legends · 4 min read ·
Commission Sheet
A taxidermist is sent a fox that has already been mounted, with a notebook inside it in his own hand.
**Mortimer & Pell, Taxidermists — Commission Sheet 0217**
**Client:** Dr. H. Linden · **Specimen:** Red fox (*Vulpes vulpes*), adult male · **Pose:** standing, head turned
**Received:** 12 September · **Condition on receipt:** fresh, frozen · **Price quoted:** £480
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 12 September)**
Specimen received frozen, wrapped in a feed sack, with a note: *Road casualty, Hollin Road, found by me. Please mount as if alive.* The fox is a fine animal, in good coat, no damage to the pelt. Cause of death appears to be impact. Skull intact.
Thawed overnight. Began skinning on the 14th.
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 14 September)**
When I opened the carcass I found it already prepared. The body cavity had been cleaned, the organs removed, and the cavity packed with wood-wool, tight and clean. A neat suture ran from sternum to tail, in a waxed linen thread I do not use. The work was done by someone better than I am.
The pelt, when I skinned it, came away with the skull, the leg bones and the claws already cleaned and wired. Inside the skin the fat had been scraped and salted.
I have received animals from clients who prepared them themselves. I have not received one that had been mounted before it was thawed.
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 16 September)**
The fox has been standing on my bench since the 14th. I did not put it there. The pelt was off the body, in the salting tray, at close of work on the 14th. When I came in on the 15th, the fox was on the bench, upright, head turned, standing on the board I use for a base. The pelt was on the form. The form was one I did not make.
It was a perfect mount. It was the best I have ever seen. The eyes were glass, amber, with a black pupil, and they followed me round the room.
I telephoned the client. His number is not in service.
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**Client correspondence (H. Linden to Mortimer & Pell, 17 September)**
*Dear Mr. Pell,*
*I apologise for the unusual instruction. I could not explain at the time. I found the fox on the road and I knew it was not an ordinary animal. I had a sense that it had been left there for me. I put it in my car. All the way home I could hear it breathing.*
*Please do not clean the glass eyes. They are not glass. They are not yours to change.*
*I will collect it on the 30th.*
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 22 September)**
I have measured the eyes with a loupe. They are not glass. They are polished, a fine honey-coloured stone, the iris cut into the surface with a very fine tool, and the pupil set deep. They are, on close inspection, human eyes: the shape of the lids, the line of the tear duct, the faint veins at the corners.
The fox looks at me with them. I have turned it to face the wall. In the morning it is facing the room.
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 28 September)**
I have taken the lid off the form. Under the pelt, between the wood-wool and the wire, there is a small notebook in a waterproof bag. Pencil, very neat. It is the fox's. It is the record of a life. The earliest page is dated 1987. The latest is dated this morning.
The notebook is written in my hand. It is a diary of a fox, kept by me, and there are entries for every day I have worked at the bench for the last twenty years.
Entry for 28 September: *The taxidermist found the notebook. He is reading this. He should not be reading this. He should be putting the fox back in the bag.*
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**Client collection record (30 September)**
The client collected the specimen at 15:00. Dr. Linden is a tall man in a green coat. He did not look at the fox. He took it from the bench by the base, carefully, and carried it to the car as if it were asleep, and put it in the passenger seat and belted it in.
I asked him where he was taking it. He said: "Home. It needs to see the road again."
Payment was made in cash, in an envelope, with a note: *Thank you for not cleaning the eyes. They saw you throughout. They are very pleased with the work.*
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**Workshop notes (E. Pell, 2 October)**
I have found a fox on the bench this morning. A small one, a cub, unmounted, sleeping. Sutured from sternum to tail in waxed linen. A note is pinned to its ear: *To be mounted as if alive. Please do not clean the eyes.*
I have taken the commission.