Occupational Hazards: Not the stuffed animals you sleep with

It was the closest I had ever been to a mountain lion.

His ears were turned back, mouth closed, and eyes wider than mine. It was a staring contest. He was figuring me out. I blinked and snapped my eyes open even wider than before, but he remained where he was — lying on a worktable with his legs stiffly fixed in a standing position.

I spent three hours in Dale Manning's taxidermy shop before I mustered the courage to run my fingers through the gentle fur of the cougar. Why was I afraid of a dead animal? My irrationality came from the talented taxidermist who makes you respect and fear the animal well after it is dead.

Manning has owned Custom Bird Works for 23 years. He and fellow taxidermist Tyler Hoffman have preserved some rare creatures (a polar bear!) in company with Montana's ducks, deer and bears. This week I assisted in the mounting of a cape buffalo, one of the most dangerous animals in Africa.

For a shop full of dead things, there was very little odor. Only in the walk-in freezer and on the salt table did the faint aroma of blood and muscle linger. After the salted hides dry, they are sent to a tannery and return ready to be stretched over a foam form that is the base of all taxidermy.

The foam figure of the buffalo was prepped: horns attached, glass eyes set and modeling clay surrounding areas that will be heavily detailed. Starting at the nose, Manning and Hoffman pulled the brown wiry-haired hide onto the form. "It's just like getting dressed in the morning," said Manning, giving a finishing tug on the back only a minute later.

Each following step dramatically furthered the visual resurrection of the buffalo. Using a metal wedge, Manning helped me force the extra skin around the lip into the foam like tucking in a bed sheet. Using his finger he packed in the nostrils and moved onto the eyes. Natural creases in the hide acted as guidelines for recreating the wrinkles around the eyes and forehead while modeling clay underneath held the sculpted detail.

Manning, having never seen an African buffalo in person, referenced pictures to position the ears just right under the large curled horns. After the sculpting, Hoffman sewed up the back cut in the hide. His rapid, easy stitch deceived me until I took the needle. The tough hide challenged the strength of my fingers, but I forced through, pulling the thread tight and gaining more respect for the buffalo.

I entered Manning's shop assuming a gruesome process awaited me. I left wishing I could be one of the lucky employees. Taxidermy, to my dismay, is a hard business to break into. In Manning's shop it takes coming around for years and learning the craft.

Manning stepped back from shaping the wrinkles around one eye. "This is going to be a frickin' awesome mount and that makes me happy," he said, almost to himself.

linds.sanders@umontana.edu