Men and women have different decorating styles. Especially in the South. This became apparent to me when I moved here from the New England states. Believe me when I say we did not have one animal head, torso, skin, antler, or hoof displayed in our home during my childhood. I grew up in a time when moms still hosted Tupperware and crystal parties. Ceramic animals, shag carpets, and flowered wallpaper filled our home. My Dad was your basic business guy. He grew up in Boston gaining street smarts instead of trophy bucks. Things like camping and hunting didn't make the list of leisure activities in his book.
My husband, on the other hand, is who I want to be with when technology goes south and people get hungry enough to eat their neighbor's pet ferret. I do have to say I would fight to the death for the last scoop of Columbian roast coffee. The deer meat, however would be plentiful, courtesy of my husband. Though I appreciate his ability to provide, I just want to buy my meat from the store without ruining the magic of how it got there. I also don't need to honor the butcher by displaying a cowhide collage in my living room.
Nowadays I find myself stepping over recurve bows, empty gun cases, camouflage boots, hunting magazines, hats and coveralls. I have discovered furry things in my freezer that require dental records for identification purposes. Experience taught me to ask my mother in law what kind of "beef" is in the Beef Stroganoff. After being fooled several times, my naiveté wore off, stripping her of power.
My den/office/sewing/craft room hosted a garage in its former life. I needed a multi-purpose room to draw attention away from the decor. I am the proud owner of two deer heads (including the shoulders) and a full size stuffed turkey poised on a log atop the beautiful gun safe my husband insisted we buy. Yes, the whole bird. Okay, I can sort of see the pride thing from his side. But does he have to put them in my house? Don't serial killers keep trophies? Jeffrey Dahmer meets Christopher Lowell. Couldn't we just have the antlers and a turkey feather? Maybe a beak? Have you ever seen turkey legs and feet up close? You'll never eat another fried turkey leg at a state fair.
I try to discourage visitors. Well-meaning, innocent church members frequent our front step. Their reactions never vary.
The men come in and say, "Wow! Look at that! Your husband kill those? He must be quite the hunter." jabbing his wife in the ribs. "How'd you like something like that in our house, Honey?"
The women always stands in shock for a few seconds, mouth agape.
They look at me with pity and say, "Bless your heart." I just smile and offer them iced tea.
Nothing short of a Dumpster dresses up a deer head. You can try hanging laundry or Christmas lights on them but the hunter gets angry. One of my friends even named the unfortunate pair decking the walls of her living room. When we had rabbit-ear antennas on our television, I often adjusted them to attain the lesser poor quality reception. When my husband was out of the house, an antenna frequently found its way up a deer nostril, since the TV sat due south of a buck.
I hope they get fleas or something so we can put them in a yard sale. I told my husband if he brings one more head home, his will be the next one on the wall. We need better reception anyway.