PHYSICIAN SPOTLIGHT
DR. LARRY BISHOP’S reverence for the vanquished warriors, for the caribou, elk, zebra, moose, bear, impala, kudu, eland, wildebeest, Dall sheep, bush buck and Cape buffalo that met their match with him, is reflected on how lovingly and realistically prepared are the heads of the departed creatures.
WITH ITS GROVE OF MATURE MANGO TREES, Mediterranean architecture and accompanying tropical landscape, Casa del Sol, Dr. Larry Bishop’s home on South Tropical Trail, looks quite the Florida residence.
However, when a visitor peers inside they journey from the Sunshine State into the African savannah and the rugged mountaintops of North America. Along the walls of Casa del Sol’s television room, a space reminiscent of a hunting lodge, are the mounted heads of the wild animals Bishop tracked around the world.
Dr. Bishop, a dermatological surgeon with MIMA in Melbourne, Florida, enjoys the thrill of the hunt and the spoils of its victory, both the magnificent heads of the beasts he conquered, as well as the meat from their bodies. His choice of avocation sometimes elicits comments from people who question how a physician can engage in killing.
“Of course I hold life sacred,” says Bishop, who specializes in treating skin cancer. “As a healer, my profession consists of finding cancers and saving lives. To many people, hunting seems to serve the opposite purpose.”
Bishop counters that, first, animals aren’t people, and, second, most wild animals die from predation or starvation. Hunters, he contends, respect the animals they stalk. “Hunters revere life in a way that non-hunters simply don’t,” he says.
“I’ve never known a hunter to throw away a venison steak. To a hunter, it becomes a sacred trust to harvest an animal.” Nothing of the prize is wasted.
DR. BISHOP and wife Cindy.
The Bishop clan – wife Cindy and children, Liana and Daniel – always enjoy a year-round freezer full of game, thanks to dad as well as mom, also an excellent shot. Dr. Bishop’s reverence for the vanquished warriors, for the caribou, elk, zebra, moose, bear, impala, kudu, eland, wildebeest, Dall sheep, bush buck and Cape buffalo that met their match with him, is reflected on how lovingly and realistically prepared are the heads of the departed creatures.
His passion for the sport started with the eight-point Texas deer Dr. Bishop bagged during his residency in San Antonio. “It was sunrise and 150 yards away, there he was,” says Bishop.
Nicknamed Buckley by Dr. Bishop’s daughter, the buck became the cornerstone of Bishop’s collection and still holds a place of honor amidst the other trophies. Ultimately, hunting is in Dr. Bishop’s blood, in his genes. “Every male member of my family was a quail hunter,” he explains.
“I feel perfectly comfortable that my place in life is hunting down melanomas and hunting elk.”
BISHOP in Alaska’s rugged Chugach range where he bagged this 220 pound Dall sheep ram.
Anyone who has chased big game will attest that the pursuit requires stamina and determination. To keep in shape and because they enjoy it, the Bishops bike avidly, but a tad too enthusiastically in one recent occasion.
On New Year’s Eve 2007, while training for a bike ride, Bishop was doing repeats on Lake County’s Sugarloaf Mountain. “The third time I did it, I saw a rider who was halfway up the hill,” says Bishop.
Wanting to catch up, Bishop took off after him. “I suddenly felt what felt like heartburn and started getting short of breath,” he says. His left arm and jaw felt strange, too, so Bishop instantly knew what was up. He was having a heart attack. “It was the perfect stress test,” he says. “It unmasked the one artery I had that was narrow.”
With the calm he exhibits when lining up a shot, he scrutinized his options. He knew he needed treatment, but didn’t want to chance it by seeking help in unfamiliar territory on New Year’s Eve. He also didn’t want to alarm Cindy. “I didn’t want to tell my wife and anyhow I was stable,” he says.
En route to Brevard, he stopped at a convenience store and, unbeknownst to Cindy, bought some aspirin and popped some of the pills, bringing out some Pepcid as reason for the visit. Calmly, Bishop continued driving, until he arrived at a fire station off Murrell Road. Only then did he tell Cindy. “It was just a minor setback,” says Bishop. “The only thing that’s changed is that I have to take medicine,” he says. “Now I figure I’m good for another 50 years.”
Bishop approaches work with the same intensity he hunts. “My personality is exactly the same at work,” he says. “I don’t want to become stagnant in my profession.”
Power Paragliding
Skirting Disaster
Hunting and biking aren’t his only passions. He finds similar thrills in kite-boarding, snowboarding, car racing, wake boarding and power paragliding. “They’re exacting and challenging,” he says.
Even though he carefully plans his hunting trips, some of his expeditions have narrowly skirted disaster. Hunting for moose in the Yukon, Bishop became hunting buddies with Tiger Williams, the most penalized player in the National Hockey League. “I didn’t have any idea who he was,” says Dr. Bishop.
Tiger may play a mean hockey game, but his boat loading skills could use some practice. After Bishop shot a moose, Williams frontloaded the boat that was to return them to camp. Bad idea. “It was right before ice up and the water starts pouring in,” says Bishop. “The water was 38 degrees and we were both without life jackets, in hip waders and heavy jackets. We came within an eyelash of sinking.”
Dog Sledding
In Alaska’s Chugach range, a wild and unforgiving area, Bishop spent four days clambering up 2,000 feet of vertical rock that often placed him inches away from eternity. “The climb was intense, because you’re rock climbing carrying 60 to 70 pounds on your back,” says Bishop.
Here Bishop was after the elusive and agile Dall sheep, at first without success, but on the fourth day, he found his goal, a 220 pound ram catching rays on a ridge a four-hour climb away. It was 9 p.m. by the time Bishop and guide Lance Kronberger finished skinning and packing the beast, and for the next five hours, the pair trudged in the dark until, shivering and wet from the falling snow, they admitted defeat and settled in for a miserable night huddled inside a depression on the mountain.
Auto Racing
“We were cold, wet and didn’t have a tent or sleeping bag,” says Bishop. “Everything was so wet we couldn’t even start a fire. I can remember going no more than ten seconds without shivering. I was convinced one of us was going to die of hypothermia.”
The next morning they “swam” through face-deep bush until reaching the Hallet River, which, after five attempts, they finally forded.
These seat-of-the-pants moments fan Bishop’s continuing desire to hunt. “I like the really extreme type of hunting,” he says. “I want to squeeze everything out of the experience. It’s pushing yourself. You never know how tenacious you are until you try. For me, it’s not the kill, it’s the experience.”
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