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A Brief History of an Epically Underrated Outdoor Enthusiast


  





 

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The year is 1843 and the country is Norway. We’re up in the Jotunheim Mountains where the air is crisp and the winds are high. It’s mid-November. The height of the reindeer hunting season. Tucked in a deep ravine is the greatest reindeer hunter in all of Norway: Tor Fløttum. And Tor Fløttum always gets his deer.    


    Fløttum often spent autumns stalking herds of reindeer up in the mountains with only the compan025ionship of his rifles and his dogs. After bagging his share of the herd, Fløttum would strike his tent and head home for the winter. He had one wife, twelve sons and zero daughters. Each of whom he taught expert marksmanship and taxidermy. Before they were ten years old, he required all of his boys to learn the art of final fleshing, salting and skull boiling.


    When Fløttum wasn’t slaying reindeer, he was building huts with his bare hands along Lake Fløttum. That’s right. He named a lake after himself. Not much is known about Tor Fløttum. In fact, there’s only one article on him that exists in the entire English language*, but we felt a responsibility to celebrate this unsung Norwegian sharpshooter and highlight his dedication to the great outdoors and the wild animals that roam it.


If you’re so inclined, you can visit Tor Fløttum’s grave in the Vaga churchyard in the town of Murudal. The grave will be easy to spot. It features a soapstone monument with a pack of wild reindeer in flight, and if you look closely, you’ll notice a bullet soaring through the air. That’s Tor’s final shot.




*According to Kyle. This claim is otherwise unverified.


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