This is a picture taken by the infrared cameras my dad and his brothers put in the bits of forest they own. They are hunters, see, and it is hunting season. I don't think my father ever killed a moose, but he did shoot a deer, a beautiful one whose head is now on top of the fireplace downstairs. My mother doesn't like it, as she finds hunting trophies a bit tacky. Last time I went home, at Christmas, I discovered that someone else did not like the head one bit: my godson. Moose, for some reason, are his favorite animals, he LOVES them. He also loves other cervids, as he does not really make a difference between them. So he saw the deer's head on top of the fireplace, looked at me with horrified eyes and asked: "Is that a real moose's head?
" I told him: "No, that is a real deer's head, but the same family, yes.
" And then he asked, more horrified: "Who did this?
" I told him that my father did, that years and years ago he went hunting and shot a deer. He said, emphatically: "Well, I think people who kill moose and deers are really nasty!
" It made me smile, because he was very sweet. And since then I have wanted to make this a great unknown line. Looking at the pictures my father sent of the moose, I thought it was a good time. I did not repeat this to his own dad, because he would have probably told him off. But hey, I can blog it.
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