Norman Hurd worked at the post office in White River Junction for 33 years before retiring in 2001. A year later, he started making light fixtures with deer, moose and elk antlers that are seasonally shed. The following is an edited interview.

Hunters always seem to keep antlers around. Trust me, if you shoot one, you never get rid of them. My wife (Linda) will have to deal with them after I’m gone. A lot of women aren’t crazy about antler things but my wife likes it, so that’s kind of nice.

We went over to Lake Placid seven or eight years ago and antler art is pretty prevalent over there. I said, “Gee, I think I can do some of that.” That’s how it started. Then I picked up a video on how to do it that I saw on one of the hunting channels. But you can only learn the basics from that, and it’s trial and error from there.

I learned pretty quick that antlers stink when you drill into them. The first one I started drilling, my wife came running downstairs saying, “What is that smell?” I didn’t get even halfway through the first antler before moving out to the garage. Now I wear a double- cylinder mask and goggles when I’m drilling.

It’s a lot like a jigsaw puzzle. Very seldom is it the first antler you pick up that fits. I just finished a big elk chandelier for a couple that’s more than 8 feet across. I don’t know how many hours we spent just figuring out how it was going to be set up to make it look right. People think it’s an easy thing to do, but it’s not.

I did one for one lady who had lost her husband. He had a lot of antlers just sitting around, and she said she’d like to have something done with them. I made a table base for her and she just loved it; she thanked me so much.

Obviously you do something like this to try to make a few bucks, but that stuff is much more important to me: to do it for someone who’s really thrilled with your work and it means something to them.

I don’t know what’s going on, but the Lord’s been good to us and we’ve been pretty busy.

I love doing it because I like antlers, of course. Every piece is a little different and every antler is a little different, so it’s not the same-old, same-old. I did that for 33 years at the post office because I needed to, but this is something I really enjoy. It’s never the same, and that’s a lot of what I like about it.

I’ll work up in the garage and my wife will come ask me, “Are you coming in for lunch?” I’ll say “Oh, is it that time already?” She’ll say, “You working?” I’ll say, “I guess you could call it that.” That’s the beauty of it for me.