I like weird stuff, and I don’t require any particular reason to like it. My cabin is filled with odd things I’ve picked up over the years. Fred the eagle “sculpture” I blogged about a few days ago qualifies in this regard.
I also have the skull of a bison I
picked up from a perhaps too-quiet brick mason who, as a “hobby,” raised
dermestid beetles for cleaning the tissue off bones. I didn’t ask a lot of
questions about his hobby. Regarding the skull, he claimed that someone hired
him to clean it and never returned to pick it up. I try my best not to do any
math regarding the fact that the man who apparently disappeared was also
comprised of some interesting bones.
And, speaking of bones, I have a deer
bone I collected near the cabin. I liked the way the bone was broken—perhaps by
a mountain lion. I stuffed a handful of grouse feathers I similarly gathered
near the cabin inside the bone. And because I’ve also been cursed with the
weird habit of naming everything, I call this little charm “a feathered bone.”
—Mitchell Hegman
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