I just dropped a chunk of change on having a glorified chicken taxidermied. And you can bet your last dollar that that’s a sentence I never thought I would write, but here we are.

When it came to hanging dead stuff on the wall, Steve was always particular. He only had a buck mounted if it was officially trophy sized. While I have stacks and stacks of turkey tails, only two of them every made it to a full mount, and they are positively gigantic. The one that he had mounted in full flight takes up most of the wall in the living room and is barely out of reach of the cats, and then only because they’re not terribly ambitious.

Even though he harvested several bears, he deemed them too small for anything other than a rug. He had in mind the type of floor mount that he wanted and was waiting patiently for the right sized ursine to show up. The bobcat made it to the wall both because it was the first one he’d ever caught, and because he knew the likelihood that he’d get another one in such good condition was slim.

The final critter that he had mounted, one that he trapped only days before he died, was a fisher. He had already planned for that, and seeing through his “bucket list” trophy seemed to be the least we could do. Although he never saw the final product, the day we put “Carrie” up on the wall closed a circle for all of us.

So, as you can see, I’ve reconciled myself to the placing of critters on the wall, but figured that I was done with it, at least for a while.

G has followed in Steve’s footsteps. His very first mount was a bobcat. Not only was it his first year trapping, but the cat was a particularly nice specimen. Although he’s shot several deer, including one with Steve’s bow, he thought them much too small for anything other than a European style mount, which for those of you who don’t know, is simply a cleaned skull with the rack on display.

Steve did surprise him with a fish mount one year, after a particularly memorable fishing trip and the landing of a gigantic muskie. Steve had captured G landing the fish on video, and I can hear G’s little boy voice, brimming with exhaustion and pride, saying “I played him hard” every time I look at the fish.

What I’ve come to realize over the years is that mounting those things on the wall isn’t just about preserving a notable animal, it’s about preserving a memory and a moment in time, as well. Ergo, I found myself in the position to want something special mounted and hunt on the wall.

Steve, G and Duncan had brought home dozens of birds. Pheasants, woodcocks, chukars, even few grouse. Most of the time the remains went right in the trash and the meat went into the pot to be made into noodle soup or potpie. Steve saved a few wings and tails to use for training the dogs, but for the most part, since pheasants are stocked birds and they were bringing home four every weekend, it seemed ludicrous to spend money on stuffing what was basically a fancy chicken.

However, as we went through last fall’s season, and G and I spent more and more time hunting together, and Duncan led us through some very memorable chases, I wanted something to commemorate our time out in the field. Now that G is 16 and able to hunt on his own, I know that he will probably spend a lot less time dragging me out to hunt with him. Of course, by “hunting” I mean running like mad after him and the dog, trying to keep up with his leggy 6-foot, 5-inch frame and a dog on a mission, usually getting there much after the action, thankfully, and never, ever actually hunting for anything other than the parking lot myself.

We had the good luck to have an incredibly beautiful bird end up in his game bag, and looking at the beautiful blue feathers on its back and its incredibly long tail feathers, I felt like this bird deserved a little more than being used as training fodder. “How about if we get this one mounted,” I asked G. “I guess if we were going to get one mounted, this would be a good one,” he said, cautious about violating Steve’s code of what deserves to go on the wall.

So, off to the taxidermist went the bird. We had decided on a flight style mount, and if G ever gets a predator worth mounting, we may try to incorporate the bird into a tableau with it. But we’ll see. For now, it’s displayed well out of reach of the cats, and in a room that the dogs seldom venture to. I expect Duncan would have much the same reaction as he did the first time he saw it!

It is a beautiful bird, and a complement to the outdoorsy décor that G has chosen for his bedroom. As he took care hanging it up, I could tell that he was confident in our decision to get it mounted. I’d like to think that Steve would be proud of us for finding a way to make this work and wouldn’t mind the fancy chicken taking up wall space, or the bill that came along with it. For me, it’s a lot more than a stuffed animal.

It’s a symbol of how G, Duncan and I all managed to move on and honor the legacy that Steve left.

It’s me not giving up and turning Duncan over to someone who was better suited to keeping him in the field. It’s about sharing that time with G and allowing him to teach me things. It’s about watching him forge a new partnership with Duncan. It’s me, putting aside years of strongly disliking hunting and finding the parts of it that I could enjoy and share with G.

I know I’ll never replace Steve in that capacity, and I wouldn’t want to, but at least I’m giving G the chance to get out there and follow in his dad’s footsteps.

Life With Liz is published on Saturdays in the Times News.