The Knife That Named a Category: Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife Review

Weber, Leatherman, Buck. Anytime I come across a storied brand that never surrendered its reputation for manufacturing quality to bean counters’ “death by a thousand cuts,” my heart warms by a few degrees.

You’ve heard the term “Buck knife” before. It’s a household name, after all. Buck is the name of the company, founded in 1947, and the Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife ($65) is the knife that gave birth to the term “Buck knife” in 1964. Now the design is ubiquitous, widely imitated and copied by countless knife manufacturers at all price points.

Buck wanted to accomplish two things that it felt folding knives all lacked back when it was conceived. One, Buck wanted it to be strong enough to accomplish tasks that had always been seen as exclusively the domain of fixed-blade knives, and two, Buck wanted it to be beautiful.

I’d say that for this Space Race–era design that’s hardly changed since, Buck could declare mission accomplished.

In short: The Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife revolutionized the locking, folding knife market 61 years ago when it debuted, promising the convenience of a folder with the strength of a fixed blade. Buck had a hit on its hands, as the knife hasn’t only continued on as one of the brand’s strongest sellers, but it’s also spawned an industry full of imitators, descendants, and copycats.

Looking for a new knife for the outdoors? Check out GearJunkie’s Best Knives for Hiking & Backpacking Buyer’s Guide to compare the Buck 110 to our other recommendations.

Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife: Review

I’m a sucker for the classics, and so I was eager to review one of the most classic knife designs of the 20th century. Before you ever even flick the blade open and pull the clip-point blade through a piece of wood or an apple, the knife’s beauty whallops you over the head.

Ebony wood scales join the polished brass bolsters, held together by six visible brass pins and a pair of visible stainless steel pins for the pivot pin. For $10 more, you can buy a version with finger grooves carved into the handle, but I like the smooth original grip.

Buck still makes the 110 in Point Falls, Idaho. The fit and finish are beautiful, especially considering that this knife sells for $65. Sixty-one years later, there are lighter folding knives with the same strong locking mechanism, made of fancier steels.

The Back Lock That Changed Knife Design

Buck is famous for its stubborn use of 420HC stainless steel. While you can now order custom Buck 110s in S35VN and MagnaCut steels, Buck’s 420HC is the classic. Cork sniffers may turn up their noses at such a pedestrian steel, but I’ve widely encountered the sentiment that Buck’s Paul Bos heat treatment makes its steel the best 420HC in the industry.

Anytime I hear knife enthusiasts criticize 420HC for not holding an edge long enough, they follow it with a postscript: “Well, except for Bucks.” There’s a reason that 420HC is the de facto stainless steel for most knives. It’s easy to sharpen, highly corrosion-resistant, and when you bounce the blade edge off something, it has a tendency to roll the edge rather than chip, making it easier to repair.

There’s a large nail nick that makes it easy to swing open the knife. It locks automatically when fully opened, and to close it, you must press the lockback mechanism to swing it shut. So many locking, folding knives these days use this mechanism that it’s hard to remember that when the Buck 110 debuted in 1964, it was a novel innovation.

Buck’s whole marketing angle was that here, finally, was a folding knife that was strong enough to do the work of a fixed-blade knife. The lockback design was sturdier than the common slip-joint mechanism of most folding knives up to that point. While I wouldn’t say that the Buck 110 will out-muscle a fixed-blade, full-tang Buck 102 ($75), the Buck 110 is a strong design.

Buck loves the clip-point blade shape, and who can blame them? With a large 3.75-inch blade, the Buck 110 has plenty of cutting power for cleaving through wood or flesh, and a classic clip-point profile that narrows from 0.120″ toward the tip for precision while cutting.

You have to be more careful with stressing the knife to one side or another with a clip point, since there’s less metal thickness near the tip than on a drop-point or spear-point knife, but among clip-point blades, the Buck 110 doesn’t seem particularly delicate.

A Charming Fit and Finish

When I tore open the Buck’s box, which includes on the back a charming story of the family’s ethos in founding and continuing the company, I received the Buck 110 inside with reverence, not unlike how Harrison Ford lifted the idol in the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Everything about the Buck 110 felt just right in my hand. The knife balanced beautifully, and even without the trendy, sculpted handle of a modern super knife, it felt as comfortable as a pair of well-worn boots.

There wasn’t a stray mark, gap, or crooked line on the entire knife. I inspected every millimeter with the analytical, piercing gaze of an astronomer, and it was quite literally flawless. There was one catch, though. One minor catch that’s easily and forever fixed for a few bucks and in a few minutes. But it still annoyed me a little.

Nitty-Gritty Locking Mechanism

More so than most other knife brands I’ve experienced, Buck leaves a ton of grit — leftover metal bits and dust — from the manufacturing process in the knife’s pivot point and, especially, in the lockback mechanism. You’ll feel it when you first unbox your knife. It’s as if you just dug it up as buried treasure on the beach.

Buck’s penchant for shipping out its Buck 110s with such grit left inside them is a minor annoyance, but it doesn’t significantly dent my opinion of the knife because it’s easily and permanently solvable. Buy some Kershaw Knife Oil ($9), apply a few drops sparingly to the pivot point where the knife blade rotates and meets the lockback mechanism, and work the knife about 50 times.

If you have an irrigation syringe, such as those used for medical kits, even better. You can use it to blast some of the grit out of these hard-to-reach, tight spaces. Just use small amounts. You’re not trying to flood your workspace. Once the grit is gone, you should feel how much more smoothly the knife opens and closes. After it’s oiled, it operates beautifully.

Odds and Ends

The Buck 110 comes with a black leather pouch. The pouch is made in Mexico, but don’t let that send you off looking for a replacement. I’m a bit of a leather snob, but it appears to be good, thick leather with straight stitching. The only issue with the pouch is that the metal snap on the inside may rub against the knife handle’s wood or brass bolsters, potentially creating visible wear over time.

I was able to tug the front of the pouch to hold the snap away from the knife handle as I slid it in and out of the pouch. Seems tedious to do over time, though. My knives are users, not safe queens, so I’m not all that concerned about it. But I figured I’d tell you now in case you cared. It’s better than a nasty surprise on your beautiful knife later on.

Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife: Conclusion

At 7.2 ounces, the Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife is heavy for a hiking or backpacking knife. Thanks to its lockback mechanism, it’s strong as hell for a folding knife, sure, but you don’t need that much strength in a knife when you’re hiking. You’re going to spend more time cutting sausage and cheese than reenacting your childhood fantasies from the novel Hatchet.

If you’re unmoved by my borderline sacrilege and still want a particularly strong folding knife for the trail, as many hikers I know do, then I’d usher you toward the Buck 110 LT ($31). It weighs 3.2 ounces and is also made of 420HC stainless steel. It uses thinner, plastic scales to reduce weight and bulk. While it’s not as beautiful as the traditional Buck 110’s brass and ebony wood, at half the weight, it makes for a more clever knife on the trail.

For more casual pursuits, such as a knife to keep on you around the yard, in the truck, or at the campsite, I can’t think of a better knife than the Buck 110. For more than 60 years, it has inspired copycats and imitators, even as the knife world has begun to lean more toward the Lamborghini Countach than the Chevy Silverado in recent years. I’d wager the Buck 110 will still be here in 60 years’ time, and just as popular as ever.