I reckon falling, stumbling or sliding down a mountain will put hickies on most any stock, if things don't go right. Seems to me it's sorta like putting horns up on the wall: A museum of memories.
Looking at the occasional scratch or ding on my"Pets" brings back memories of where and when it happened. What the day was like. The same for the horns. The only immortality anybody has is in the memories of friends and family. As long as I'm alive, there're a bunch of deer who are immortal, who won't be forgotten.
Dings and scratches on the gun or on me are kinda like Merit Badges--ya had to go out and earn'em. A pristine gun is sorta like a couch-potato fella or an undented racecar; never really been anywhere.