is what one could imagine a traumatized deer telling his family after straying too near the grounds of Uppark, the late 17th-century mansion perched bracingly on the English South Downs.
Along with its fine collection of paintings and Georgian plaster-work, the house features a two-room outdoors Game Larder, wherein the deer, rabbits, pheasants, doves etc. brought in by the Fetherstonhaugh family hunts were hung until considered ripe enough to eat.
Outside the larder is a rather attractive path made with pebbles, flints
and what, if you look closely, you realize are thousands of deer bones stuck on end.
In one sense it's a wonderful example of making use of every part of the animal you kill. Wasting nothing of the beast is a kind of respect.
But in turning the fact of the kill into decoration, it also transgresses a strong contemporary taboo.
We don't line the route to every McDonalds outlet with steer bones, after all -- not even the short walkway into temples of the carnivorous like St. John.
Maybe we should.