Visit to Horn Hall -Handmade Collage

I had my reservations about taking Roger to the new exhibition at Horn Hall. It is not that I worried he would challenge the various specimens for alpha status. Quite the contrary. Roger was in a fragile place ever since Mavis had hopped the fence to take up with the neighbor's dashing young ram, Ewan. I worried that the room of opulent and mighty antlers would somehow make old Roger feel inadequate. After a leisurely lunch at our favorite spot, Chips & Clippings we went to the exhibition. Roger seemed hesitant upon entering the hall, but that may have had less to do with the remarkable displays than with the fact that the floor was highly polished and not well suited to hooves. It is a testament to his maturity that he did not turn around and leave right then. Instead he moved through the exhibition at a thoughtful pace stopping here and there to admire the narrow, branching horns so different than his own. He stopped and looked up at a magnificent rack rising several feet above the head of a stuffed elk. I bent down and patted his side. "Are you all right, old fellow?" I asked. He snorted, gave himself a shake as if awaking from a dream and made a beeline for the souvenir stand. Twenty euros later we emerged from the hall sporting silly hats and a longing to get back home to greener pastures.