Pangolin Bracelets – with the Softest Dragon Scales

pangolin crocheted bracelet I met a Pangolin yesterday, he was a bit stuffed and in case in the museum but still he was the real thing. Not like these, no animals have been de scaled to make these crocheted bracelets. Inspired by the mighty Pangolin. Who could want more –

On Folksy right now – http://folksy.com/items/4140846-Dragon-Bracelet-Multi-Coloured-Crochet-with-Pangolin-Scales

 

 

Calling all Dragon Ladies – Pangolin Fingerless Gloves await you (and a free crochet pattern for extreme hookers)

pangolin fingerless gloves

Never let it be said that I leave any obession uncrocheted. You too can have scales, beautiful, multicoloured, soft undulating scales of woolyness all around your cold little wrists.

pangolin fingerless dragon scale gloves

On Folksy right now – http://folksy.com/items/4128326-Dragon-Wristwarmers-Multicoloured-Crochet-with-Scales-Medium

 

If you want to make your own, these were done on a number 6 hook with chunky wool. King Cole Riot.

This is not a pattern for beginners, it’s more of a rough guide.

Chain 18 and slipstitch together.

SC for 4 rows

Make foundation chain for scales (see the crochet section of the Rag Baby Youtube Channel for help with this)

Chain 4, Tr in same place. Miss 2 stitches 1Tr, miss 2 stitches 2Tr in same place….. until you have 4 sets of 2Tr, you may have to juggle the distance between Tr for the last few stitches.

Work 3 rows of Crocodile stitch then about 12 rows of sc. Finish with picot edging.

Inspirations – P is for Pangolin

Our local museum has a wonderful collection of sad looking stuffed animals, these include a Dodo (more about this later) and a Pangolin.

Pangolins are covered in pine cone like scales that are made of similar stuff to our fingernails, they are just beautiful and on their way out of this planet because they are being eaten faster than they breed. Baby Pangolins have soft scales and they harden as they get older, they hitch rides on their mothers tails. They are mammals, have insanely long tongues to catch ants with and are generally nocternal.

pangolin ball

The Pangolin, Marianne Moore

Another armored animal–scale
lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they
form the uninterrupted central
tail row! This near artichoke with head and legs and
grit-equipped gizzard,
the night miniature artist engineer is,
yes, Leonardo da Vinci’s replica–
impressive animal and toiler of whom we seldom hear.
Armor seems extra. But for him,
the closing ear-ridge–
or bare ear licking even this small
eminence and similarly safe
contracting nose and eye apertures
impenetrably closable, are not;–a true ant-eater,
not cockroach-eater, who endures
exhausting solitary trips through unfamiliar ground at night,
returning before sunrise; stepping in the moonlight,
on the moonlight peculiarly, that the outside
edges of his hands may bear the weight and save the
claws
for digging. Serpentined about
the tree, he draws
away from danger unpugnaciously,
with no sound but a harmless hiss; keeping
the fragile grace of the Thomas-
of-Leighton Buzzard Westminster Abbey wrought-iron
vine, or
rolls himself into a ball that has
power to defy all effort to unroll it; strongly intailed, neat
head for core, on neck not breaking off, with curled-in feet.
Nevertheless he has sting-proof scales; and nest
of rocks closed with earth from inside, which he can
thus darken.
Sun and moon and day and night and man and beast
each with a splendor
which man in all his vileness cannot
set aside; each with an excellence!
“Fearful yet to be feared,” the armored
ant-eater met by the driver-ant does not turn back, but
engulfs what he can, the flattered sword-
edged leafpoints on the tail and artichoke set leg-and
body-plates
quivering violently when it retaliates
and swarms on him. Compact like the furled fringed frill
on the hat-brim of Gargallo’s hollow iron head of a
matador, he will drop and will
then walk away
unhurt, although if unintruded on,
he cautiously works down the tree, helped
by his tail. The giant-pangolin-
tail, graceful tool, as prop or hand or broom or ax, tipped like
an elephant’s trunk with special skin,
is not lost on this ant-and stone-swallowing uninjurable
artichoke which simpletons thought a living fable
whom the stones had nourished, whereas ants had done
so. Pangolins are not aggressive animals; between
dusk and day they have the not unchain-like machine-like
form and frictionless creep of a thing
made graceful by adversities, con-
versities. To explain grace requires
a curious hand. If that which is at all were not forever,
why would those who graced the spires
with animals and gathered there to rest, on cold luxurious
low stone seats–a monk and monk and monk–between the
thus
ingenious roof-supports, have slaved to confuse
grace with a kindly manner, time in which to pay a
debt,
the cure for sins, a graceful use
of what are yet
approved stone mullions branching out across
the perpendiculars? A sailboat
was the first machine. Pangolins, made
for moving quietly also, are models of exactness,
on four legs; on hind feet plantigrade,
with certain postures of a man. Beneath sun and moon,
man slaving
to make his life more sweet, leaves half the flowers worth
having,
needing to choose wisely how to use his strength;
a paper-maker like the wasp; a tractor of foodstuffs,
like the ant; spidering a length
of web from bluffs
above a stream; in fighting, mechanicked
like to pangolin; capsizing in
disheartenment. Bedizened or stark
naked, man, the self, the being we call human, writing-
master to this world, griffons a dark
“Like does not like like that is obnoxious”; and writes error
with four
r’s. Among animals, one has a sense of humor.
Humor saves a few steps, it saves years. Uningnorant,
modest and unemotional, and all emotion,
he has everlasting vigor,
power to grow,
though there are few creatures who can make one
breathe faster and make one erecter.
Not afraid of anything is he,
and then goes cowering forth, tread paced to meet an obstacle
at every step. Consistent with the
formula–warm blood, no gills, two pairs of hands and a few
hairs–that
is a mammal; there he sits in his own habitat,
serge-clad, strong-shod. The prey of fear, he, always
curtailed, extinguished, thwarted by the dusk, work
partly done,
says to the alternating blaze,
“Again the sun!
anew each day; and new and new and new,
that comes into and steadies my soul.”