Where do the years go? It will soon be 19 years since the late, great Deer & Deer Hunting contributor Charles Alsheimer penned the following paragraph:
“Our time on God’s green earth is but a vapor. Make no mistake; the day will come when all of our cycles are complete. The material things we pass on to our kids, are just that, things, and will be gone in a heartbeat. But the lessons we’ve taught and the experiences we’ve left them will last their entire life.”
Charlie was a good friend of mine. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how much he taught me about the whitetail, but also life in general.
Life if full of subtle signs. It could be a a health scare as you near middle age. I’ve had several. Or it could be something as simple as a lazy Saturday flea market excursion. I’m coming fresh off one of those, too, and it was a moment there that had me thinking about Charlie’s words of wisdom.
The morning adventure started out as a simple quest to find a spare fishing pole for my kids as we headed to the lake in search of hungry panfish. It ended with a cold slap of whitetail reality.
The annual countywide flea market was packed with vendors and shoppers. I was expecting to find a lot of the usual overpriced junk when I stepped into the first merchant’s tent. Instead, I was greeted with remnants of deer camps gone by.
It took mere seconds for it all to sink in. Adorning a makeshift wall were shoulder mounts, bleached skulls and plaque-mounted racks of white-tailed bucks. There’s nothing huge here, just your respectable 8- and 10-pointers from yesteryear. Oh, there were above average deer, but I’d guess there wasn’t a rack in the lot that grossed more than 130 inches.
I’d also guess that most of these bucks were taken 30, 40 maybe even 50 years ago. They were undoubtedly trophies for the hunters who bagged them. The shopkeeper had no history with them or the men who took them. He merely picked them up at yard and estate sales hoping to flip them for profit at the flea market.
I instinctively laughed out loud when I saw the prices: $75 for yearling racks on plaques; $140 for skulls; $250 and up for shoulder mounts of 2-1/2-year-old bucks. Way too expensive for really old (and really bad) taxidermy work.
But my chuckle was silenced and I sobered when a realization hit me. These were someone’s most treasured hunting memories. And here they are now — practically piled in a heap — on sale at a flea market. It all seemed so cold and unceremonious.
Where did these bucks come from? How hard did the guys have to hunt to bag them? How happy were those guys when they returned to camp with what were surely the buck of the year in their respective camps?
What are the stories behind all of these bucks?
I’ll never know. You’ll never know. And it’s quite possible no one will ever know because, after all, the memories vanished with the hunters. Maybe they died. Maybe they’re in nursing homes somewhere. Maybe they got divorced and had to sell their memories for pennies on the dollar.
Who knows?
The deer hunting lifestyle is something special to be cherished. The venison will feed the family throughout the year. The sunsets; blood trails and camp camaraderie will fuel the soul with a hunger for experiencing it all over again next year, and hopefully many more years to come. The antlers will be temporary reminders of good days afield.
But I do know is this: That flea market experience is proof that legacies are not built upon antlers. They are built upon human relationships. At the end of the trail, we will not be judged on how many “good bucks” we put on the wall.
We will be remembered for how we conducted ourselves, treated others along the way and paid it forward for future generations.
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What are your thoughts on this subject? Here’s a sample of the comments from my Facebook post on this topic:
Joe Hogan I think it’s profound. I love my mounts and the memories they represent, but I can’t expect anyone else to get it. When I’m gone, the mounts will be “trash” to deal with. Who I was and how I treated people will remain as my legacy. Keep that in mind when you put antlers ahead of what matters.
William Bowers I imagine that’s what happens to most trophy mounts eventually, especially deer. They mean little except to the hunter who took them.
Kyle Scanlon Years ago I drove through a neighborhood on a Tuesday afternoon and there were 6 deer mounts, a couple fish, and some ducks all on a blue tarp in a yard with a for sale sign. I stopped and the woman came out of the house. She said $200 (or something like that) for all. Turns out it was a divorce.
Dan Loken Always a ton of deer mounts at flea markets. Very sad. I have purchased a bunch over the years. I look for vintage ones. I have 3 hanging in my cabin. 2 150 inch dark racked 8 points, and a really cool dark racked 155 inch 10 point. figured it was only fitting they reside in a cabin in northern Wisconsin.