I've got tarsal glands from probably the last 10 bucks I've killed - tied to my treestand. I do it with a dual purpose... For one, the real deer scent covers up mine. Secondly, in a weird way, I kinda feel like allthose boys' spirits are still alive - as long as I keep carrying them back home.

The most sentimental thing I do - and this has nothing to do with deer hunting - is that when I go out in the mountains picking ginseng, I carry my great grandfather's seng digging tool. The steel blade on that thing is actually rounded off from 50 years of use. It's like I've got a piece of Appalachian American history in my hands... That tool has picked more ginseng than most people will ever see in 100 lifetimes.