Last night, my wife and I prepared a venison shoulder roast, slow cooked in red wine and apple cider, with mushrooms, carrots, celery, and apples. And as I took the first bite of that fall-off-the-bone flesh, I was met with a wave of memories just as rich as those I experience every time I look up at antlers on the wall. The many hours frozen in a tree, the missed opportunities and close calls, the final, beautiful moment when things magically came together. With every bite, chew and swallow these experiences washed over me again and again, filling me up both physically and spiritually, and finally becoming a part of me. If that’s not a trophy worth hunting for, I’m not sure what is.