allows for significantly larger pieces of cloth than an inkle, the box or table loom is a good choice for those who don't want the expense (both monetary and floorspace) of a traditional floor loom. 

These guys are little work horses, reliable and easy to learn how to use. Though they're less forgiving of mistakes than an inkle, they're also a lot more versatile in the types of patterns available to the weaver. 

Most of the box or tabletop looms that you'll find are rigid heddle looms. Instead of a piece of string tied around every other thread like the inkle loom, a rigid heddle loom has rows of very thin metal bars with eyelets in them to pass the thread through. In the photo above, you can see the three sets of rigid heddles in the raised areas featured in the center of the "box" frame.

Each thread gets its own heddle instead of only half the threads getting held in position this way. The more heddles a loom (tabletop or floor) has available, the more complex and ornate the pattern can become. Since each thread gets its own means of moving up and down, the shed (current weaving area) is determined by which heddles are up.

These looms are good for slightly more advanced beginners, intermediate weavers, advanced weavers who want something small and portable to relax with while out of the studio, and those who want to dabble and are willing to spend more than what an inkle generally costs. Plan on spending between $250 and $600 if you decide to purchase a good tabletop loom.

Style 3: The Floor Loom

Modern LeClerc Floor Loom

This is the "Big Boy" category of looms; the largest available outside of the strictly commercial cloth production market. Floor looms come in a variety of sizes, measured by the width of the cloth they can produce. They are very large, often larger than a good sized desk and requiring a chair or bench to sit at while working the loom itself.

As you can see from the photo above, this particular style of loom requires a great deal of space to set up and use properly. They are also a significant investment financially, often costing anywhere from $1,500 to $8,000 depending on brand, weaving width, number of heddles (which partly determines how complex a pattern you can produce) and number of sheds available.

I own a 48" weaving width standing jack loom with six heddles and four sheds. It currently resides at Knight's Rest in storage, because I haven't had the space to set it up. Floor looms are not for dabblers, nor are they a good choice for those on a serious budget; I only managed to acquire one because an acquaintance in my RenFaire group had too man, and needed the space, so she gave one away. I was the lucky winner of the "First to say something gets it" lottery.

Style 4: The Warp Weighted Loom

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warp-weighted_loom#/media/File:WarpWeightedLoomCTMLodzPoland.jpg

Seldom used by any except the most dedicated historical re-enactors, a warp weighted loom doesn't look much like what people think of when they hear the term "loom." These are usually very tall (in excess of six feet) with a weaving area that ranges from three to eight feet wide. Tension is maintained on the warp threads by the expediency of tying bundles of warp thread to clay weights, which can then be adjusted to allow more thread as the weaving progresses. 

These are easy to build, but can take years of practice to become expert in its use. Due to their size, and how they are warped, some seriously fancy pattern work can be achieved by someone who knows what they're doing on one of these. Sadly, I am not one of those people!

A Final Word

Weaving is both a skill and an art form, much like many of the other obscure skills I've been known to discuss. True proficiency requires a time investment, and definitely has a learning curve involved. I'm far from being an expert in weaving, though I am a devoted hobbyist. Thankfully, I have friends who are truly experts in the field, and I highly recommend the advice of those well versed while learning.

All the Colors of the Rainbow

In this series on Fiber Arts, we've gone over preparation of fiber and spinning it into thread. Today, we're going to talk about putting a bit of color into your life (and fiber) by means of dyeing processes.

First we'll talk about natural dyes versus synthetic dyes, and what it takes to prepare either for use. I'll go over some of the pros and cons of each.

Natural Dyes

Natural dyes are found all over the place. Plants provide a huge range of dying materials, from flower, root, bark, leaf, and berry. Indigo blue, saffron yellow, madder red, and woad used to produce greens, blues, and a blue-green are all prime examples.

There are insect made dyes as well, the best known being a deep red produced by crushing a particular type of beetle (cochineal). Also in the insect category is kermes dye, which was in use prior to cochineal. It also produces a very deep and clear crimson color, and was considered highly desirable through the end of the middle ages.

Shellfish have also been used to produce a stunning natural purple so difficult to obtain that it became known as royal purple. There have even been mineral-based dyes used at times, such as ochre, which is an iron oxide that produces a yellow to red/brown color.

Most natural dyes require some form of mordant, a chemical assistant to help the pigment attach itself to the fiber being dyed. Historical mordants range from iron to vinegar to the ammonia found in stale urine, as well as salt, tannin from oak galls, and natural alum.

There are several truly outstanding books about using natural dyes currently in print, from Growing a Dyer's Garden to the Chemistry of Natural Dyes to exact instructions on Gathering and Processing Natural Dye Stuffs. This is only a small selection of the vast range of instructional books currently available on the market, all of them written by true experts in their craft, and any of them can give you considerably more information than I possess on the subject.


Synthetic Dyes

Synthetic dyes are more widely used these days. Most everyone is familiar with the Rit Dye that you can buy at the local grocery store, usually found on the same aisle with laundry supplies. Cheap, easy to use, mass produced, and not requiring the use of extra chemicals or extra processes to apply color, synthetics have essentially completely replaced natural dye sources in commercial use.

Synthetic dyes are strictly lab produced, many of them petroleum-based in their inception. The first synthetic dyes - an organic aniline called mauvine developed in 1856 - was the result of a failure to produce synthetic quinine. Several other colors which were developed around the same time started life as attempts to find substitutes for expensive cochineal, indigo, saffron, and Tyrian purple.

These days you can find practically every color you can imagine, in shades ranging from nearly white to nearly black, in a synthetic form. With the exception of dyes used in commercial mass production of cloth, very few synthetic dyes that you can buy on the market need a mordant. In most cases, the dyes available for purchase by the general public already have any necessary mordanting chemicals incorporated into the dye when it is sold.

While the synthetic dye market doesn't have the absolute wealth of written material that natural dye does, it does offer this look at the science behind synthetic dyes. The Chemistry of Vat Dyes is written with teaching high school level chemistry students about various dye techniques in mind, and is a companion book to The Chemistry of Natural Dyes.

Pros and Cons

Synthetics

No lie: synthetics are easier to use these days, come in a considerably wider range of color, and are frequently cheap and easy to find. There is also a convenience factor involved in synthetic dyeing that simply can't be found in natural dyes.

While a lot can be said for convenience when the world is in a relatively "normal" state, there's little room for it when SHTF. This is especially true when one is looking at reconstruction after such drastic circumstances as an apocolyptic scenario, or after a serious long term disruption of "normal."

Yes, packets of dyes are great, especially for colors that are difficult (if not impossible) to obtain from natural sources. However, they aren't essential, and would honestly take up room that would be much better spent on other items that are more useful and more difficult to replace with a natural source.

When weighing the usefulness and probable need for an item vs. its weight/space requirements and the availability of alternatives, synthetic dyes simply don't measure up. While they're certainly more convenient to use, easier to obtain under normal (or even mostly normal) conditions, and relatively cheap, the long term sustainability in a collapse simply isn't there.

Natural
There are other drawbacks to using natural dye sources, though. Most of them are messy processes; if you're looking to set color into fiber (cloth) then the articles of clothing that you're wearing are going to end up stained if you aren't either very good or very lucky.

Beyond that, several of the mordants used in the natural dying process smell rather bad. They smell so bad, in fact, that cloth manufacturing and dying areas were often on the edge of towns situated well away from any residential areas other than the absolute poorest and meanest accommodations. The smell is not going to linger in the cloth dyed by these techniques, nor is it going to linger in the area once the dye process is finished and things are cleaned up... unless, of course, you have a large enough manufacturing process going on that you have multiple, or daily, repeated dye jobs going on.

You simply can't escape the fact that the smell of the process is going to attract attention, which is important if what you're doing is attempting to fly under the radar and keep your presence in an area from being discovered. However, if you're in a long-term reconstruction situation, and situated in a position where cloth manufacture and dyeing is even possible and practicable, you probably aren't going to be nearly as concerned about keeping your presence a secret. and hiding your manufacturing location, either due to stability or numbers of people available for protection.

The third primary drawback to natural sourced dyes is time. It is time-consuming to collect plant materials suitable for use as dye stuffs, whether that collection is via wild-crafting or growing a dyer's garden in part of your garden space. Some plant materials have to be harvested at specific points in their growing cycle to be useful for dying. It takes time and experience to learn what sort of timing is necessary to achieve specific desired results (but that's true of many arts and sciences), and time is often in short supply in a long term survival situation. Finally, the amount of actual processing time needed for most naturally produced colors is much longer and considerably more labor-intensive than tearing open a package of synthetic dye to dump in a vat of water and leaving cloth to soak in it for an hour.

Natural dyeing, while it has those drawbacks, has a distinct advantage (besides the space and renew-ability issues) over synthetic dye: natural dyes don't tend to produce allergic responses in people. It is rare that you'll find someone who has a topological reaction to a naturally-dyed, natural fiber cloth. No allergic reaction means no down time to recover, and no need for potentially irreplaceable medications for those allergies.


In Closing

I strongly endorse further study of expert sources, as well as keeping at least a couple of instructional books in your library (either actual or digital) for those who are interested in this aspect of reconstruction after a long-term SHTF situation. There's simply not enough space (and in my case, an honest lack of sufficient expertise that I freely admit) to do much beyond glossing over the pros and cons of this skill for long-term survival and long-term comfort after surviving in the first place.

Next time, I'll look at various types of looms for weaving cloth of various sizes, from lap held looms that are easy to construct, all the way up to looms large enough to weave rugs, wall hangings, and large pieces of cloth for clothing replacement.

Spinning Wheel Got To Go 'Round

After the Storm

In my last post, I discussed getting fiber ready to start on its way to becoming cloth. Today, we're going to take the next step on that path, and look at what it takes to spin fibers into thread or yarn.

Producing a strong, resilient filament of interconnected fibers is essential to producing a long lasting cloth or rope of any sort. From thick yarns used to make comfortable, warm sweaters, to ultra fine thread used to sew cloth into a wearable form, all of it goes from the preparation stage to the spinning stage.


While the methods of spinning fiber into useable thread are many and varied, there are only three primary types of spinning technique:

• Hand twisting
• Drop Spindles
• Spinning Wheels

Each of these methods has had its moment in history. Each of them has evolved from their earliest forms into their current form and usage.


Hand Spinning

The most basic means of twisting together the fibers of wool or cotton is by the simple expedient of your own fingers. Twirling the strands of fiber together by simply rubbing them between your hands, or rubbing them along a leg, and then adding more to the length as you go, has probably been in use since long before humankind settled down in agricultural settlements and became "civilized."

It's time-consuming, it's tedious, and unless you've practiced it for a long time, it doesn't offer much in the way of consistent results... all of which no doubt played major roles in the creation of simple tool assists in the form of spindles.


Drop Spindles, the longest-used spinning tool

A drop spindle is, other than a knife or hammer, perhaps one of the oldest tools mankind still uses. They are simple and elegant, consisting of little more than a straight shaft which is weighted at one end, with a small hook at the top end, and sometimes a small notch at the top of the shaft as well.

There are 3 distinct styles of drop spindle, and they are differentiated by where the weight is placed.

A Top Whorl Spindle has the weight placed at the top end of the shaft - the end closest to your hand while in use. Weight placement at the top means this spindle turns very rapidly, but has a short spin time in relation to its speed.

A Bottom Whorl spindle places the active weight at the bottom of the shaft, away from your hand while in use. These spin much slower than a top whorl, but the duration of their spin is significantly increased and I've found them to be more stable.

A Center Whorl spindle places the weight in the middle instead of either end. This one has the speed and relative duration of the top whorl, but slightly better stability during spin.

All 3 types work in the same manner, utilizing centrifugal force - just like spinning a toy as a child. Top and bottom whorl spindles are both fairly common, but I haven't seen many people utilize a central whorl.

Once a small piece of thread (referred to as the leader thread) is attached to the shaft, the other end of the thread is attached to the beginnings of your bundle of fiber (called roving). The old thread works as a guide for the new thread, helping to keep it in place as you twist the fibers together and then wrap it around the shaft as it accumulates.

The techniques for learning to use a drop spindle are easy to pick up. Moderate proficiency can be gained in very little time; it took me about an hour to learn how to use a drop spindle originally, and within two months of rather hit-and-miss inconsistent practice, I had gained enough proficiency that the yarn I produced no longer looked like a misshapen collection of thick and thin with oddly placed bumps and spacing. Had I been more diligent in practicing with my new drop spindle when I acquired it, it would have taken a lot less time to get any sort of decent consistency from it.

I've used both bottom and top whorl spindles, and found very little difference in the two other than how frequently I needed to set it spinning again after it slowed down to a stop. Whichever you end up using is a matter of personal preference. My preference is for the bottom whorl spindle, simply because that's what I originally learned on, and therefore have the most practice with.

The concept is actually very simple. Fortunately, there are several professionals who have posted videos on YouTube as instructional videos to get people started. I'm not going to confuse you by trying to explain the whole process; instead, I suggest you watch this video from a true professional instructor in fiber techniques. She makes it clear, concise, and simple in a way that I simply can't accomplish.



Taking a Spindle to the Next Level


Beyond the basic drop spindle, we have larger mechanical aids to creating thread in the form of Spinning Wheels. The introduction of the spinning wheel during the early middle ages was important because it increased a spinner's production rates by a factor of 10 or more. Suddenly, one person could produce the same amount of thread as 10 people, with the same consistency in quality. This meant that fewer people had to be working on the same project. Thread could be produced faster, which meant it could be turned into cloth faster, and subsequently prices came down.

Today there are a variety of wheels produced for the fiber arts community by several companies. Some of them are large enough that even moving them inside a single room isn't very practical, while others are light and compact, meant to be portable and use anywhere.

The basic concept is the same as using a drop spindle: centrifugal force is utilized to assist in twisting the fibers together to provide strength, durability, and lengths that are practical to use. The roving is fed slowly into an already twirling mass, thinned out as it goes along, to produce a single tightly wound but very elongated group of fibers.

I've had only a bit of experience with a wheel so far. A close friend in the fiber arts community has allowed me to use hers a few times so that I could see the differences between using a drop spindle and using a wheel. Eventually, I'll have the money saved up to invest in a wheel of my own. They are significantly more expensive than drop spindles, however, and much more difficult to produce, so it's one of those items on the wish list for now. Taking a class - or even watching something like this video - will give you a better idea of how a spinning wheel works than I'm capable of explaining.



I understand that investing anywhere from $500 (for a good used portable wheel) to $4000 (for a brand new great wheel that will become a permanent installation where you put it) is not lightly undertaken. I wouldn't suggest it for anyone who didn't already know for certain that it was going to be lovingly cared for and used on a regular basis. For those wanting something to keep "just in case", a drop spindle can be made from any straight shaft of wood or metal with a weight to attach to it to keep it spinning.

Next time, we'll take a look at methods of dying your fiber, whether it be spun yarn or already woven cloth, and the pros and cons of synthetic dyes versus natural dyes.

Baa Baa Black Sheep, Have you any Wool?

One of the most basic human requirements is clothing. The production of clothing has been an industrial concern of mankind since the earliest civilizations, and has ranged from the most crudely tanned animal hides to the finest of delicate fabrics.

From sumptuous silks, to sturdy canvas sails, and all the glorious variations that fall between those two polar opposites, there are several steps to be accomplished to take fiber from it's most primitive state to finished product ready for human use.

Today we're going to concentrate on beginning the process of taking raw fiber and getting it ready to take its journey into becoming cloth.
Whether you're dealing with animal-based fibers from fur or hair (such as various types of wool) or plant fibers of some sort (cotton, or flax for linen), almost* all types of fiber are going to go through the same basic process in order to ready it to become some sort of usable fabric.

1. Harvesting
2. Cleaning
3. Straightening & Aligning

* Silk is a process unto itself, and with the exception of those living in portions of Asia and the Middle East where the silkworm is native, it isn't likely to be readily available to those who read this blog. Since it's not easily or readily available over a wide range of climate types and geographical areas, and is highly specialized, I'm going to leave it alone completely. For those who have a serious interest in silk as a sustainable fiber, I suggest Silk: Processing, Properties, and Applications. While it's rather expensive, it's a comprehensive text book on the entire silk industry, from cultivation of silkworms through processing of the fibers for spinning and weaving.


Harvesting
Harvesting is fairly straightforward, and is going to vary according to the animal or plant you are dealing with. Sheep and other animals used as primary sources of wool are regularly shaved to collect their fur or hair. Cotton and flax are harvested in season.

I strongly urge you to become familiar with what is currently being grown in your geographical area, and learn the specifics of harvesting that particular type of fiber. Get to know someone in your area who raises wool animals, or grows cotton or flax intended for the clothing industry, and find out what you can from them how the fibers are grown and harvested.


Cleaning
Cleaning is almost as straightforward as harvesting: A gentle wash with water, or water with a very mild soap, is used to remove dirt and unwanted oils from the various types of wool.

Cotton and flax are de-seeded, and then given a gentle rinse to remove surface dirt.

Again I urge you to find out what is considered available in your area. Shearing sheep, and then skirting the wool, washing it, and extracting the lanolin is an art form as well as something that goes much easier when taught as a hands-on procedure by those in the know.

An Aside About Wool
Wool is the type of fiber most easily and readily available across a wide portion of the planet. Wool is defined as the hair of an animal - usually sheep, llama, alpaca, goat, yak, and rabbit - which varies in length and curl, and can be harvested without killing or inherently harming the animal it came from.

If you have a dog or cat with long enough hair, then even their fur, once cleaned and prepped, would be considered a type of wool. (Don't laugh - I personally know people in the fiber arts community who have spun dog hair and used it for knitting projects. There's even an entire book out about how to do so!)

For those who have access to some fur- or hair-bearing animal, wool is a safe bet for long term use. It's easily sustainable, relatively easy to process, available from a wide variety of sources, available in practically every climate where humans reside, and can be used in a wide range of end products. For the most comprehensive, all-inclusive book I've found concerning preparing all types of wool for use, I'd definitely suggest investing in a copy of The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook. I have yet to find something more inclusive, and it gives tons of information that I simply don't have the space to offer here.


Straightening and Aligning
Aligning wool of most types requires one of two things, both of which ultimately accomplish the same job: lining up all the individual fibers in the same direction, and making sure there aren't major snarls and tangles in the clumps of fiber. For this, you'll need either a Drum Carder or a pair of Hand Carders.

The same can be said for cotton. However the Hand Carders used for cotton have a different texture on the pad of the card. The two types are only somewhat interchangeable from what I've been taught: a cotton carder (which is ultra fine) can be used for wool, but the coarser wool carders can't be used for cotton. Don't take that as gospel, though; I'm still in the learning process for the early stages of fiber arts, and still have a long way to go before I'm any sort of expert.

While the process is easy to learn, it takes time and practice to master. Even once you have the techniques learned, it requires a bit of patience to get large batches of fiber ready for use. This is an activity that is best suited to what might otherwise be unproductive "down" times (while resting but not sleeping), or as something to keep kids, the not-to-seriously-injured, and those who feel "useless" busy and productive, giving them a task tackle to free up the hands and time of someone who might have other necessary skills.

Next week, we'll look at taking the fiber and getting it turned into usable thread or yarn.