When last we spoke, I was in the dark a bit. That too has passed, but we're falling behind a bit, so I'm going to go through this pretty fast so I can get to the Haberdashers, which should be an easy transition at least.
The Bone

Let's get the bone out of the way then, shall we?
As previously noted, I ended up making my pin bone from a beef bone sold at a pet store for dogs to gnaw on. I boiled it until the 'meaty' bits were loose and then scraped it with a knife blade until it was clean and smooth. There followed an extended stint in a hydrogen peroxide bath both to bleach the bone and hopefully clean out any remaining contaminants that might foul my experience.
I carefully chose my bone from the pile at the pet store by laying them on the floor, looking for the most stable base for pin making. I have to wonder what the pet store folks thought of this madman crouched on the floor, examining how steadily each of their dog bones lay on the tiles. This meant I didn't need to shear slices off my bone or futz with it much at all to get a nice stable surface.
Using a saw and a file, I carved and cut several v-shaped grooves into the thickest part of the bone at an angle that I am guessing to be a good one for filing points onto pins.
Safety When Working with Bone
Note that I did not use power tools to work the bone. There's a reason for this aside from my promise to prejudice my methods toward the Elizabethan: Bone dust isn't something I want to line my lungs with. I'm not sure if we know the period methodology for working with bone beyond "Grab a knife sirrah, and go to with a will!" If I find something in my reading I'll let you know.
I worked this bone wet, but if I wanted to something more refined and give it a proper finish, there would be a great deal of polishing in my future with progressively finer grits. Thankfully, this is a tool that doesn't require much refinement beyond what you see above.
When next we meet: Making the pin and the sad plight of the Pin Maker.
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