Great question. I can just sit and stare at my mounts, I don' t have many, and relive that hunt like it was yeasterday. I let my children name the mounts. The eight point buck is named Flounder and every time I see that dried blood on the antlers I can remember calling may dad on the radio and saying, as I held up the head for the first time, " I know what I want for Christmas." My first fly caught trout, an 18" native brown from a mountain stream. I selected the fly while at the stoplight in town, thirty miles away. Match the hatch my butt. and on and on. I get to quietly relive my most precious memories, I get to pay tribute to the animal I killed forever. The first year I brought home Flounder, my wife tried to decorate it for Christmas with a red nose and such. I WENT NUTS. That animal died not to be a holiday decoration but to be forever honored. She understood.

Greg