The Great Horned Owl

If you want to own a slightly abused owl head follow these steps:
Go on a beer-soaked drive through the valleys around Hardisty with a coworker. Knock over willow trees and smell the boggy lowlands of the Battle River. Lock up the hubs. Trace the path of a bull moose through the muddy grass. Watch a beaver in the dusk, hear his teeth at work. Talk about the languid switchbacks of the Battle, of the quiet. Go back to the farmhouse. Investigate a lifetime of hunting seasons arranged in no particular order staring down at you. Drink and cuss about The Work. And when your host explains that his dogs tore apart the rest of the stuffed owl but offers you the head, accept gratefully.