A Moment in Time

There is an air of familiarity in my newly renovated office. Late last week my 2009 Nebraska Whitetail mount arrived via UPS. As it is only the second full head mount that I've done in my hunting career it hangs predominately as you walk in.

I find myself quite humbled in its presence actually. No, it's not a monster or world record, fact is many may have passed on the opportunity-and normally so would I. As you may recall from an earlier story I was hunting a piece of state land with the hopes that my hunting buddy Rich would get a reasonable shot at a mature mid-western buck. As we worked our way back to the boat that brought us to our hunting spot I trailed Rich giving him every opportunity at a first shot. As it happened I worked my way a little bit too far to the left and ended up on an adjoining point and not where the boat was. As I turned back to the path that had led me to that spot, three (3) Whitetails jumped up from a daytime bedding spot and within seconds I "incorrectly" identified a set of antlers as a 3x3 and before he could get up a head of steam the harvest was over.

As I worked my way around the ditch to get a better look at the buck I was pleasantly surprised to see a 10 point (due to split brow tines)! Although not the trophy that I had hoped Rich would land, it still would have been a fine harvest for him as well.

I stated earlier that I feel "humbled", it has been a long time since I stepped foot afield with my father. When he passed in 2000 I had the opportunity to recall and relive many of the hunting days with him. None any better than the last-all were good days!


At 53 years old I am privileged to have hanging on my wall a link to a childhood dream. I spent most of my hunting days in my father’s tow however until this opportunity, in spirit of course, I harvested my first Nebraska Whitetail with my father beside me. Although it has only been hanging for a couple of days it almost brings a tear to my eye when I walk into the room. It's a connection if you will, to the days of holding my father’s hand, cleaning our shotguns together or just sitting on the front porch with a glass of iced tea. I miss him!

As I sit here tonight I fully understand how silly this all seems to my wife and daughter, Jersey born and raised, not much on hunting anything. I admit that it isn't a trophy most would spend much time on, let alone wait a year to have it mounted. I feel almost foolish as I send out the picture to my hunting buddies-probably the smallest buck harvested amongst the group in some time. But they don't know my Dad!

This one's for you Dad, the dry spell is over and yet another fond memory of hunting past shares my life and times. It's a connection of sorts, a look back into the past, a memory that just happened. As I often say to Rich: It's a Moment in Time!

This fall I head to Saskatchewan, the land of dreams, yet there stands nothing in those woods that can link me to my father. The harvest, should there be one, will be enjoyed as a new event-a New Moment in Time, none however will replace the attached Nebraska Buck in bringing me back to a moment with my Father.