If you’ve ever wandered into a small-town restaurant or tavern, it’s a good bet you’ve seen some ancient, cobweb-covered taxidermy from years gone by. I always reminisce when I see these and wonder what the story behind the hunt was. They also remind me that the hunting adventures that we go on won’t last forever. In fact, there’s a good chance that the team that serves you at those establishments doesn’t know the story behind the 220” double drop-tine buck that peers down on them every single day. Ironically, that same buck may have been a pinnacle moment in a hunter’s life, and that’s why they chose to preserve it with taxidermy.
As the taxidermy deteriorates over time, the experiences behind those hunts are far more likely to be passed down to future generations than the animal itself. Field experiences teach us lessons about nature, ourselves, our family, and our hunting partners. Those lessons impact our legacy far more than the trophy ever will. They help form the core values that are passed down from generation to generation without the need for an estate executor.
I lost another one of my favorite mentors this last weekend. He was at the ripe old age of ninety-one, and most would think that it was “just Eddie’s time to go.” But the reality is, he was helping move a building structure and things were getting a bit sketchy. Instead of letting the young man who volunteered crawl under the structure and adjust something, he chose to do it himself, and the structure fell off the jacks and wrapped up his time here on earth. He’d have wanted it that way—preserving a younger life that is full of potential rather than his own.
You might be surprised to hear it, but Eddie wasn’t a hunter. He and I never knelt next to each other to admire a beautiful mule deer buck we had just harvested or anything remotely like that. But he was an outdoorsman, and he’d be the first to tell you that his character was formed in large part by moments of adventure in the mountains.
When I was fourteen years old and at a very vulnerable stage of my life, it was Eddie who called me and asked if I wanted to take a ride in the mountains on his sandrail buggy that he’d built. At the time, I was at a crossroads of needing to figure out who I wanted to be as a person—a fact that I can only identify with the benefit of hindsight. I was apprehensive about going with him because I thought he might want to question me on why I wasn’t attending church as much and why I was making some of the decisions I was making. But that wasn’t Eddie. We laughed. We talked. We took on hill climbs that I didn’t know were possible. Eventually, he simply said, “Jerrod, I really miss seeing you at church, but I understand that it’s a hard time of life, and if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” No guilt. No lecture. Just a simple, “I miss you and I value you.” I needed it more than I ever could have imagined at that time.
Whether you’re riding on a sandrail, gathered around a campfire, butchering an elk on the side of a mountain, or riding a raft on a whitewater adventure, those conversations hit differently than they do inside the confines of a building. While it might seem like a stretch to compare our Huntin’ Fool team to a priceless, life-changing mentor, I can tell you that our team lives to help you make the most of those mountain moments that we all daydream about. When one of our eighty-plus-year-old clients recently drew a sheep tag, one teammate was literally jumping for joy—she doesn’t even hunt . . . but she gets it because she too loves to spend time outside and understands how important those moments are. Our mission is to help you make the most of that time, so when you finally lace up your boots, shoulder your pack, and head into the mountains, you’re chasing more than an animal—you’re chasing a story you’ll carry for the rest of your life.
Thank you for trusting us to partner with you on that journey!
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