Chapter XIV

PRINCIPLES OF UNIVERSAL APPLICATION IN MOUNTING THE HIGHER VERTEBRATES.

GENERAL REMARKS.--We may assume that anyone who is ambitious to excel in taxidermic work desires to do so by the high character of his productions, and the recommendation they silently give him. I am well convinced that any one who takes the trouble to read this book will welcome the following principles that apply very generally in mounting the higher vertebrates, and are, at all events, intended to increase the average of general excellence and permanency in mounted specimens.

A place in the front rank of taxidermists is not to be easily won. It can only be accomplished by the studious methods of the sculptor, the experience and observation of the field naturalist, and a combination of these with technical and mechanical skill in the laboratory. The painter paints but one side of his animal, and he is not hampered by bulk or measurements. The sculptor blithely builds up his clay model, with neither skin, bones, nor hair to vex his soul. The taxidermist must not only equal the form of the sculptor's clay model, but he must also make it to fit a certain skin with exactitude.

The ideal taxidermist must be a combination of modeller and anatomist, naturalist, carpenter, blacksmith, and painter. He must have the eye of an artist, the back of a hod-carrier, the touch of a wood-chopper one day, and of an engraver the next.

With increased skill on the part of the workers has come increased appreciation on the part of museum officials, and higher salaries. Let me say to aspiring beginners, there is plenty of room at the top, and money and glory to spare for those who get there. But there is no royal road to fortune in this business. Success means years of earnest work and study.

With the understanding, therefore, that we are aiming at perfection, and that "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing," we will endeavor to call attention to a few principles which underlie all good work in taxidermy. At the same time I will try to point out a few of the most common faults generally observable in mounted specimens.

PERMANENCY.--This is the foundation on which every specimen must be built in order to be first class. A preserved and mounted animal that has not enough solidity and stability to stand the test of time is unworthy of a place in any museum or private residence, for its existence is sure to terminate speedily in disappointment, disgust, and loss. During the last eight years the National Museum and American Museum of Natural History have thrown away and otherwise gotten rid of enough stuffed specimens to stock a small museum, and all because of poor and unstable taxidermic work only twenty years ago.

A taxidermist who knows his business can mount a specimen to last ten years or ten hundred, just as he chooses. If you, like a certain taxidermist I once knew, believe in "quantity not quality," then you, like him, can use small and weak supporting irons ("they work so much easier than heavy ones!"), half clean your skins and skulls, ram a skin full of excelsior, straw, paper, and rubbish from your dirt-box, sew it up with long stitches and cheap twine, cram its eyes and nostrils with nasty putty, and insert the cheapest eyes obtainable. Then, while the specimen may look passably well during its first six months, by the end of two years its sides will be a succession of hills and hollows, its seams will be ripped and gaping wide open, its nose will be shrivelled up and shapeless, its ears will look like dry autumn leaves; it will lean over helplessly to one side, and will also have settled down upon its feet until they are shapeless deformities.

This is no fancy picture, for it fairly represents the condition of many a buffalo, deer, and moose that I have been called upon to either dismount, remount, or destroy. A dishonest taxidermist may slight the interior work of a specimen and have it escape detection for six months, or even a year, but time soon tells the story. Dishonest or careless work, like murder, will out. In a bird, it expresses itself in a look of roughness, and a general falling away from grace at all points.

To secure perfect stability and permanence in a mounted specimen, observe conscientiously the following principles in its construction:

1. Pare every skin down thin, so that its shrinking power will be reduced to a minimum. This will prevent its seams from opening.

2. Poison with the utmost thoroughness, so that even though the specimen should chance to stand unprotected for years where insect pests are thickest, they can find nothing to feed upon in its hair or feathers.

3. Use heavy supporting irons or wires, as heavy as the specimen will accommodate without sacrificing the form and position of legs and feet. The fault of using the lightest possible supports is entirely too common, and is so thoroughly reprehensible in a taxidermist that it becomes a vice.

4. Make the mechanical structure of every specimen (_e.g._, the fastening together of the body, limbs, head, neck, and tail), so firm that the rigidity of all is complete. It is then, and only then, in your power to place any member of the body in a desirable attitude and have it remain fixed.

5. Every portion of the skin should rest upon a _firm, smooth_ surface of clay, excelsior, straw, or tow, according to circumstances. If there are lumps under the skin, they will appear soon after it is dry, and destroy its smoothness. If there are hollows, the result will be the same.

6. The larger the specimen the thicker is the skin, and consequently the harder and more unyielding should be the material it rests upon. Do not make a manikin with hoop iron and burlap, and a little loose filling between that and the skin, for specimens so mounted nearly always come to grief. If you stuff a skin with straw, excelsior, or tow, pack the filling in a solid mass, for with the lapse of time all such materials are bound to shrink, no matter how hard you make them at first. The shrinkage of straw is often remarkable and highly disastrous.

ATTITUDE.--On this subject no fixed rules can be offered. To one fact, however, which should always be borne in mind by the preparator, I must call special attention, and that is as follows: Animals of all kinds, even in a state of nature, and entirely of their own volition, often assume attitudes that are highly ungraceful, unpleasing to the eye, and anything but fairly representative of the creature's form and habits. This being the case, do not make the mistake of concluding that because you have seen a particular animal assume a particular attitude, it is "natural," and therefore you can do no better than to reproduce that attitude in the specimen you are mounting. No, a thousand times no. This mistake will lead to the reproduction of many an ugly attitude, even though like life itself.

Every animal is capable of assuming scores of different attitudes, and from all these you should _choose the one which is most strikingly characteristic of the subject_, most truly representative, and which does the animal the same sort of justice that you seek at the hands of the artist when you go to have your own picture taken. On such occasions you do not lounge ungracefully, nor "stand stoop-shouldered," nor look listless; you stand erect, at your full height, and look your very best. Make your animal do the same.

For your own picture you do not assume a violent and tragic attitude, nor anything strained. You stand or sit at ease, quietly but intently regarding something in particular; or your attitude may with equal propriety represent a moment of rest in the course of some quiet action. Pose your mounted specimens according to the same principles, and the results will be most satisfactory to all. The choice of an attitude depends wholly upon your artistic instincts, "upon your eye," so to speak. Choose that one which is most graceful or grand, and is at the same time truly characteristic of the subject. To my mind, the attitude taken by an animal when startled by visible or suspected danger, is the one _par excellence_ in which it appears at its best when mounted. Under such conditions the animal always stands fully erect, head aloft, and with every sense keenly on the alert. The next best attitude is that which represents an animal quietly walking or climbing, according to its habits and modes of progression.

The subject of groups and grouping will be considered in full later on in this work.

PROPORTIONS.--On this point a single observation will be sufficient. The taxidermist often receives, from the zoological gardens and menageries, specimens that are very thin in flesh. In mounting an animal, do not let your knowledge of anatomy run away with your judgment, art, and even nature itself, by producing a tiger, panther, zebra, or buffalo with all its ribs showing, and its scapula, pelvis, and vertebral column all standing out in bold relief. Unless the individuals of a given species are always scrawny, I pray you, for the sake of truth and justice, do not make your solitary representative of that species look like a candidate for special honors at a bone-yard.

Let me assure you, on the honor of a hunter, that animals in a state of nature are nearly always well fed and plump-looking, and show very few bones. It is easy to make ribs on a clay-covered manikin, but do not do it on a wild animal, unless you deliberately intend to produce a starveling. According to its nature, make every animal look well-fed and in good condition, _but not fat_. It seldom happens that a wild animal in a state of nature grows really fat, but it is still more seldom that one looks under-fed and poor. If fatness is a special characteristic of a species, then fat let it be, but scrawny never.

Above all things, avoid in your birds and quadrupeds the half-filled body which makes the subject look as if it had been eviscerated. The abdomen is always convex, not concave.

THE USES OF CLAY AS A FILLING MATERIAL.--The value of clay in the mounting of mammals, reptiles, and fishes can hardly be overestimated. Previous to 1880 its use among the taxidermists of my acquaintance was unknown, and when its value was discovered and put to general use by the writer, in the year mentioned, many of my rivals predicted all manner of evil from it. They declared it would destroy skins, go to dust within them, become soft mud in damp weather, crack, etc. I persisted in its use, disproving all evil prognostications, and now its general use really marks a new era in American taxidermy. By means of this common and cheap material it is not only possible but easy to mount a horse, a seal, a hairless dog, a turtle, snake, fish, or any other animal, with absolute accuracy in every detail of form and size. Not only is this true, but, so far as I can discover, there is no other material than clay with which these results can be accomplished. For covering manikins, coating the skulls of large animals, and for filling in the nose, mouth, eyes, and ears, it is everything that could be desired. With it a stretched skin,

"A world too wide for his shrunk shank,"

can be worked together on the clay-covered manikin, and reduced in size until it fits without the slightest visible wrinkle, or any cutting out such as used to be necessary by the old methods.

To prepare clay for use, take the clean, worked chunks of soft potter's clay (which costs about two cents per pound, and should be quite free from sand and grit), put the right quantity in a pail, and pour a little water upon it. With the hands knead it until the water is taken up, and it becomes as soft as dough. It will, of course, be quite sticky, and in this state is altogether too soft to use except to cover a large manikin, in which case it must be soft enough to spread easily with the hand. For ordinary use, however, chop up finely, with the hatchet, some clean hemp tow of long fibre, and mix it thoroughly with the clay, which can be done only with the hand. This makes the clay more stiff, about like soft putty, and of the proper consistency for filling into feet, cheeks, eyes, mouth, nose, etc. If the clay is too soft, you will have difficulty in making it retain the proper form under the skin. If it is too stiff, it balls up, and you can not work it along under the skin from one part to another. When you learn to make it of just the right consistency it works to perfection, no matter where you put it, and will forever retain the form your fingers give it by pressure from without. Elsewhere will be given more detailed advice in regard to the various uses of clay.

COLORING.--The time was when American curators held it sacrilege to paint the soft parts of birds, and the hairless portions of certain mammals. For my part, I have always fought that idea unconditionally, in season and out of season, and I am glad to say that within the last eight years it has been utterly abandoned. Clearly, it is better to reproduce the colors of soft parts as accurately as one can, rather than let them remain in a colorless, dry, and mummified condition, hideous to the eye and meaningless to the understanding. By all means let us color everything that has color in life, though the heavens fall. Ascertain in some way what the color should be (this can often be done by reference to books with colored plates), then paint accordingly. Paint with turpentine and oil, rather than with oil alone, which leaves an unnatural gloss. You can tone down any oil color, however, by stippling it with a stipple brush dipped in a pan of dry color, or plaster Paris. The taxidermist who can paint the exposed parts of his specimens accurately and artistically has a very powerful advantage over all those who can not. This subject will also receive special attention elsewhere.

GENERAL FINISH.--In all work on specimens, cultivate a delicate and artistic touch, and then leave its impress upon everything you do. Do not leave a specimen looking as if a coal heaver had finished it. Work at it, and keep on working at it until it is perfect; and then go back to it the next day, and work at it some more! There is no inferno too deep or too hot for a slovenly, slatternly taxidermist. The fault with such workers usually lies not so much in their lack of skill as in their lack of patience and the dogged stick-to-itiveness that conquers all difficulties, no matter whether they come singly, in platoons, or by divisions. Delicacy is just as essential in the production of good work as originality and strength.