I remember looking up at the forest trees that reached up toward the sky.
They used to scare me if I thought about it too long.
We would be giddy if we saw a squirrel or a deer.
My younger brother would run around catching anything creepy and crawly.
We loved the mountains but never felt the need to go camping or hunting. so, it shouldn't really be a surprise that animals that have been killed and then stuffed, scare me to death.
There was a big stuffed Elk in the lodge we used to visit.
Standing right next to the front door.
You would walk in and BAM there's a giant dead animal looking right at you.
My parents have a picture of us in front of the dead creature.
|oh the pink culottes...*facepalm*|
I'm pretty sure I was on the verge of tears, because who wants to be forced by their parents (who are supposed to love you) to stand next to a corpse that may or may not come back from the dead and eat your brains.
Dude it's about to bite my little brother's head off!
Now I live in a state, where having animal corpses as decor, is not only common place, but it's encouraged.
Slowly, I have learned to adapt to my surrounding.
Otherwise, I would never go anywhere, ever.
And I'm not cut out for the crazy cat lady life.
I am becoming more comfortable in homes with hunting trophies, bear skin rugs,
restaurants with dead bears in the middle of the room,
(okay that one is pushing it, who wants to see that while they eat?)
and airport corridors with every arctic animal welcoming you from behind plate glass, letting you know that you have undoubtedly landed in Alaska.
The same cannot be said for my fear of whales. *shudder*