In 2008, a couple of weeks after we got married, Junior went on his annual deer hunt in Colorado. I would have loved to go, but taking off a week and a half isn’t easy for me. Maybe someday, but for now, he goes without me. He’d helped on an elk hunt the two years before and the friend that they stay with had promised that it was his turn this year.

So he bought a bull tag over the counter when he got there. They hunted hard for four days, hiking in and sleeping rough. They sat still where the herd usually was for two whole days without seeing a single legal bull. Eventually, they came back in so the host could go to work and Junior set about doing his deer hunting.

One night after the host got off work, he loaded Junior up into his truck to check out another spot. They spotted one lonely bull on a distant hillside, and determined that not only was he legal, he was a very nice bull. They set up and Junior started shooting at it, but they could see that they weren’t hitting him. Now, Junior’s quite a good shot, so something was wrong here. They eventually remembered that they had a range finder, and took a reading on him.

Ah ha! He wasn’t 300 yards away; he was 467 yards away. Yeah, that’ll make a difference. So Junior adjusted his aim and squeezed off another round. Ka-thump, and the bull hunched up and started moving. Crack, and another shot had him down. By the time they got to him, it was getting dark and starting to snow. They field dressed him, not an easy task when you’re dealing with an animal every bit the size of a horse and laying on the ground in the snow. Junior had to give up his shirt to keep the meat clean. They had no way to get him out in the dark without the horses. I got a late-night phone call from a completely exhausted and elated man, and really regretted that I hadn’t been there.

So the next morning Junior and his dad borrowed one of their host’s horses and packed that beastie out during another exhausting day. He boned out the meat and left half of it for their host. We’re almost finished with the other half, and let me tell you, I’ll take elk any day, even over beef. It’s absolutely delicious and I’m hoarding the last few roasts for a special occasion.

Our friend Mike is a taxidermist, so as soon as he got home from Colorado, we took the head and horns over to his shop so he could cape him out. I’d never skinned a head for a mount before and wasn’t willing to experiment on this trophy. Now that I’ve seen it done on this elk and done it myself on a bear, I wouldn’t hesitate, which will make packing things out a lot lighter. As soon as he’d fleshed the fat and meat off the skin, Mike sent the cape off to be tanned.

In December Mike called us to come look through his catalog and pick out the exact form we wanted to use. We picked something a little unconventional in that it comes out from the wall at an angle. We were hoping to cram it into a spot in the living room; as high as these ceilings are, there isn’t a lot of room for really tall mounts. There’s a shelf that runs all along the top of the walls, blocking the best spot.

A couple of weeks ago, he called again. It was time to fit the cape to the form and put things all together. We wanted to watch; I’m fascinated with the process. He’d fitted it once to be sure that the neck was the right size, but he had a little more to do with it.

He left the final fleshing of one of the eyes for me to watch. This shaves down the skin on the inside, letting the taxidermist work in all of the tiny details that make a mount so lifelike.

We also watched as he created an ear out of bondo, like they use for bodywork on cars. Some taxidermists use a plastic ear form but he feels that he can get a better product with the bondo. He did a lot of pinning to make the grooves where the muscles are stand out and let the glue, cape, and assorted clay bits dry out for several days.

We weren’t around to watch the airbrushing, but he was so meticulous with that that the elk looks absolutely lifelike. You can see a touch of red inside his nostrils, as you would with an animal taking a sniff at you. One ear is very slightly cocked back to more closely hear whatever caused him to start to turn around when Mike froze time.

It’s an absolute masterpiece and we honor both the animal, the hunter, and the artist in hanging him on our wall.