By Kate Murphy
If you visit Alison Raleigh at home, in Hoboken, N.J., one of the first things you’re likely to notice is all the taxidermy: There’s a deer head in the bathroom, a stuffed pheasant and crow on the mantel, a ram’s head in the study. She bought a lot of it on eBay. But some of it she made herself.
“I was collecting all this taxidermy,” said Ms. Raleigh, 40, a stay-at-home mother of two. “Then I thought, why can’t I just do it? I’m not squeamish.”
There are those who may say that do-it-yourself taxidermy is taking D.I.Y. just a little too far. But not Ms. Raleigh, and many others like her, who are learning this time-honored tradition in classes offered at a variety of venues across the country, including natural history museums, nature centers and even restaurants.
And doing your own taxidermy, Ms. Raleigh was quick to add, is the only way you can make sure the animals are ethically sourced.
That’s right: For those who want to make sure the moose and deer mounted on their walls have been treated at least as humanely as the free-range cows slaughtered for their burgers, there is now ethical taxidermy.
Mickey Alice Kwapis, 23, a self-taught taxidermy instructor in Cleveland, Ohio, is one of its proponents. The animals she uses — rabbits, squirrels, mice, guinea pigs — were not killed for art’s sake, she said. They were raised and painlessly euthanized to serve as food for reptiles and large cats. Ms. Kwapis gets them from a company called Rodent Pro, which supplies animals to pet stores and zoos.
Ms. Kwapis holds her classes in unlikely places like tattoo parlors and restaurants. “As long as you clean up afterward, there’s nothing to say you can’t hold a taxidermy class anywhere,” she said. “After all, a rabbit has less bacteria than a chicken.”
In addition to teaching her students how to stuff the animals, Ms. Kwapis instructs them on how to prepare the meat for eating, although, she added, “I actually have a lot of vegans in my classes.”
She also shows them how to preserve the organs in jars (if that aesthetic appeals to them) and how to clean the bones to make jewelry or grind them up for fertilizer. “Nothing goes to waste,” she said.
Ms. Raleigh, who learned taxidermy earlier this year in classes held at the Morbid Anatomy Museum in Brooklyn, takes a similar approach. Like Ms. Kwapis, she gets her animals from reptile feed companies. And she makes use of the entire animal, feeing the innards of the mice she uses in her mounts to her dog.
“My dog is on a raw-food diet,” she said.
What exactly constitutes ethics when it comes to taxidermy, however, depends on whom you consult. Allis Markham, 31, sees it a little differently.
“Using animals killed for pet food is the same to me as factory farming,” said Ms. Markham, an assistant in the taxidermy department at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles and owner of Prey Taxidermy, which creates mounts for Hollywood productions and offers how-to courses. “Just like the meat I eat, the animals I use for my taxidermy can’t have been raised in an industrial way.”
Ms. Markham gets animals for her classes — typically starlings, quails, squirrels, ducklings and raccoons — from pest control operators who would otherwise have disposed of them in a landfill or from game breeders after the animals have died a natural death. The larger animals she uses in her film work, like deer and peacocks, were either killed by hunters for food or died of natural causes in captivity.
“There’s no shortage of invasive species killed for abatement or animals that died naturally,” Ms. Markham said.
But she draws the line at stuffing people’s departed pets. “I’m not going to be able to put life back in its eyes the way the owner knew and loved it,” she said.
Ms. Markham has decorated her own home with some 30 mounts, including a black bear, impala, antelope and jackal buzzard. Her husband, David Iserson, a writer who has worked on “Mad Men” and “Saturday Night Live,” has been “incredibly supportive of my work,” she said. “And incredibly grossed out.” More....