GENERAL PRINCIPLES INVOLVED IN SKINNING LARGE BIRDS.--In skinning a large

bird you must have room according to your strength and the size of your

subject. You will need the usual materials in quantity, plenty of table

space, and a stout hook depending from the ceiling at the end of a stout

cord, to hang your half-skinned victim upon at a certain stage of the

proceedings.

With but few exceptions, the process in skinning a large bird is, from

start to finish, precisely similar in principle to that for a small one,

which has already been described. When you get the body about half skinned,

and are well started up the back, thrust your hanging hook into the top of

the pelvis, and suspend the bird in mid-air, so that you can work with both

hands. Be careful, however, throughout the whole operation that you do not

allow the weight of the body of the skin to stretch the skin of the neck.

If the head is small enough that the skin of the neck will pass over it,

skin right over it to the base of the beak itself, and proceed in every

respect as with small birds. If, however, the skin of the neck will not go

over the head, then skin the neck as far toward the head as you possibly

can (usually in such cases you can go no farther than the lower end of the

axis or second cervical vertebra), and then cut it off.

The next step is to skin the head. Turn the skin right side out, make a

clean, straight cut from the top of the head straight down the back of the

neck for a sufficient distance to allow the remaining cervical vertebræ to

be drawn up through the opening. It is now a very simple matter to skin the

head and clean the skull.

The wing of a large bird contains, between the elbow and the so-called

"shoulder-joint" (carpus), quite a quantity of flesh lying underneath and

between the radius and ulna. Whatever you do with the wing, _never cut the

ends of the secondaries loose from the ulna_. In spacing and adjusting

those secondaries nature has done something which, to save your life, you

cannot do as well, and if you meddle with her work some one will be sorry.

Slit open the skin all along the under side of this long joint of the wing,

cut out all the flesh from around the radius and ulna, and poison the

interior thoroughly. Put in a little filling of tow or cotton, and sew up

the opening. Even in small birds, except the smallest ones, it is an

excellent plan to slit open the wing on the under side and put some dry

poison on the flesh, without stopping to sew up the cut. Clean out the

flesh and the oil sac from the root of the tail, and poison that part so

thoroughly that any insect who ever dares to think once of harboring there

will instantly drop dead.

A bird like a large heron, with long legs, or an eagle with very thick

legs, should always have the tendons removed from the legs in order to

facilitate curing, and for the mutual benefit of both specimen and

taxidermist when, a little later, the two meet in the laboratory and engage

in a hand-to-hand struggle for supremacy. To accomplish this, cut a slit

lengthwise in the ball of the foot where its rests upon the ground. Cut off

the tendons where they branch and attach to the toes, seize the end of each

large tendon with your pliers and pull it forcibly out of the leg. You can

do this with a fresh bird in about five minutes, whereas in a dry skin that

has been relaxed it will take you much longer. This removes a fine subject

for decomposition, and also leaves the space necessary for the leg wire

when the specimen is mounted. After having removed the tendon I always

give the legs a coat of rather thin arsenical soap, both to cure them and

protect them from insects. Another excellent plan is to lay all such long

legs in a pan of salt-and-alum bath solution for a few hours to thoroughly

cure them.

If there is a layer of fat adhering to the skin, it must be scraped off and

absorbed with corn meal, and scraped again until it is all off. A layer of

fat spoils a skin more quickly and more effectually than any novice can be

expected to believe until he sees for himself, in some of his finest ducks

and brants, just how it is done. If a skin is worth saving at all, it is

worth preserving properly. Grease left on a skin "burns" it.

In making up a skin having a long, slender neck like that of swan, goose,

heron, or crane, it is an excellent plan (when possible) to take a stout

wire, as long as the entire neck and body, wrap a little tow or cotton rags

around it to partly form a false neck, and insert it in the skin. This will

often save a neck from being completely broken in two. Fill the body of the

skin with excelsior, tow, cotton, or _crumpled paper_, which, in distant

jungles, far from civilization, is an excellent thing. In case of need, you

may fill with dry leaves, dead grass, in fact almost anything except wool,

hair, or other animal products. Do not fill the body out to more than

two-thirds its natural size, unless you have abundant storage-room, and

transportation facilities. If filled out full size, large bird skins fill

up boxes and drawers wonderfully fast, and generally it is best to flatten

such skins a little.

[Illustration: FIG. 18.--How to Shape a Heron Skin.]

Large bird skins should always be sewn up. The head must be properly filled

out, and if cut open at the back, that also should have a few stitches, but

not too many, for obvious reasons. In laying out a large skin, if the neck

be long, bend it around to one side as the specimen lies before you on its

back, and lay it on the side of the body along the edge of the wing. If

the legs are long, they, too, must be bent up so that the feet lie upon the

body. The accompanying figure, from a specimen prepared by Mr. William

Palmer, shows just how a great blue heron should be done. The wings must be

carefully placed, the plumage dressed and nicely adjusted, and the finished

skin pinned up in a wide strip of thin cotton-cloth, or anything else you

please, to keep it in perfect shape until it dries.

Of course, a large skin requires plenty of air while it is drying, and

several days' time besides. If such specimens are packed and shipped before

they are dry, mould and destruction will be their portion, and the

collector will do well to flee from the wrath to come. In shipping bird

skins in the East Indies and similar climates, it is customary to solder

them up, air tight, in tin-lined boxes. Dr. W.J. Holland advises me,

however, that dry wooden boxes are good enough if they are tight, and are

first painted over on the inside with melted crystals of carbolic acid.

SPECIAL AND EXCEPTIONAL CASES.--Having fully considered the various

principles involved in making ordinary bird skins, it is now necessary to

note the exceptional cases, and state how each is to be disposed of. It is

my desire to equip the beginner, as far as possible, against every

emergency that is likely to arise in ornithological collecting. For

convenience we will take a few of the avian orders, in their natural

sequence, beginning with the lowest.

THE STRUTHIONES: _Ostriches, Emus, and Cassowaries_.--These great birds are

prime favorites with the showmen, and many a fine specimen often falls most

unexpectedly into the hands of an astonished "local taxidermist," to the

ultimate enrichment of some museum. Happy is he to whom falls a beautiful,

glossy, brown-black cassowary, with head and neck of rich purple, and red

and yellow, and what-not--truly a wonderful bird, and not too large. A full

grown African ostrich is an avian colossus, and his enormous size makes him

quite a serious matter.

With these great birds it is best to open the skin of each leg from the

lower end of the tibia all the way down to the foot, in order to entirely

remove the tendons. Detach the skin from the bone all the way round, and

cure it with arsenical soap and a _little_ alum. The leg should be cut open

on the inside, well back, where the seam will be most out of sight. After

having removed a skin, you will need to keep it soft, sometimes for several

days, perhaps until you can make a suitable manikin, if it is a large

ostrich. Cure the skin with arsenical soap and salt (protecting the

feathers carefully meanwhile), and keep it wrapped up and away from the air

until you are ready to put it on the manikin for the last time; then treat

it with dry alum to make it dry and harden properly.

ORDER SPHENISCI: _The Penguins_.--The penguin of the Antarctic seas is the

king of fat birds, but such magnificent monsters as those brought home by

the Challenger, and now in the British Museum, are worth a long trip to

secure. Mr. Frederick Pearcy, who collected and preserved the specimens,

assured me that it required two men to carry one, and that the removal of

the grease from the skins was a dreadful task. Of the largest specimens,

the huge legs and feet were cut off at the lower end of the tibiæ, and

preserved in alcohol until they could be skinned and cleaned. Since it is

probable that only a very few of my readers will ever visit the rainy,

foggy, storm-beaten and God-forsaken land of the penguin, I will leave the

question of grease removal to the paragraph relating to the Lamellirostres.

LONGIPENNES: _The Gulls, Albatrosses, etc._--The gulls, terns, and petrels

are so beautiful in flight that they are often mounted with the wings fully

spread, in flying attitudes. When a bird is to be mounted thus, the large

wing-bones must not be broken, but simply disjointed and cut loose from the

body at the shoulders. When it is possible to do so, an albatross should be

mounted with wings, outspread, to reveal to the student their enormous

length, and the disproportionate shortness of the primaries and

secondaries. If all the albatrosses in a museum collection are mounted with

closed wings, as they nearly always are, the average observer gains not the

faintest conception of the form and size of the bird in motion--_its normal

condition_.

STEGANOPODES: _The Pelicans_.--The great white pelican is one of the most

satisfactory and even agreeable birds to mount that could possibly fall

into the hands of an able-bodied taxidermist. If I ever adopt a shield and

an assortment of devices with which to cover it, one of the latter shall be

a figure of a huge white pelican rampant; for it was a bird of that

species that gave me a start in taxidermy. It happened in this wise:

The year before I penetrated the walls of my Alma Mater, its venerable

president sought to find among the students an (alleged) taxidermist, or at

least the promise of one. He publicly offered the princely sum of $10 to

anyone who could come forward and mount a bird decently. The gauntlet thus

recklessly thrown down no one could pick up that year, and by the year

following, when I appeared upon the scene, it had grown cold. Like another

Lochinvar, I "came late" for that offer. I had seen one bird skinned and

mounted, and I knew I could do one like it. That was an old, rusty,

second-hand crow. I petitioned to have a chance to "stuff birds," but it

fell on deaf ears. I even went so far as to mount a squirrel, to show what

I could do, and although it was a very fair specimen for that benighted

period, it failed to win.

But one day some good genius sent a dead bird to the president, for the

museum, and with it heaven sent my opportunity. Professor Bessey sent for

me and said, "Now, young man, we are going to see how much you know about

stuffing birds. We've got a specimen for you to try your hand on, and if

you succeed in mounting it decently, you may possibly get an opportunity to

work in the museum." I replied, "Show me the victim."

He took me to his room, and there, spread out upon the carpet, lay an

enormous white pelican. His body was like a great downy pillow, his bill

was as long as a fence-rail, with a great horny knot atop of it, and his

huge yellow pouch would have held a whole school of mackerel, teachers and

all. And what wings! They were full-grown angel's size, and as white and

spotless as Gabriel's own. It seemed like sacrilege to touch them. And such

feet! Enough of them would have covered the college campus. I had never

before seen such a bird, even in my dreams. He really was larger than the

maximum measurements given by Audubon for that species. Professor Bessey

informed me that his name was _Pelicanus erythrorhynchos_. It was not quite

so long as his bill, nor so rough, but it was pretty nearly.

With a pocket-knife, an old misfit pair of pliers, and a smooth, flat piece

of steel that had once been a file, I skinned and mounted that bird, "in

the highest style of the art," as the taxidermic business card always hath

it. I have also faint recollections of a great wad of oakum made into a

body, a thimbleful of arsenic, and a pair of eyes--merely this and nothing

more. As I hope to live, I believe I could feed a live pelican as much

arsenic as I put upon that great skin without even giving him the

stomach-ache; but the bugs seemed to know that was my first effort, and

they have never touched him. I mounted him as the Irishman played the

fiddle at Donnybrook fair, neither by note nor by ear, but, "be jabers, by

main strength," and posed and shaped him by Audubon's superb plate. He was

pronounced an unqualified success. I shaped his future, and he shaped mine

at the same time. When I saw him again, seven years later, he was every bit

as good as new, and I was astonished to find how really good he was. He was

the first bird I ever skinned or mounted, and a lucky bird he was for me.

Had he been a dirty, greasy, old swan, think what a scrape I should have

been in!

LAMELLIROSTRES: _The Ducks, Geese, Swans (and Flamingoes)_.--There are but

two points to be spoken of under this head. The first is that all the birds

of this order must have their heads skinned through a slit at the back of

the head. The other is in regard to cleaning.

All ducks, geese, and swans are very fat, even when they are poorest. Were

they otherwise, they could not live on the water as they do. Nearly the

whole body is enveloped in a firm, tenacious layer of fat, into which the

ends of the body feathers run and take root, and bind the skin itself down

so firmly that it really becomes a part of the fatty layer. To remove the

skin, you must have a keen knife, and by hard labor slice through the fat

as you go. As a general thing, it is slow and tedious work. When you begin,

and all the way as you proceed, use plenty of plaster Paris or cornmeal to

absorb the free oil, and keep it off the feathers.

After the skin is off the body, and before you turn it right side out,

scrape the inside to get the oil off, absorb it with your absorbent

material, and scrape it again and again until the grease is practically

all off, and you have only the skin remaining. This takes work. There is no

royal road to making good duck skins. If you think you can get along all

right by overwhelming the grease on the skin with arsenic and alum, and

venture to leave it half cleaned, you will pay the penalty later, and it

will serve you right. You cannot cure grease with preservatives. You may

fill a fat duck skin half full of arsenic, and yet the oil will ooze out

through the skin on the other side, turning the feathers a dirty yellow

color. The dermestes can eat _every feather_, and also the skin itself,

from the outside, without getting a morsel of the arsenic. The fat simply

acts as an impervious wall between the poison and the skin. Clean a duck

skin thoroughly or else throw it away. It used to be a common thing to see

duck skins with the breast feathers a solid mass of nasty yellow grease

from the oil that had run out from the opening cut, but such specimens are

becoming rare now.

If the feathers get soiled with grease, blood and dirt, wash the plumage

with clean turpentine and a soft tooth-brush, apply an abundance of plaster

Paris, rub it into the feathers, and immediately beat it out with a supple

switch, or piece of stiff wire of proper size. If you have not these

materials, wash the feathers with warm water and a little soap, and dry as

best you can, according to what you have. Manipulate the feathers while

they are drying and they will come out soft and fluffy as in life; but if

left to dry without this, they will remain in a bedraggled, soaked, and

stringy condition. This subject will be fully considered in a separate

chapter (XXV.).

In making up the skin of a duck or goose, a piece of wire must be put into

the neck, with the tow or other filling wrapped around it, or failing that,

the neck filling must be wrapped around a small stick, the upper end of

which is to be thrust forcibly into the skull. The head is large and heavy,

and the neck is very small, so small that the skin will break in two if

there is not a wire or stick run through the body and neck into the head to

support the latter when the skin is being handled. The feet of all

web-footed birds should be spread while drying.

ALECTORIDES: _The Cranes and Herodiones_.--There is but little to add in

regard to birds of either of these orders. The cranes require a slit in the

skin at the back of the head, but the herons do not. The necks of the

latter are very often filled too full in making up a skin, and the neck

filling is often made round, whereas it should always be _flat_, like the

actual neck of the heron or bittern. It is not necessary to remove the

tendons from the legs of the small herons, ibises, etc., but the legs

should always be bent up and the feet disposed of on the body. The feet and

legs of all the above must be treated to a coat of thin arsenical soap, for

the benefit of insect pests.

CHAPTER VIII.

COLLECTING REPTILES.

OPHIDIÆ: _Serpents_.--All the small and medium-sized serpents should be

preserved entire in good, clean, ninety-five per cent alcohol, diluted with

one-half its own bulk of water. If the spirits is not as strong as

ninety-five per cent., then dilute with one-third water instead of

one-half. There should be from two to four incisions made along the median

line of the belly, each one a few inches in length, to make openings

through which the spirits can reach the abdominal region. Give the specimen

plenty of room until it is thoroughly penetrated with the alcohol.

Large serpents must be measured carefully, slit open underneath in a

straight line from the vent up to within six or eight inches of the head,

and completely skinned. A dry snake skin is about as good as none at all

for mounting. I have seen many, but never yet knew of one being mounted

well. By all means preserve all snake skins in spirits, as described above,

or in the salt-and-alum bath. By making a head of cork it is quite easy to

take both the complete skin and skeleton of a large serpent. If the head is

to be mounted with the mouth open, an extra skull must be procured.

LACERTILIA: _The Lizards_.--As with serpents, the small ones should be

opened underneath and preserved entire in spirits, while the large ones, if

alcohol is scarce, may be skinned in the field, and the skins only put into

the spirit-tank for preservation. In putting up specimens entire, the

abdominal opening must be large enough fully to insure the entrance of the

liquid into the abdominal cavity, or otherwise the decay of the intestines

may cause the epidermis to slip from the outside.

CROCODILIA: _The Crocodiles and Alligators_.--A word in regard to shooting

saurians. Go prepared to hunt and kill whatever specimens you require, for

the chances are you will not get any save what are brought to bag with your

own trusty (or rusty) rifle. To kill a crocodile, proceed as follows: Find

where he is in the habit of coming out on the bank for his daily sun-bath;

then, at precisely the right time,

"Come where my love lies dreaming."

Sneak up as close to him as you can, get a position so that you can attack

him broadside on, and post a couple of natives close by, primed beforehand

with instructions to rush forward and grab the scaly monster by the tail as

soon as you fire. Estimate the distance carefully, wipe the perspiration

out of your eyes, aim at the neck-bone, or the vertebral column anywhere in

front of the shoulders, and let drive. If the reptile's body lies still and

his jaws fly wide open, run for him like a quarter horse, for you have hit

his spine, and he is your meat if you only get to him in time to lay hold

of his tail. Take your rifle along, for you _might_ need it again,

particularly if the crocodile is more than ten feet long. If he requires a

_coup de grâce_, give him another bullet in one of his cervical vertebrae,

and the subsequent proceedings will interest him no more.

It is quite a task to skin a ten-foot saurian properly, and to preserve the

skin so successfully that none of the scales will slip off when the time

comes for the skin to be softened and stuffed. My method, which I have

practised successfully with the skins of eleven species of crocodiles and

alligators, is as follows: For the sake of science in general, and the

taxidermist in particular, measure the crocodile carefully and record the

dimensions. Divide the skin along the under side, following the median line

from the throat to the tip of the tail, in one long, straight cut.

Beginning at the end of each middle toe, divide the skin along the bottom

of the foot and the under side of the leg, up to the point where the leg

joins the body, but no farther. Then begin at the edges of the first cut,

and skin as far down the sides of the body as possible. When the legs are

reached, detach them from the body at hip and shoulder without cutting the

skin, and continue on round the body until the backbone is reached and the

skin entirely detached. Sever the head from the neck at the first cervical

vertebra without cutting the skin. Skin out the tongue and remove the flesh

from the palatal apertures and various cavities of the head. Skin each leg

by turning the skin wrong side out until the toes are reached. Leave all

the bones of each leg attached to each other and to the skin itself at the

toes, but cut away the flesh carefully, the same as in skeletonizing.

Remove from the skin as much as possible of the flesh which will be found

adhering to it. When the skin is thoroughly clean, immerse it in a strong

bath of salt and water, and allow it to remain twenty-four to thirty hours.

Then take it out, rub the inside and the leg bones thoroughly with strong

arsenical soap, after which apply powdered alum liberally over the inner

surface, so that not a single spot is missed. Then hang the skin up by the

head (no danger of stretching in this case), and allow it to dry in the

wind and _shade_. When almost hard and stiff, take it down and fold it up

as carefully as if it were a Sunday coat, so that it can be packed in a box

of ordinary dimensions.

Of course small crocodiles, and the skins of larger ones not exceeding six

feet in length, can best be preserved in alcohol, as already described for

lizards. Full instructions for "roughing out" skeletons will be found in

Chapter XXXVII. I will only add to this paragraph the suggestion that of

all the objects that a collector can gather, nothing so well repays in

every way the time and labor spent upon them as a few large, well-made, and

sufficiently hideous skins of crocodilians. They are at once big, ugly,

awe-inspiring, and marketable. The general public is very fond of horrible

animals from far-distant countries, and I always gave it crocodiles galore.

CHELONIA: _Turtles_.--Go where you will in the warm regions of the earth,

you are almost certain to find representatives of this order. In the

tropics the species are very numerous, highly interesting, and often of

commercial value. Many a time your own hunger will be appeased by a tender

steak of green turtle or loggerhead, or a terrapin stew, or a "soft-shell"

fried in batter, or a peck of terrapin eggs dug out of the sand, fresh and

otherwise. The rare and hideous mata-mata of South America will make you a

good meal, and afterward bring you in $25 in hard cash. The hawksbill, with

the valuable "tortoise shell" upon his back, is "a thing of beauty" and "a

joy forever," price, $15. Wherever you go collecting in the tropics or

sub-tropics, turtles are your lawful prey.

_How to Kill a Turtle._--Mr. Lucas says the best way is to do it with

chloroform, by tying a saturated cloth over the victim's head, and keeping

it there until death ensues. This is undoubtedly the most merciful way, but

somehow I never had the chloroform to spare. My plan was to do the killing

in a short, sharp, and decisive onslaught with the knife. With a small,

sharp saw (a dissecting saw with an adjustable back, for the small

specimens), saw through the bridge which unites the shell of the back

(carapax) with that of the under surface (plastron) at B, B (Fig. 19);

then, with the quickest of work, divide the skin around the plastron, as

shown by the dotted line A, A, A, A; with half a dozen quick strokes of the

knife detach the plastron from the flesh of the body, and lift it up until

the interior of the body is exposed. Except for the sawing through the

shell, the rest is but the work of a moment. Now pierce the heart

instantly, and cut the neck in two, which ends all pain at once. The only

merit of this method of killing is that the victim is disposed of and put

beyond the power of pain in about three or four minutes. Very often it is

better to make an incision on the dotted line shown immediately behind the

foreleg, and through this pierce the heart and lungs.

[Illustration: FIG. 19.--How to Open a Turtle.]

The dotted lines in the figure show all the opening cuts that are

necessary. The skin is left attached to the front of the plastron for

apparent reasons, but the plastron is turned up and over the head to

completely expose the interior. In the case of a sea-turtle, which has the

front limbs developed as broad, flat flippers instead of feet, the opening

cut must extend on up the leg, quite out to the extremity of the flipper.

The animal's legs, tail, and neck are now skinned precisely as those of a

mammal would be, with the exception that each of these members is detached

from the body and pulled inward in order to turn the skin wrong side out.

Of course all flesh is to be removed from the animal, precisely as with a

mammal, and unless the skeleton is to be preserved, the shoulder girdles

and pelvis may be cut out with the flesh and thrown away.

Having removed all flesh from the entire subject, wash it clean, and if it

is not to be preserved in alcohol apply arsenical soap and alum to the

skin, putting some of the latter on the outside as well as inside, and make

up the skin otherwise as directed for dry skins of ordinary mammals. The

neck, legs, and tail should have the right quantity of filling to prevent

their shrinking and shrivelling up to the point of unsightliness. Remember

that the specimen may remain as you preserve it, and be studied for years

as a dry skin.

The box turtles are so constructed that when they desire to retire from the

world nothing whatever save the hard shell remains exposed. They cannot be

opened up as described above. It is necessary to meet their wants by simply

sawing a big rectangular section out of the plastron, leaving only a rim

remaining, and through the hole thus made the animal can be skinned, and

also stuffed when the time comes.

CHAPTER IX.

COLLECTING FISHES.

As to the methods of procuring your fish, I have very little to say. In all

my collecting I have never yet seen the time when it did not pay far better

to buy fish specimens of professional fishermen than to turn fisherman

myself. With an enterprising set of fishermen, much may be done by offering

to purchase the strange and curious species that are often unfit for food,

and are usually thrown away. Be first in the fish-market when the day's

catch is being landed; be on hand persistently, in season and out of

season, and by so doing you will have the first chance to buy the handsome

sharks, rays, rhinobati, etc., before they are ruthlessly cut up and sold

piecemeal. Mask your enthusiasm; learn to dissemble, and then you will not

need to pay more than the ruling market prices, even for the specimens

which are of the highest scientific value. In Ceylon I once bought a

remarkable shark-ray for three shillings, which I sold again, almost

immediately, for $75; but it almost cost me a fit of apoplexy to control my

feelings while the bargain was being made. I wanted to give three cheers

for _Rhamphobatis ancylostomus_!

FIELD NOTES ON FISHES.--_Colors._--In collecting and preserving fishes,

happy is he who can sketch with a pencil, and thrice happy is he to whom

the gods have given the ability to paint in water-colors. If you are

blessed with this ability, the correct and _imperative_ thing to do in

collecting is to make a good outline sketch of each species, and color it

carefully from a perfectly fresh specimen. Then, when the glorious colors

of the living fish vanish like magic in the alcohol, or in the air, as the

case may be, there is your permanent and indisputable record, a thing of

great value to science until a better one is produced. At the National

Museum it has for years been the policy of Dr. Goode to have an accurate

water-color drawing made by Mr. Schindler of every species of fish,

cetacean, and reptile received. The result is a series of exhibition casts

in which every detail of color is reproduced with admirable accuracy and

life likeness. In preserving your fresh specimens remember that, no matter

what you may do, _the colors will fade_, and the more delicate tints will

disappear entirely.

_Labels._--For alcoholics the best thing to use is a small bit of pure

sheet tin, or else sheet lead, with a number stamped upon it. The next best

thing is a parchment tag having the necessary data written upon it with a

lead pencil, which is much more permanent in alcohol than any ink.

_Scientific Facts._--Of the many facts the novice should try to ascertain

regarding each species, the following are the most important: All the local

names; degree of abundance; time when most abundant; whether it is a

permanent resident or is migratory; if migratory, the facts relating

thereto; its habits; the depth and character of bottom preferred; food;

what fishes prey upon them; value as food or for other purposes.

_Methods of Preservation._--In the field, fishes may be collected and

preserved in four different ways, according to circumstances, as follows:

1. Preserved entire in spirits. 2. As skins, preserved in spirits. 3. As

skins preserved in brine. 4. As rough skeletons, either preserved dry or in

spirits.

For the purposes of scientific study and close investigation, the most

valuable fish specimens are those which have been preserved entire in

alcohol, or some equally efficient preservative solution. Good alcoholic

specimens rank next in scientific value to fishes fresh from their native

element. Ordinarily, however, the collector's resources are limited, and it

is necessary for him to preserve only the skins of the large and bulky

specimens.

_Tanks for Alcoholics._--For years past the National Museum and United

States Fish Commission have used square, box-like tanks, made of copper and

lined with tin, each tank having a large round hole in its top, as large as

the width of the top will allow, and which is closed tightly by means of a

screw cover. These are known as "Agassiz tanks," for the reason that the

design originated with Professor Louis Agassiz. They are light, not very

costly, easily managed, and are about as nearly perfect for their purpose

as anything can be in this world. They are made of three sizes, to hold

four, eight, or sixteen gallons. To protect them during shipment a strong

pine chest is used, which is provided with wrought-iron handles, hinged

cover, hasp, and padlock. The chests are made to contain one sixteen-gallon

tank, two of eight gallons, and either three or four four-gallon tanks. The

tanks used by the National Museum are made by W.S. Barker, Seventh and D

Streets, S.W., Washington, at the following prices, exclusive of the

chests; sixteen-gallon tank, $16.50; eight-gallon, $10; four-gallon, $4.25;

pine chests, complete, $3 each.

[Illustration: FIG. 20.--Agassiz Tank, for Alcoholics.]

If Agassiz tanks are not obtainable, the next best and the cheapest course

is to have some large round cans made of galvanized iron, with tops that

can be soldered on when the time comes to ship specimens. Wooden kegs are

not of much use in collecting, but both kegs and barrels are good enough to

use in transporting collections. Many a time I have helped myself out of a

difficulty afield by falling back upon the immortal American kerosene can,

holding five square gallons, and which goes to the uttermost parts of the

earth.

_Glass Jars._--In the field I have never found any other sort of a glass

jar half as useful and safe as a common Mason fruit jar, varying in size

from pint to half-gallon. They are infinitely superior to glass-stoppered

jars, and far less liable to be broken.

PRESERVING FISHES ENTIRE IN SPIRITS.--Having taken all the notes on a fresh

specimen that you desire, the next thing is to wash it thoroughly. But

"before washing the fish," says Dr. T. H. Bean, "look it over for external

parasites; examine the gills and the inside of the mouth carefully, as

these are favorite situations. These parasites often furnish a clue to the

migration of the fish; remove them if they can be taken off entire; if not,

let them remain, and call attention to their presence in your shipping

notes. Preserve the parasites in vials or bottles, and provide them with

labels, stating from what fish they came, and in what situation they were

found."

Many fishes when taken from the water have the entire body and gills

covered with a coat of persistent mucus that can be removed only by

determined effort. If you have any alum at hand, you can in a moment make

up a pint or quart of alum water, which will cut the mucus instantly, and

clear it off. Use a stiff brush--a large tooth-brush is the best thing--in

cleaning off this mucus, and do not forget to cleanse the gills thoroughly.

Open the abdominal region of every fish by making a generous cut from the

vent straight forward toward the ventral fins. Usually the length of the

opening should be equal to about one-fifth of the entire length of the

fish. If the fish be a large one, it has always been my practice to open

the fleshy interior still farther by working through this cut, and

detaching the skin from the flesh as far up each side as possible. This

gives the spirits immediate access to the entire mass of flesh, and the

result is very speedy and perfect preservation without any change whatever

in the form or weight of the specimen.

Dr. Bean always directs that the viscera be preserved, to assist in

identification, even though it becomes necessary to remove them from large

fishes and preserve them in separate jars. When there is no particular

reason for their preservation, it is a great advantage to remove them and

throw them away. They are--unless of scientific value--an abominable

nuisance, and do more to spoil good alcohol than all the rest of the fish.

Fishes that have begun to decompose, and have become offensive, yet are too

valuable to throw away, may be disinfected by washing them inside and out

with a moderately weak solution of pure carbolic acid and water, or with a

solution made by dissolving a tablespoonful of chloride of soda in a pint

of water.

For years a very common formula for preservative alcohol has been

ninety-five per cent alcohol diluted with one-third of its bulk of water,

or, in other words, three parts of alcohol and one of water. If there is

any fault to be found with this solution, it is that it is stronger than is

really necessary. I have preserved barrels of alcoholic specimens in a

solution composed of two parts of proof spirits and one part water, and

have never lost a specimen except through leakage. This solution is strong

enough to stand considerable deterioration without the loss of its

contents.

I have never attempted to collect quantities of alcoholics without an

alcoholometer in constant use. This little instrument costs but a trifle,

and affords the only reliable means for testing the strength of alcohol.

Its use enables the collector to exercise economy in the use of his

spirits, and get the maximum benefit from it. Therefore I say, buy an

alcoholometer at all hazards, and carry it and a suitable test-glass with

your outfit. Test the spirits on your specimens frequently, and you will

then run no risks of loss.

Keep a receptacle to use as a receiving and curing tank, into which all

fresh specimens are placed, with abundant room for each to undergo the

curing process. Every animal contains in its body a heavy percentage of

water, which must be, in great measure, replaced by the spirits before the

flesh can be preserved from decay. Into the first bath a great quantity of

blood and abdominal fluids will be soaked out from the specimen, and it is

bound to lose strength rapidly, and also become foul. As long as it remains

clean enough to use, keep up its strength by the addition of pure spirits,

and in it immerse all specimens until they are thoroughly cured. Give them

plenty of room at first, and keep them from settling down to the bottom by

putting there a bunch of excelsior, tow, or cloth. While the spirits in a

can may be strong enough on top to preserve a specimen, at the bottom,

where the animal impurities settle, it may be so weak that anything lying

in it would soon spoil. Often the tail of a fish which hangs upright in a

jar will spoil while the remainder will be preserved.

After specimens have remained in the receiving-tank for from two to four

days, according to size, put them in another receptacle in clean, fresh

spirits, still allowing them plenty of room. Finally, when ready to pack up

and make a shipment home, wrap each fish separately in a piece of thin,

white cotton cloth, just large enough to cover it well, dip it in clean

spirits, and without any tying or pinning of the cloths, lay the fishes in

your barrel like sardines in a box, as closely as they will lie without

being squeezed. Fill the receptacle full of fishes, head it up, and then

pour into it all the clean spirits it will hold.

In order to proceed with the second and third methods of preserving fish

specimens, it now becomes necessary to describe a process.

HOW TO SKIN A FISH.--Of course, no one aspiring to become a collector of

fishes will remain in ignorance of the names of the different fins. And,

more than that, before he can prepare even the rough skeleton of a fish he

must know what its bony structure is like. On the whole, there is a good

deal to be learned about methods in collecting fishes, and as a beginning

we must learn how to skin a scale fish. The methods with cartilaginous

fishes will be considered later.

The principles with all scale fishes are precisely the same, the only

difference being in the greater amount of cold steel and energy required

for such great, hulking brutes as the jewfish, and the magnificent tarpon.

For convenience we will take a specimen about a foot in length; for

example, a striped bass, a pike, or a red snapper.

As is the case with quadrupeds, the left side of a mounted fish is always

expected to be "the show side." Lay the specimen upon its left side, start

at the vent with a stout pair of sharp-pointed scissors, and divide the

skin in a perfectly straight line along the median line of the belly toward

the head, stopping the cut when you approach close to the narrow,

tongue-like point which terminates between the lower angles of the gill

openings. Now reverse the fish, begin again at the vent, and divide the

skin with a clean cut through the scales, in a line parallel with the base

of the anal fin, and about half an inch from where the scales meet the fin

rays. This is really a cut along the side of the fish, as low down as

possible, made necessary by reason of the anal fin. Continue this cut

straight back to the tail, as shown in the dotted line _g-h_ in Plate IV.

[Illustration: PLATE IV. HOW TO CUT OPEN AND MOUNT A FISH.]

You will find that the ventral fins are joined together in the flesh by a

strong bony arch, called the pubis, and this must be divided through the

middle so as to entirely separate the fins. The anal fin-rays must now be

cut loose from the interior rays (called interhæmal spines), which are

really their bony foundation. The ventral fins must also be cut loose from

the pubic bones at the point where they are articulated. Now take the cut

edge of the fish skin between the left thumb and forefinger, and with the

cartilage-knife carefully cut the skin free from the flesh. Be careful not

to disturb the white layer of color pigment which is spread like a silver

lining of feeble tin-foil over the inside of the skin. This is what gives

the fish its silvery color, and if skinned off or scraped away the skin

will look like colorless parchment. _Whatever you do, do not disturb that

color lining._ Proceed with the skinning until the skin has been detached

from the entire upper side of the fish. This brings you to where the dorsal

and caudal fins are inserted.[6]

Now turn the fish over, and proceed as before, as far as you can go. You

presently reach the caudal fin, which must be cut loose from the end of the

vertebral column as far back in the skin as possible. When this has been

done, the skin and the fleshy body still hang together by the attachment of

the rays of the dorsal fin to the interhæmal spines. Cut these apart with

the scissors, from back to front, close up to the skin, which brings you to

where the vertebral column joins the skull. You will make very short work

of that, which frees the fleshy body from the skull. Now scrape away the

surplus flesh from the inside of the skin, wash it thoroughly, remove the

gills (if they are not to be studied), and lay the skin flat upon its side

in your tank of alcohol.

By thus preserving the skins of fishes, instead of whole specimens, a great

number of really large specimens can be preserved in a small quantity of

alcohol, for at the last they can be packed together, heads and tails,

precisely like sardines.

SKINNING CARTILAGINOUS FISHES.--_Sharks, Rays, etc._--The skinning of a

shark or saw-fish calls for no special instructions in addition to the

foregoing, except that the long, narrow, pointed tail requires to be slit

open along the right side of its upper lobe for a considerable distance.

Remember the principle that wherever there is flesh, a way must be made so

that it can be removed, or at least reached from the inside by the

preservative. Of the skull, nothing is to be left attached to the skin

except the jaws. The skeleton is wholly of cartilage instead of bone, and

is easily cut through.

The extremely flat, circular-bodied ray, also with a cartilaginous

skeleton, must be opened on the underside by two cross cuts at right angles

to each other, one extending from mouth to tail, and the other from side to

side. The fin rays are very long stems of cartilage, set so closely

together as to form a solid sheet of cartilage extending from the thoracic

skeleton out to the extremities of the fins, which taper out to nothing.

The thoracic skeleton gives shape to the body of the ray, particularly the

back, and it must be left in place, with the skin of the back attached to

it. Cut through the fin rays where they join the body, and this will enable

you to skin down each side of the fish until you get so near the outer edge

there is no longer any flesh. Stop at that point, cut the flesh away from

the fin rays, and cut away as much of the fin rays themselves as you

please.

Clear out all the flesh and preserve the skin in a very strong solution of

salt and water (what is known to chemists as a "saturated solution"), or in

alcohol if you have it to spare.

PREPARING ROUGH SKELETONS.--In about seven cases out of ten, it is a far

easier and more simple matter to rough out, clean, and mount the complete

skeleton of a fish than the uninitiated would naturally suppose. A few

fishes, such as the shad, have more bones than the law allows, and the

preparation of a complete skeleton thus becomes a practical impossibility.

Fortunately, however, most fishes are more reasonable in the matter of

bones, and to these we direct our efforts.

First and foremost, study the bony structure of a typical scale fish, learn

what its principal parts are, and how they are articulated. Learn how the

ribs lie, and how a row of slender, riblike bones called appendices, or

epipleural spines, are attached to the true ribs, and at their outer

extremities _touch the inside of the skin_ along the lateral line of the

fish. If you will take a good-sized perch as your first subject, you will

not be troubled with any osteological extras, and the process will be as

follows:

Lay the perch upon its side, and with a sharp scalpel cut away the skin

from the whole of the exposed side. Remove all the viscera. By careful

examination, ascertain the exact location of the ribs, and particularly the

row of epipleural spines attached at the upper ends of the former. With a

broad, flat bone-scraper, or your knife-blade if you have nothing better,

begin at the lateral line of the fish, and work toward the top of the back,

taking the flesh away in chunks as you go. In a very short time the

vertebræ and the interhæmal spines are exposed, and with a narrower

bone-scraper the flesh is easily removed from them.

Now turn the fish around, and with great care cut and scrape the flesh away

from the ribs and the epipleural spines. Do not on any account detach the

latter from the former, but at this stage leave them attached to each other

by a thin strip of flesh for their better protection.

Do not separate the ventral fins by cutting through the pubic arch, but

with your small, curve-ended bone-scraper remove the flesh from the angular

recesses of these bones, and leave the anterior end of the pubic arch

attached to the coracoid. Next, pick out the flesh from around the base of

the pectoral fin, remove the eye from its socket, and whatever flesh the

skull contains. Thus does the bony structure of one entire side stand

revealed. The gills are of course to remain in place, as the skeleton would

not be complete without them.

There is but one thing more to add. In treating the other side of the fish

in a precisely similar manner, care must be taken to not disturb the

attachment of the interneural and interhæmal spines which join the dorsal

and anal fin rays to the processes of the vertebral column.

Having thus denuded the fish of its flesh, lay the skeleton in a pan of

water, and with a moderately soft tooth-brush, or nailbrush, brush it

carefully to wash away all blood and mucus. If the bones are full of blood

(which is very rarely the case), the skeleton must be soaked in clear water

for an hour or two, or longer if necessary, to soak out the blood, so that

it will not dry in the bones and permanently disfigure them.

Rough skeletons of fishes may be preserved in alcohol, but for many reasons

it is much the best to dry them. Poison them with dry arsenic; _do not put

upon them either salt, arsenical soap, or alum_, hang each one up by the

head, and see that it dries in good shape. The pectoral fins should lie

well down upon the ribs for mutual protection.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] Some operators open a fish in a straight line along the _middle_ of one

side, but I have never been able to see any reason for this preference.

CHAPTER X.

COLLECTING MARINE INVERTEBRATES.

SPONGES.--A live sponge is simply a vast colony of protozoan animals, each

member of which lives an independent existence, but all are at the same

time mutually dependent upon each other. The sponge of commerce, and the

"cleaned" sponge of the museum collection is, like a branch of coral,

merely the skeleton of the living aggregation. A live sponge is a dark

colored, heavy, tough gelatinous mass, cold and clammy to handle, quickly

offensive if left in the open air, and utterly useless until "cleaned," or

rid of its mass of animal matter. The skeleton of a sponge may be _horny_,

like that of the useful sponges of commerce; _silicious_, like the

marvellously beautiful framework of the famous glass sponge of the

Philippine Islands (_Euplectella_); or _calcareous_, like the curious

little _Grantia_, which looks like a miniature bouquet-holder, with a frill

of spines around its open end.

Owing to the extreme scarcity of sponge collections, very few persons know

how great a variety of forms, and what really remarkable forms, exist no

farther from home than the waters that wash the coast of our own beloved

Florida. I once had the pleasure of collecting no fewer than sixteen

distinct species on the beach between Biscayne Bay and New River Inlet,

some of them of remarkable form, and all of them nicely cleaned for me by

old Ocean.

Of course, I _searched_ for sponges, and found many a fine specimen buried

almost out of sight in the sand,--but what glorious fun it was, to be sure!

There I obtained the large, coarse "basket sponge" (_Hirvina campana_), a

hollow, inverted cone, often capable of holding a pailful of water; the

remarkable finger sponge (_Tuba vaginalis_), which forms clusters of

upright, hollow cylinders; a large cylindrical sponge of a rich brown

color, and beautiful wiry texture, called _Verongia fistularis_; and

sponges that were like trees, like interlocked deer antlers, and what not.

Professor H.A. Ward's last catalogue of invertebrates enumerated

forty-three species of sponges that were on hand when the list went to

press. Of these, the largest specimen was a huge Neptune's cup (_Paterion

neptuni_), four feet in height, and shaped like a gigantic goblet, which

came from the neighborhood of Singapore.

Therefore, I say, when on the seashore, be on the lookout for sponges. If

you can find them on the beach ready cleaned and dried for you, so much the

better; but if you get them alive, the soft animal matter must be macerated

and washed away, just as you would macerate the flesh from a large

skeleton. Soak them in fresh water for a short time to macerate the soft

matter, then wash it out in salt water, and keep this up until the sponge

is at last clean.

CORALS.--The bleached white coral cluster of the cabinet is, like the

sponge, only the skeleton of its former self. When it was forcibly torn

from its foothold at the bottom of the sea it was covered with living coral

polyps, which gave it the color which is peculiarly its own. Some species,

notably _Madrepores_, when first taken from the water look like colored

glass. The main branches are of a yellowish-brown tint, shading toward the

tips to the most delicate and beautiful bluish purple. There is no way to

preserve these colors, because they are due entirely to the presence of the

living polyps. When those delicate organisms die, as die they must, the

color vanishes, and if not cleaned and bleached, the coral assumes a dead,

smoky brown appearance, suggestive of dust and dirt.

Therefore it is best to clean and bleach your corals at once. This requires

a little time, but the process is "so simple a child can use it." Small

specimens can be cleaned quickly by washing them in dilute muriatic acid,

and afterward in clear water to keep the acid from going too far, and then

placing them out in the sun to bleach. Large specimens cannot always be

treated in this way, and the best plan for wholesale operations is to place

the coral on the ground, in a sunny situation, and dash water upon it daily

until the soft animal matter has been washed away, and the wind and sun

combined have bleached the specimens to snowy whiteness.

As a general thing, the natives who live within reach of coral groves are

in the habit of gathering it in quantity, cleaning it very successfully,

and offering it for sale at prices that defy competition on the part of any

scientific collector whose time is worth more than fifty cents a day. The

best thing the collector can do is to get acquainted with the native

fishermen and boatmen, treat them well and pay fairly, and then, if there

is anything in the sea that his collectorship wants, it will soon be

forthcoming. Thus, instead of the growth of the collection depending upon

one or two men, there will be from ten to twenty local experts directly

interested in it. I once came to a complete deadlock with my interpreter

and three boatmen on the translation of the word "coral." They were

Singhalese and Tamils, and coral was worse than Sanskrit to them. Finally,

as a last despairing effort, I took a pencil and began to make a sketch of

a madrepore. The crowd watched its progress in breathless silence until

very soon one appreciative auditor shouted triumphantly, _"Koki kalli!"_

The crowd joyfully echoed it, the mystery was solved, and in five minutes

more we were afloat and on our way to seek

"The treasures of the sea,

In the mystic groves of coral

Where her spirit wanders free."

The packing and shipping of branching corals is a serious matter. I have

tried every way I could think of, and have seen others do the same, and am

firmly convinced that no matter how the large _branching_ clusters are

packed, they are _bound to get somewhat broken anyway_! Of course, if you

care to travel with them and see to their handling at every transfer, that

is another thing, but who can do that? The trouble is that the individual

branches are so very heavy for the diameter of the stems next the base, a

sudden jar causes them to snap in two by their own weight. But then corals

are very beautiful, very interesting, and no matter though they are

troublesome, we must have them.

In packing brain coral, and other compact forms without branches, the

principal thing is to wrap them in sufficient soft materials that their

surfaces cannot get rubbed, for that would ruin them. Do not pack a large

chunk of brain coral without putting a partition across the box to hold it

firmly in its own place, no matter how the box is turned. In Ceylon I once

took the trouble to divide a large box into twelve separate compartments

for the reception of that number of coral specimens.

In packing branching coral, a good quantity of soft, elastic, fibrous

material like coir, cotton, tow, oakum, or something similar, is necessary.

From first to last, take whatever precautions are necessary to keep your

corals from getting filled with dirt and litter. Each cluster must lie on a

thick pad of your fibrous material. In order to get downward pressure upon

it, to hold it in place without breaking the branches, take some soft paper

or cotton cloth, roll up a long, cylindrical pad of cotton or something

else, and thrust it far down into the largest opening between the branches,

with one end projecting above the top of the cluster to receive and

transmit pressure from above. This principle, if properly carried out, will

enable the collector to so firmly fix even the most fragile cluster that it

is fitted to withstand pretty rough treatment in transit without serious

damage.

STAR-FISHES.--When star-fishes are first taken from the water their arms

are pliant, but after a bath in alcohol they become perfectly rigid. If

left to themselves when first put into spirits, the smaller and more

spider-like species will almost tie their arms into double bow-knots, and

insist on keeping them so forever after. Since the way to cure a star-fish

is to soak it in alcohol for from six to twenty-four hours, according to

size, and then dry it flat and in good shape, it becomes necessary to pin

the small ones firmly in shape upon thin boards before immersing them, and

then they will "stay put." See to it that while in the spirits all your

star-fishes, large and small, cure in proper shape, flat, and with each arm

flat and extended in the right direction. After removal from the spirits,

pin out all those not already fastened upon boards, and then let them dry.

I have never found it necessary to poison the spirits, for the reason that

dermestes and other insects seem to respect a dried star-fish for his own

sake.

ECHINI.--In all tropic seas the collector is liable to find echinoderms,

"sea-urchins," "sea-eggs," or "sea-porcupines." These creatures are

usually spherical in shape, with the mouth underneath, and the internal

structure of the animal is covered with a stout, calcareous shell of

uniform thickness, which is set all over on the outside with a mass of

protecting spines, usually fine and very sharp-pointed, but sometimes thick

and blunt. In life the spines are movable, and by means of them the

creature walks, or clings to its native rocks most tenaciously.

The best time to seek echini is at low tide, and the best places are those

where the shore line is composed of rough rocks, scooped out here and there

into shallow pools. Take with you a large basket, a large screw-driver, if

you have one, or failing that, a knife with a long, stout blade. Wear old

clothes, unless you can afford to spoil new ones. When the tide is low you

can wade around in the now peaceful pools, and find the echini in the

sheltered crevices, clinging to the bottom, or the perpendicular sides of

the rocks, but always under water.

To dislodge them, the knife-point or the edge of the screw-driver must be

neatly and skilfully worked under the victim far enough to enable you, with

the exertion of some force and a steady pull, to pry him loose from the

rock, whereupon he becomes your lawful prey. Next comes the cleaning

process. With a small knife, detach the skin of the mouth parts from the

edge of the round hole underneath, in the middle of which the mouth is

situated, and remove all fluid and fleshy matter from the interior of the

shell. That done, wash it out thoroughly. The bony jaws, or "Aristotle's

lantern," may also be drawn out through the hole and thrown away--_unless_

you happen to be collecting for someone who is studying the anatomy of

echini, in which case he must speak for himself.

Having cleaned your sea-urchin, put it in clean alcohol (same strength as

for fishes) and let it soak for about twenty-four hours. This will prevent

the spines from gently dropping off, like leaves in autumn, when you

proceed to dry the specimen. After soaking in spirits, put the specimens

out in a shady place to dry. It is a curious fact that all the echini of

Ceylon and Malayana lose their spines unless soaked in spirits before

drying, whereas those of the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, and the West

Indies can be dried without soaking, and the spines will not fall off.

SHELLS. _"Living" and "Dead" Specimens._--The first thing that the amateur

needs to learn about a shell is that it may be living or dead. As a general

thing, what is technically called a "dead" shell is worthless in a cabinet.

A live shell is one which has been collected with a living mollusc in it,

and then duly cleaned, preserving all its beautiful colors. A dead shell is

one in which the occupant died a natural death, has lain and bleached in

the sunshine until its colors are entirely gone, and its form also ruined

by the weather. Therefore I say, leave dead shells alone, unless it be that

you are making an exhaustive collection of the species in a given locality,

when a dead shell which is identifiable is as good a record as a living

one. Where a shell is actually devoid of color, a dead shell is as good as

a living one, provided it is collected before its edges or its angles have

been rounded by exposure to the sun and rain. Many a living shell has an

epidermis, the same as an animal, while a dead shell has none.

When shells are obtainable, who can resist the impulse to gather them? The

man, woman, or child who is proof against the seductive powers of the

beautiful and many-colored shells of the seashore "is fit for treason,

stratagems, and spoils." Next to the pleasure of collecting shells one's

self is that of witnessing the keen delight of children and ladies in

gathering these beautiful treasures of the sea. If you have never yet had

an opportunity to stroll along the smooth sands of an ocean beach at low

tide, and gather your basketful of beautiful shells, curious sponges, bits

of coral and coralline, while your soul is soothed by the rhythmic music of

the surf, then I pity you. You have indeed yet something left to live for.

Hooker has divided the shell-bearing mollusca into three great

groups--land, fresh-water, and marine--and the shell collector will do well

to study each one separately.

_Land Shells._--These are most abundant in the tropics, less so in the

subtropical regions, and are rare elsewhere. They are seldom found where

moisture is not abundant. In the tropics they are to be collected all the

year round, but in the temperate zone it is best to collect them in the

autumn, when they are fully grown. It is impossible, without devoting too

much space to this subject, to give more than a general idea of the

situations in which land shells are found. Some species are to be looked

for on trees and bushes; others on rocks and stone walls; others again on

the ground, and others again on the blades or in the roots of grass. In the

tropics it is particularly desirable to watch for the beautiful land

snails, which are almost strictly arboreal in their habits. They are to be

found on the trunks and leaves of palms, the banana, myrtle, orange, and

scores of other trees and shrubs.

_Fresh-Water Shells_ which inhabit clear and shallow water are easily

gathered with a stout hand-net. Where the water is murky, or so deep that

the bottom cannot be seen, it is necessary to have an instrument like an

iron-toothed rake, with the teeth set closely together, to be used as a

sort of clam-dredge, raking the bottom and gathering up the mussels. In our

own country the amateur collector will doubtless be surprised at the number

of species of _Unio_ which will repay the labors of a diligent collector.

_Marine Shells._--If you would have one of the jolliest picnics in the

world, don a suit of old clothes, equip yourself with a stout basket, a

screw-driver with a long handle, and a case-knife with a thin blade,

"Hang up thy lute and hie thee to the sea."

Go before the tide is at its lowest ebb, and search in the vicinity of the

largest bowlders, under ledges of rock, under loose stones, in

shallow pools, in bunches of sea-weed, in fact everywhere along the shore.

In these various places you will find cowries, ormers (_Haliotis_),

chitons, limpets, and more others than I could name in an hour.

When wading in shallow water it is well to look out for the pestiferous

sting-ray, and not step on one unawares, lest you find its caudal spine

driven through your foot like a poisoned arrow. But, fortunately, they

seldom trouble the collector. With the limpets, chitons, and other small

shell-fish, you must work the point of your case-knife under them, and with

it gradually detach them from the rock. Where such prey is plentiful, the

collecting of it is grand fun, I assure you.

There are many bivalves which burrow or bury in the mud or sand, which must

be dug out with a stick or trowel, while other species, still more

enterprising, bore into wooden piles, and even into rocks! These, of

course, can be collected only with the aid of a hatchet, or chisel, or

stone-hammer, as the case may be. If you are on the Florida coast you will

do well to search over the coral reefs and the mud flats at low tide. On

the latter you will find conch-shells, pinnas, and numerous other species.

I once made a very successful search for pinnas by wading around barefooted

on a sandy flat on which the receding tide had left the water but little

over a foot in depth. These shells were always found standing up in the

sand, at bay, with their sharp edge up. By going barefooted as I did, you

find the shells by stepping on them and cutting your feet, which is to be

accomplished, however, without hurting the thin edge of the shell. A cut

foot will heal up, but a broken shell never will.

CLEANING SHELLS.[7]--In gathering shells, particularly the marine species,

many of them will be found covered with a thick, leathery, and persistent

epidermis, and many others will be so buried under rough, limy accretions

that their own fathers would scarcely recognize them. However beautiful

such shells may be when cleaned, it is no child's play to clean them and

get them ready for the cabinet. To anyone willing to learn, the processes

are really very simple; and what manual labor under the sun could be more

interesting to a lover of natural history?

_Removing the Animal._--With a large shell, such as a conch, the first step

is to remove the living animal. In some cases I have accomplished this by

hooking a fish-hook into the head of the animal and hanging it up so that

the weight of the shell constantly pulling down on the animal would cause

it to gradually relax and draw out. An excellent plan is to place the shell

for a few days in fresh water and macerate the animal sufficiently that it

may be drawn out. Fortunately the great majority of molluscs are very

small, and it is possible to prepare them for the cabinet without the

necessity of removing the animal. Mr. Greegor's plan is to soak the shell

in alcohol for a few days, to completely preserve the animal, and then dry

it thoroughly to expel all the water from it. When that is done, the final

step is to pour into the shell, through a rubber tube, a little thick

varnish, or hot beeswax mixed with a little vaseline to make it flow

readily, and thus cover the dried-up remains of the animal with an

impervious coating which does away with all odors which might otherwise

arise from it. This part of the process, be it understood, is to be

attended to _after_ the cleaning and polishing has been done.

_Removing the Epidermis._--The epidermis is so tough and horny, and sticks

so tightly to the shell that tools cannot remove it successfully and it

must be done chemically. Make a strong solution of chloride of lime and

water, by putting into a jar one-fourth its bulk of chloride of lime,

two-fourths water, and leaving the remaining fourth part of the space for

the froth that will rise. Soak shells in this pasty solution for a short

time, and it will eat the epidermis off.

_Removing Limy Accretions._--The bulk of all these thick, irregular

coatings must be removed with steel tools--file, scraper, knife,

sand-paper, or hammer--to suit each individual case. The tool that Mr.

Greegor most relies upon is a small and very light hammer, made especially

for him, which is shaped somewhat like a square-headed tack-hammer, with

the pointed end drawn out to a blunt cutting edge, like the edge of a cold

chisel. With this cutting edge a skilful hand can peck the lime or coral

incrustations off a shell very neatly, and without injury to the surface of

the specimen. Acid will not remove the thick, limy deposits, and they must

be cleaned off by mechanical means.

After the bulk of the limy deposits have been removed by means of tools,

the shell usually has a dull, lustreless appearance, and appears to require

something that will remove the remaining particles of lime, impart to it a

permanent gloss, and bring out its beautiful colors. Fortunately there is a

way to do this to perfection, which consists in dipping the shell in a weak

solution of muriatic acid and water, boiling hot. The strength of this

solution must vary according to the nature of the specimen. For thick and

strong shells, which by their solid character you are assured cannot be

damaged by a maximum of acid, put 3 parts of muriatic acid in 10 parts

water. For thin and delicate specimens, use 1 part acid to 10 of water,

varying the amount of acid from 1 part to 3, as your experience will soon

teach you is most desirable. Put this solution in a porcelain kettle, bring

it to a boil, and then with a pair of wooden tongs or forceps dip each

shell into it and hold it there for a second or more, as may be necessary.

On removing it, wash it in clear water and dry it, and if its appearance is

not satisfactory dip it again.

For very delicate shells, having a thin surface color, such as the

_Cypreas_ and _Olivias_, or such shells as have very delicate sculpture,

the weaker solution is best. When it is desired to cut more on one part of

a shell than another, the acid may be applied with a brush, finishing with

a quick dip. Never allow any of the acid solution to remain on the shell,

or it will eat into it and dull the lustre. For fine work, dry each

specimen with a towel.

Shells which have on their exterior a great deal of horny or organic

matter, such as _Haliotis_, _Ostrea_, _Lingula_, and a few others, work

badly in acid, and require to be brushed constantly while cutting, to

remove the organic matter, for the reason that the acid acts only on the

lime of the shell.

Chloride of lime and muriatic acid are both very volatile, and when not in

use should be kept in tightly closed vessels.

FOOTNOTE:

[7] For the best part of the information given under this heading I am

indebted to Mr. I. Greegor, the well-known dealer in sea-shells and Florida

"curios," at 61 Laura Street, Jacksonville, Fla., who is an acknowledged

expert in the treatment of shells, not only in cleaning, but in cutting

sections, polishing, etc. I obtained the facts from him while he occupied a

very high position in the Smithsonian Institution--in the north tower, at

least fifty feet from the ground.

CHAPTER XI.

COLLECTING BIRDS' EGGS AND NESTS.

IDENTIFICATION.--Positive and unmistakable identification of the builder

and occupant of a nest is quite as imperative on the collector as the

gathering of the nest and eggs themselves. There must be no guess-work on

this point, for eggs without a pedigree are often valueless. If an

oological expert is within reach--one who can tell to a

certainty the species of doubtful eggs, or if the eggs themselves are so

characteristic and unique in their shape, size, and markings as to render

their certain identification an easy matter, then is it safe to take home a

"find" without finding the owner.

It is only the fledgling oologist who needs to be told that in all cases of

doubt regarding the identity (_i.e._, the exact species) of a nest-builder,

the only proper course is to collect the bird as well as the nest and eggs.

This may often involve long watching, but it relieves the result from all

uncertainty. No collector should think of going afield in quest of nests

and eggs without taking his gun along. In South America, the only way in

which I could get possession of the wonderful pensile nest of the crested

cacique was by cutting off the limb to which it hung, with a rifle bullet.

In all timbered regions the collector must have a pair of good

climbing-irons, such as telegraph linemen use, to enable him to climb with

ease the nest-bearing trees that would otherwise defy him. It was before

the days of climbing-irons that aspiring Sir Walter Raleigh wrote for the

fair eyes of Queen Elizabeth,

"Fain would I climb, but that I fear to fall,"

to which his august mistress promptly responded with a piece of wisdom

which every young oologist will do well to paste in his hat:

"If thy mind fail thee, do not climb at all!"

Very good and serviceable climbing-irons can be obtained of Mr. Frank B.

Webster, 409 Washington Street, Boston, for $3.50 per pair. Mr. Webster

also keeps, at his very complete naturalist's supply depot, nearly every

requisite that an oologist or taxidermist requires, except one thing that

is indispensable in hunting and lofty tree-climbing,--nerve. Every

collector or taxidermist should send Mr. Webster ten cents for a copy of

his illustrated catalogue, which of itself is probably the finest of its

kind ever issued, and in which all naturalist's and oologist's supplies are

pictured, described, and priced. The following are the principal articles

needed to make up a proper outfit for an egg collector, and Mr. Webster's

prices thereon:

Collecting-box, 75 cents. |Pasteboard trays, for eggs,

Egg drills, six sizes, 15 cents to $1.50. | per dozen, 12 cents.

Calipers, for use in measuring, 60 cents. |Pocket-case (leather),

| complete, with drills,

Embryo hooks, 25 cents. | blower, hooks, scissors,

| and forceps,

Embryo scissors, 25 cents to $1.50. | $5.00.

Egg measures, 75 cents to $1.00. |Climbing-irons, per pair,

| $3.50.

COLLECTING NESTS.--Our boys pay too much attention to collecting eggs, and

not half enough to nests. To the average observer who takes an interest in

perusing the pages of Nature's story-book, a fine collection of bird's

nests is a joy forever. It is ever ready to unfold chapter after chapter of

bird lore, tales of wonderful intelligence and divine ingenuity in adapting

means to ends, and stories galore of difficulties surmounted by the

cunningest little architects in the world. Notice, if you please, the

bewildering variety of materials employed in the construction of these

bird-dwellings, great and small. Why, even the human architects of our own

time are completely surpassed by the Baltimore oriole, the marsh wren, and

the humming-bird.

There is food for thought and cause for admiration in a really good

collection of bird's nests. To me there is much more of interest in any

nest than in the eggs it contains. The latter is a plain and simple product

of nature, to which the bird is merely an interested party to circumstances

beyond its own control. The former is an exhibit of the instinct,

intelligence, reasoning powers, industry, and mechanical and artistic skill

of a living creature of a high order. The nest is what the bird makes it,

and it often tells quite a story. Boys, let us give eggs and skins a rest,

and make a fine collection of nests, _in situ_, as the rockologists say. We

can do this after the nestlings have flown, if you like, without stealing

any eggs or shedding any innocent blood. After the young have tumbled out,

the nest is a back number, and becomes your lawful prey. Take it, and

enjoy it, without remorse over blood that you haven't shed.

[Illustration: FIG. 21.--Bird Nest, _in situ_.]

The most interesting and valuable nests are those that are collected _in

situ_, or, in other words, in the particular crotch, or bunch of grass, or

bush in which the bird placed it. Anything that will show just where a nest

was placed by its builder adds immensely to its interest, and increases its

scientific value. The accompanying illustration of such a nest in Captain

Bendire's collection (Fig. 21), may be taken as an example of how nests of

a certain class can be collected and displayed. The section of the sapling

was sawn squarely off a few inches below the nest, and screwed (from below)

upon a highly polished ebonized pedestal. In drawing this specimen the

label was removed in order that no portion of the principal object should

be concealed, but Captain Bendire's system of labelling is fully shown in

another figure.

The possibilities in collecting and displaying nests _in situ_ are almost

endless. Indeed, so far as I have observed, this is a new and very

attractive field for the collector, for although I have visited a great

many large museums, and in both the New and the Old World have seen many

ornithological collections, I have never yet seen a collection of birds'

nests which represented a tithe of the possibilities in that direction.

Every oologist should have in his library a copy of Rev. J.G. Wood's

charming book, "Homes without Hands," which portrays many of the wonders of

bird architecture.

In collecting nests one must go prepared to saw off branches, to cut

sections of grassy earth, to gather up big tufts of grass, and transport

all these to some safe destination. Very often it will be necessary to

protect a nest by filling its cavity with some soft material, and then with

fine thread or wire to wrap it securely to the limb on which it is placed.

Or again, it may be necessary to remove a nest temporarily from its resting

place, wrap it thoroughly, and transport it separately to the museum, to be

put in its place later on.

[Illustration: FIG. 22.--Wire Standard for Nests.]

Most naked nests, _i.e._, those that have been plucked from their

resting-place, require to be wrapped to keep them from gradually falling

to pieces. This may be done with fine thread of the same color as the

outside materials of the nest, or, what Captain Bendire uses and recommends

as being better, the finest kind of wire which, in large cities, can be

bought, neatly made up on spools, at five to ten cents a spool. The wire or

thread is wound on quite as one would wind thread on a ball, except that

the wire must never be allowed to cross the cavity of the nest, which would

at once make it conspicuous. Put on only enough winding to hold the nest

well together, and distribute it so that the wire will not be noticed when

the nest is placed on exhibition.

For the display of naked nests, Captain Bendire uses a very simple but

ingenious little standard made of four wires twisted together so as to form

an upright stem, a horizontal platform of the right size, with four

perpendicular standards to receive and hold the nest. These standards are

easily bent to conform to the shape of the nest, and if the upper ends

project above the nest they are snipped off with a pair of cutting pliers.

The illustration on page 93 (Fig. 22) shows the exact character of the wire

standard, and Fig. 23 shows it in use, supporting a naked nest. Captain

Bendire's method of labelling his nests is also shown in full. It is to be

noted that the locality of the specimen exhibited, and the name of the

collector, appears in full upon the label--two features which should never

be omitted on a specimen that is of sufficient value to occupy a place in a

museum. Nevertheless, by less careful curators both these statements are

frequently omitted from labels.

[Illustration: FIG. 23.--Nest on Wire Standard, with Labels.]

COLLECTING EGGS.--In connection with a collection of nests, each nest

holding its own lawful and original contents, a good collection of birds'

eggs possesses much interest and beauty.

In collecting and preserving eggs, the most difficult feature of all is to

remove the embryos successfully. In the days when I diligently collected

eggs in many lands, it seemed to me that out of every dozen eggs I

gathered, about thirteen contained from one to two embryos each! But there

are ways in which this difficulty can be successfully overcome.

The full set of eggs laid by a bird for one brood is called a "clutch," and

in collecting it is of scientific importance that whole sets should be

collected and always kept separate, and the number of eggs in each set

taken should be recorded.

Eggs are always blown through a small, round hole in the middle of one

side, preferably in each instance on the poorest side of the egg, if it has

one. Of course, the smaller the egg, the smaller the drill must be, and the

greater the care in handling. It is often a good plan to pierce the shell

with a needle in order to furnish the drill a point of attack. If an egg is

cracked, or happens to be of such value that it must be saved at all

hazards, reinforce it by pasting narrow strips of goldbeater's skin or

court-plaster across the line of fracture.

Having drilled the hole, insert the end of a small wire, having a small

portion of the end bent at a right angle, and if the embryo has not begun

to develop, or happens to be quite small and soft, twirl the wire rapidly

between your thumb and finger, to thoroughly break up the contents of the

egg. Having accomplished this, insert the tip of your blow-pipe (the best

in the world consists of a tube of glass bent at a right angle and

terminating in a fine point, with the large end set in the end of a rubber

bulb, which saves the mouth and lungs all trouble) and with gentle and

gradual pressure blow in air. Hold the egg with the hole downward, of

course, so that the contents will run out freely. Go slowly and carefully,

even coaxingly, for too great pressure will burst any ordinary egg in two

parts very neatly. If the embryo is small and disposed to be accommodating,

help it out by inserting the point of your smallest scissors, snipping it

to pieces, and then drawing out the parts, one by one, with your smallest

forceps.

Having emptied the egg of its contents, introduce some clear water by way

of the blow-pipe, wash out the inside thoroughly, and in case the egg is in

a clean, healthy condition, it can now be laid away on cotton or cornmeal,

with the hole downward, to drain and get dry. Observe this point, however.

The thin, membranous lining of an egg, which the point of the drill pierces

but cannot cut away, often closes together inside the hole so closely as to

retain, for some time, whatever water might chance to remain. For this

reason it was my custom to cut away this membrane around the edges of the

hole. Captain Bendire remarks that "eggs that have been thoroughly cleaned

will retain their original color much better, and insects or mice are not

so apt to trouble them."

REMOVING LARGE EMBRYOS.--It often happens that eggs are taken quite near

the hatching point, containing embryos so lusty in size, and so "very

fillin'" that their successful ejectment seems impossible. _Nil

desperandum._ The way out of the difficulty is through a very small hole.

On this point I appealed to the highest authority, Captain Bendire, and he

kindly gave me, in general substance, the following directions:

In the first place, make up your mind to go slow, and take plenty of time.

If the egg is valuable and the embryo is large, reinforce the egg all over

with strips of goldbeater's skin or court-plaster. Having drilled a fairly

large hole, then insert the head of a needle in a small stick for a handle,

and with the point pierce the embryo in twenty or thirty places. The egg

sac, which is always present, should be taken out, if possible with the

forceps, to give room for water.

Having cleared out the egg as far as possible, fill it up with water to

assist in the decomposition of the embryo. Cover the bottom of a box with a

layer of cornmeal or sawdust; lay the egg on this, with the hole upward

(still full of water), cover the box, and place it under a stove or in any

other place warm enough to hasten the process of decomposition. Work at the

egg a little about every alternate day, but without hurrying matters, and

keep this process in operation until the embryo softens, falls to pieces,

and is ready to be drawn out piecemeal. In removing a large embryo, try to

get hold of the tip of the mandible with the small forceps, so that it can

be drawn out, point foremost, without splitting the shell.

Eggs that emit an offensive odor after they have been blown need to be

rinsed out with carbolic acid and water, or some equally good disinfectant.

It is, of course, to be understood that eggs must be clean on the outside

before they are fit for the cabinet. Usually soap and warm water is

sufficient to remove dirt and stains, but occasionally a particularly hard

case calls for the addition of a little washing soda in the water. The last

washing, however, should always be in clear water.

Inasmuch as a label cannot be attached to an egg, the data necessary to

give the egg a respectable position in the oological world must be written

on the under side of the egg itself, either in lead pencil or India ink,

which is capable of being erased, at will.

The following are the data that should be recorded on every egg collected

and kept:

1. Name of species, or number in A.O.U. check list, if North American.

2. Collector's number, which belongs to _every egg_ of a given set, and

refers to his catalogue and field notes.

3. Number of eggs in the set, or "clutch."

4. Date in full.

In packing eggs for shipment, a great many small boxes of wood or tin are

absolutely essential, and in these the eggs must be carefully packed in

cotton, each one separated from the rest of the world by a layer of cotton.

It is an excellent plan to wrap every large egg separately in cotton, as

oranges are wrapped in papers. Captain Bendire recommends the making of

divisions, one for each egg, with strips of pasteboard, like the crates in

which egg producers pack eggs for shipment to market. This gives each egg a

compartment by itself, with a bit of soft cotton cloth at top and bottom.

If produce dealers can afford to take such care of eggs worth only thirty

cents per dozen, surely oologists can do the same when they are within the

pale of civilization, and can get the materials.

At the National Museum the duplicate eggs are stored in small, rectangular,

shallow pasteboard trays, or half boxes, each of which has its bottom

covered very neatly and exactly with a section of cotton wadding, which

gives a soft, springy cushion for the eggs to lie on without the

undesirable fluffy looseness of ordinary cotton batting.

PART II.--TAXIDERMY.

_Keeping everlastingly at it brings success._

CHAPTER XII.

THE LABORATORY AND ITS APPOINTMENTS.

It would be impossible for me to dwell too strongly upon the importance,

nay, even the vital necessity to the taxidermist, of a commodious and

suitable workroom, and a good supply of proper tools and materials. Anyone

setting up a store of any kind meets the expenditures for fixtures and

furniture as a matter of course; but the average taxidermist would consider

it a killing thing to invest from $100 to $200 in good tools and

materials. First-class tools, and a good assortment of them, are

indispensable allies in the production of the finest kind of work in the

shortest possible time.

In taxidermy let us have no making of bricks without straw. As well might

an artist attempt to paint a grand picture with a sash tool as a

taxidermist attempt to mount fine specimens with a dull knife, an old file,

and a pair of rusty pliers.

Let us suppose we are fitting up a taxidermic laboratory in which to mount

all kinds of vertebrate animals, great and small. To begin with, we must

have a good room, if possible 15 X 25 feet, or even larger, with _good

light_, a high ceiling, and an abundant supply of water. There must be

somewhere a storeroom for bulky materials, and a drying-room for freshly

mounted specimens. There must be provided somewhere, for the wet mammal

skins, a big, box-like tank lined with sheet lead, for very large objects,

and some alcohol barrels for smaller ones. These must be provided with

tight covers, or the salt-and-alum bath will evaporate with great rapidity.

After the above, our laboratory will require the following

FURNITURE AND FIXTURES.--A heavy work-table, 8 feet long, 4 feet wide, and

2 feet 6 inches high; top 1-1/2 inch thick.

A tool case and chest of drawers.

A stove, a chopping-block, a heavy bench vise.

A grindstone, a blacksmith's anvil, and portable forge.

A water-tight platform on castors, on which to stand large mammals that are

wet and dripping.

TOOLS.

2 killing-knives. |1 machinist's hammer.

2 cartilage-knives. |1 hatchet, to lend.

1 pair shears, and 1 pair fine scissors. |1 sharp hatchet, to use.

1 draw-shave, adjustable handles. |1 cold chisel.

2 skin-scrapers, of sizes. |1 set stone-cutter's chisels.

3 gouges, of sizes. |1 punch.

3 chisels, of sizes. |1 tap wrench.

1 screw-driver. |1 pair calipers.

1 2-foot rule. |1 set of hack saws, for iron and

| brass.

1 tape-measure, 12 feet. |1 set iron fillers, of sizes.

1 thread-cutter, for iron. |1 set wooden fillers, of sizes.

1 thread-cutter, for brass. |1 set modelling tools.

3 pair pliers, of sizes. |1 set of files.

3 pair cutting nippers. |1 set of paint brushes.

4 pair forceps, of sizes. |1 set of brushes for hair and

| teeth.

1 hand vise. |1 gluepot.

1 hand drill. |1 set of awls.

2 monkey wrenches, of sizes. |1 set of glover's needles, 3

| sizes.

1 ratchet brace, with bits and drills. |Best linen sewing twine, or

4 gimlet bits, of sizes. |"gilling thread," of two or three

| sizes.

1 hand-saw. |1 iron thimble.

1 key-hole saw. |1 spirit-lamp, or gas-stove.

1 claw hammer. |Pails, kettles, cups, bowls, etc.

1 tack hammer. |12 spools of Barbour's linen

| thread.

MATERIALS.--Excelsior; hemp tow of two qualities, coarse and fine, both of

long fibre; flax tow, such as upholsterers use; cotton batting; oat straw;

potter's clay; good glue; plaster Paris; arsenical soap; spirits of

turpentine; benzine; salt by the barrel; ground alum by the hundredweight;

pine and hemlock lumber, one to two inches thick; 2×4 pine scantling; an

assortment of annealed wire; rods of Norway iron, from 3/16 inch to 1 inch;

nails, tacks, wrought-iron staples, screws, nuts, bolts, wrapping twine;

rosettes for iron standards; washers, all sizes; alcohol, shellac, white

hard oil finish (varnish); muriatic acid, sheet wax, sperm oil; glass eyes,

all sizes, kinds and colors; unlimited pluck, patience, and perseverance.

If the worker intends to mount only birds and small mammals, he will need

but a very small portion of the tools and materials enumerated above. But

fie! Where is the taxidermist worthy of the name who will admit that his

resources are limited, or that he is not able and ready to "set up" any

animal that may be brought to him, no matter how big or how bad it is.

Perish the thought that he is not able to cope with dog, deer, or even

elephant.

We now start on the supposition that you have acquired all the tools and

materials you are likely to need, and that our subsequent work is not going

to halt or hang fire on account of the lack of this or that article.

CHAPTER XIII.

PRELIMINARY WORK IN MOUNTING MAMMALS.

RELAXING DRY SKINS.--Nearly all mammal skins that go from one country to

another are sent in a dry state, and it is a rare exception to obtain a

foreign skin in any other condition. It therefore behooves the mammal

taxidermist to become a thorough expert in softening dry skins of all kinds

and sizes, and bringing them into mountable condition.

To relax a dry skin, rip it open, remove the filling material, and immerse

it in a weak but _clean_ salt-and-alum bath (see Chapter IV.) until it

becomes soft, be the time required three days or three weeks. If you are in

a great hurry, soak the skin at first for a brief period in clear water,

and if it is milk-warm, so much the better. Sometimes a skin is so old and

hard and refractory that the bath of salt and alum seems to make no

impression upon it, in which case try clear water. In a few hours it will

yield and collapse, and then it must be put into the bath, or the water

will soon macerate it, and cause the hair to slip off. You can leave the

skin in the salt-and-alum bath as long as you choose without endangering it

in any way.

The inside of every dry skin usually has over it a hard, inelastic coating

which, when once gotten rid of by shaving or scraping, leaves the skin

underneath measurably soft and elastic, according to its kind. If the skin

is a small one, or no larger than that of a wolf, the best way to get it in

working order is to lay it flat upon the table, and go at it vigorously

with the skin-scraper (see Fig. 24). In this there must be no half-way

measures, no modesty, no shirking. Bear on hard, dig away at the same spot

with all your energy, first in one direction, then crosswise, then

diagonally. Scrape as if you were scraping on a wager, and presently the

skin will become so thinned down it will become quite soft, and even

elastic. This is hard work, it starts the perspiration and keeps it going,

but it will conquer the hardest skin that ever was made.

To make a skin sufficiently elastic to mount, it must be turned wrong-side

out and scraped all over thoroughly with a skin-scraper, from nose to tip

of tail, and phalanges. Small skins yield far more readily and kindly than

the larger ones. The skins that are hardest, horniest, and most refractory

are those of the capybara, all of the _Suidæ_ (hogs), and tropical deer. I

have mounted skins of these that when first softened were precisely like

horn,--and at best with such subjects the resulting specimens are only

"passable."

Sometimes when the scraper can make no impression, it becomes necessary to

laboriously pare down the inside of an entire skin with the knife before

scraping it. This is tedious, but effective, for a sharp knife leaves no

room for argument.

[Illustration: FIG. 24.--Skin-Scrapers, about one-fourth actual size.]

All skins larger than a gray wolf, whether they be fresh or dry, need to be

stretched on a beam, and pared down with a sharp draw-shave that has

adjustable handles. This useful instrument can be bought at any large

hardware store for $1.25. Keep it thoroughly sharp. The beam should be

about seven feet in length, and six by three inches in size, and laid flat.

One end of it is to be bolted firmly down to your bench by two movable iron

bolts, and the half which projects beyond the edge of the table must have

both of its upper edges rounded off so that it will represent half a

cylinder with the convexity uppermost. The table itself must be fastened

securely in place. Throw the skin over the rounded end of this beam, drive

a stout "scratch-awl" through it, just beyond the reach of your arms,

stretch and flatten the skin upon the beam, and with the draw-shave

carefully shave down the entire skin until it is thin enough.

Be very careful at first, until your hands acquire skill, or you will cut

through the skin, which, in the case of an animal like a hair seal means an

unsightly, permanent defect. Do not be afraid of paring a skin too thin so

long as you stop at the roots of the hair.

Of course you can not pare down the skin of the head and feet with the

draw-shave, and these must be treated with the knife and scraper. The skin

of the head of every mammal must be pared down and scraped particularly

thin all over, especially the eyelids, lips, and nostrils, so that when

these parts are backed up with clay you can model them into exquisitely

fine form and expression. If you slight the skin of the head, good-by to

all expression; you will merely be able to "stuff" it, and that is all. If

its features look coarse, uncouth, and wooden, it will probably be because

the thickness and inelasticity of the skin defies your art.

Of course the joints of the feet must be got into working order. The leg

bones and skull require to be thoroughly scraped and cleaned, and the skin

itself worked up as nearly as possible to the condition of a fresh

subject.

CARVING WOODEN SKULLS AND LEG BONES.--It is absolutely essential that

every mammal to be mounted should have a skull, and all save the smallest

should have leg bones also. If the skull and leg bones that belong in a

skin are missing, I invariably carve others of the same size out of soft

pine to replace the lost members. These bones are imperatively necessary to

give shape and length to the various joints and angles of the limbs, to

shape the head, to give a foundation for the attachment of wires, and to

build upon generally. Very often the skull of an animal is of such value to

science that it must be kept out of the skin at all hazards, and exhibited

separately. Then it must be duplicated in wood.

Every mammal taxidermist _must_ learn how to carve wooden bones, and the

quicker he becomes expert at it, the better. Very few tools are required,

and these are as follows: A small hatchet, a pair of 8-inch calipers, a

pair of 8-inch dividers, gouges of three sizes, 1/4, 1/2, and 3/4 inch;

chisels of about four sizes between 3/8 and 1 inch, a draw-shave, a

spoke-shave, a good sharp pocket-knife, and the usual supply of boring

tools.

[Illustration: PLATE V. PARING DOWN A LARGE MAMMAL SKIN.]

To carve a wooden skull, proceed as follows: If you have not the genuine

skull to use as a pattern, you must procure one from an animal of the same

species, and ascertain its size in comparison with what the wooden skull

must be, _e.g._, whether it be larger or smaller. Then procure a piece of

soft pine timber, free from knots, and thick enough to turn out a skull of

the proper size. If this can not be found in one piece, glue together

several pieces of pine until they form a block of the proper size. On the

top of this block place your genuine skull, and trace its outline on the

wood, making your outline larger or smaller, as it may need to be, and

bilaterally symmetrical. Now take your hatchet and hew the two sides of the

block down exactly to this outline. This represents the "ground plan" of

the skull.

To get the side elevation, sketch out on the side of this block a side-view

outline of the skull, and then hew down to that. With your dividers, locate

exactly the inner edge of the orbits, and then mark out with a pencil the

entire circle of each orbit. With a gouge carve out the hollows neatly, and

then with your flat chisels attack the cranium, round off its angles, and

so work over the entire skull.

Measure frequently with the calipers to see that the dimensions are

correct. There is no need to go into any of the details of the back part,

or basi-occipital portion of the skull, nor with any other details except

those that lie on the surface. It is important to shape the orbits,

zygomatic arch, the frontal bones, the muzzle and lower jaw, quite

accurately, for these bones bear scarcely any flesh. In making skulls for

apes and monkeys the greatest care is necessary to produce the facial

angle, orbits, and muzzle, so sharply characteristic of the various

families.

When a wooden skull is used, the mouth should always be closed, unless it

is very necessary to have it open. While it is possible to take moulds from

a real skull, and cast a full set of teeth in plaster or lead, or to set

real teeth, or painted wooden imitations, into a wooden skull, the result

is generally unsatisfactory to a critical eye. When teeth are cast and

painted, the paint always changes color with age, causing the teeth to look

"made up." If you can not have a real skull with genuine teeth in it, for

whatever mammal you are mounting, no one has any right to require that it

be mounted with open mouth, unless the head is to go on a rug instead of a

scientific specimen.

Observe the following precautions in making a skull:

1. Be sure that it has the proper facial angle.

2. Be sure that it is in no way too large. Better have it too small than

too large.

3. Be sure that there are no sharp corners upon it anywhere, lest they come

out next to the skin in mounting, and cause trouble.

When a skull is finished, bore a hole (or two in some cases) through it

from the occiput to the centre of the nose or mouth, for the passage of the

neck irons or wires that are to support the head.

The principles involved in carving skulls apply equally to carving leg

bones, except in this work there is much to be done with the draw-shave and

spoke-shave. Of course they require to be wired together at the joints,

with two wires at each joint, so that the space between them may be

channelled out with a gouge to receive the leg iron.

SEWING UP HOLES IN SKINS.--After thoroughly cleaning a skin, take a

glover's three-cornered needle of the proper size, and a waxed thread from

a ball of strong linen thread, or "gilling twine," and sew up all the

holes that are to be found in the skin. It requires some little ingenuity

sometimes to know just how to trim the edges of a hole so that it can be

sewed up without puckering the skin, but a little experimenting will soon

reveal the way.

If you have to sew up a cut which has no hair to cover it, sew tightly with

a curve-pointed needle, starting the stitches on the inside well back from

the edge, and sewing only three-quarters of the way through the skin. Draw

the edges tightly together. When the sewing is finished, place a flat bar

of iron or wood underneath the seam, and hammer it with a hammer all the

way along. This will flatten the ridge formed by the sewing, and will

render the seam almost invisible.

In order to do fine work, a taxidermist must be quite expert in the use of

the needle and thread. In sewing up skins there are two points to be aimed

at, viz.:

1. To sew strongly.

2. To sew so neatly that the seam will be as nearly invisible as possible.

For general work one must also have common round needles, and No. 30 thread

for very fine sewing, as, for instance, torn eye corners or lips, and holes

in the face where the skin is very thin and there is little hair, or none

at all; three-cornered glover's needles, Nos. 00, 1, 2, 3; and three sizes

of strong linen sewing twine. In the beginning of your work acquire the

habit of being particular about the size of the needle and thread you use

upon a skin, and never let them be larger than necessary. When special

strength is needed, double the thread and wax it with beeswax to prevent

its rotting. Always sew with the ball stitch, _e.g._, from the inside of

the skin to the outside, every stitch. It is often convenient to use a

curved needle, and this can be made by heating a glover's needle to a red

heat in the flame of a spirit lamp and curving it while hot.

HOW TO MAKE LONG NEEDLES.--In making manikins, and also for other purposes,

it is necessary to have a set of needles varying in length from six to

eighteen inches, or even longer. You can buy needles up to ten inches in

length from anyone who keeps upholsterers' supplies, but the longer ones

you must make for yourself. To do this, take a piece of No. 12 or 13 steel

wire and grind one end to a point. For the eye, heat the other end red hot,

flatten it with the hammer, then heat it again, lay it on a bar of lead,

and with a brad-awl and hammer punch an eye in it while hot.

NECK IRONS IN MOUNTING MAMMALS.--Never allow a neck iron to come through

the top of the skull, through the forehead, or through the face anywhere.

The neck iron, which must support the entire weight of the head and neck,

should pass through the back of the skull and into the nasal cavity. Let

the iron extend some inches beyond the end of the nose until the neck is

made, and the head placed in position, for not until then can you tell what

length the neck iron should be. When the head is well-nigh finished, take a

small hack-saw and saw off the neck iron close up to the nasal cavity, so

far from the end of the nose that by no possible chance can the animal

shrink so much in drying that the end of the iron will protrude through one

of the nostrils and into view.

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.

CHAPTER XV.

MOUNTING SMALL MAMMALS.

In attempting to give the beginner a fair start in the general work of

mounting small mammals of all sorts, from mice up to small foxes, I will

describe in detail the entire process of mounting a typical specimen, which

in this instance will be a squirrel. This will embody all the general

principles involved, and after having laid this foundation we will proceed

to consider exceptional cases, and describe the manner in which they must

be met. The exceptional cases are bats, rabbits, young animals of the

smaller species, and a few others.

We will assume that the subject before us is either a "dry skin" which has

been fully relaxed, scraped, and rendered perfectly pliable and elastic, or

else "a fresh skin," _i.e._, one which has been preserved in our

antiseptic solution (the salt-and-alum bath) or possibly in alcohol, and

has therefore never been dried. For the sake of the beginner's courage,

which should never be taken out of him at the very first onset by putting

him on a dry skin of doubtful quality, we will take the skin of a fine,

old, gray squirrel (_Sciurus carolinensis_) which lies in the bath waiting

to be immortalized--or something else.

It may easily happen that for good and sufficient reasons the beginner has

no salt-and-alum bath, and can not prepare one. In that event the skin can

be mounted immediately after it is taken off the animal, only it is

necessary to apply to it _after_ the arsenical soap, as directed hereafter,

a copious quantity of powdered alum. If you have no arsenical soap, then as

you proceed with the mounting moisten the inside of the skin with water,

and rub on powdered alum and arsenic, mixed in equal parts, and be sure

that the skin is everywhere coated with it eventually. This leaves the fur

dry and clean, and will save you the trouble of drying and dressing it.

On taking our squirrel skin from the bath to mount it we find its texture

is firm, and it is somewhat shrunken in size, so that when it is filled out

it will not stretch all out of proportion. If either in haste or

carelessness you have left a layer of flesh upon the skin, pare it off

until the inside of the skin is quite clean. If any holes have been cut by

bullets or knives, sew then up from the inside with a strong linen thread

and a No. 3 glover's needle--three-cornered.

Now for the wires. Measure the leg bones from the sole of the foot to the

end of the thigh-bone, add three inches for what the wire must project

beyond the sole of the foot, five inches more at the other end, and cut a

No. 15 annealed iron wire[8] of the length thus obtained, for each hind

leg. The length of the wires for the forelegs is obtained in the same way.

Thus for our squirrel, the wires for the hind legs must be fourteen inches

long, and for the forelegs twelve.

Cut another No. 15 wire twice the length from the back of the head to the

root of the tail, and this will be the body wire eighteen inches long. The

tail wire must be smaller, No. 17, long enough to reach from the tip of the

tail to the centre of the body--seventeen inches. Straighten all these

wires carefully, lay them together on the table, and remember the purpose

of each. If they are rusty, rub them with sand paper. File one end of the

tail wire to a tapering point, for the tip of our squirrel's tail is very

slender.

We are now ready to make one of the legs, and will begin with one of the

hind legs. Take one of the two longest wires, pass one end of it through

the slit in the skin at the bottom of the foot, let it project three inches

beyond the sole of the foot, and up into the skin of the leg. Now bend the

wire until it fits closely along the under side of the leg bones as seen in

the accompanying illustration. Tie it firmly with linen thread to the bones

of the foot, to the _tibia_ and the _femur_, as seen in the accompanying

illustration.

[Illustration: FIG. 25.--Leg-making and Wiring.]

Now take fine, clean tow, of good long fibre, and, beginning at the foot,

proceed to wrap it around the leg bones, smoothly and evenly, to replace

the muscles which have been cut away. The lower part of the leg is flat on

the inside and round on the outside, almost bare of flesh at the ankle.

Remember always that the flesh on the "calf" of the leg, and the forearm,

lies _behind_ the bones, swelling out toward the back and the inside of the

limb, and in front the skin lies upon the bone itself. Observe this, and

build up the muscles accordingly. The thigh is broad and much flattened,

rounded on the outside only, as you must have noticed when you skinned it

and cut off the flesh, and the knee-pan is prominent. To make the leg this

shape, first wind some tow around the thigh bone, then make up a little

roll of tow a little larger than your forefinger, place it along the under

side of the thigh and wind it fast there with tow. By a judicious

continuation of this process, you can make the thigh of the proper width

and flatness both above and below the bone. At no point is a squirrel's

thigh more than three-fourths of an inch thick, and the calf, the arm, and

the forearm are even less. By reference to the tracing made of the animal

in the flesh, you will be able to tell the width of the legs at all points

and correct your work all the way along.

In all thin-haired animals the tendon of the heel must be made by drilling

a hole through the end of the heel-bone, passing a small wire through for

half its length, then twisting the wire together half-way up to the knee.

Wind a little fine tow around this wire, gradually increasing the quantity

from the heel upward until the false tendon is complete, and the upper end

is wound in with the tow which forms the lower part of the thigh. In small

mammals which have long, thick hair, as our squirrel for example, it is not

necessary to make the tendon, as it does not show. Remember there is no

flesh on the upper part of the foot-bones, but considerable underneath.

It is not best to make the legs extremely hard, or they will be difficult

to bend, but at the same time the tow must not be put on in a loose,

slovenly manner. Avoid making the legs too large; the opposite extreme is

the lesser evil of the two.

When the leg is finished, anoint the skin of that leg with arsenical soap,

rub either a little wet clay or thick soap over the tow leg so that it will

slip into the skin easily, then turn the skin up over it and adjust it from

the foot up. If the leg does not fit, turn the skin back and alter its

shape until it does fit perfectly. This done satisfactorily, insert a

little clay or finely chopped tow in the bottom of the foot, bend the wire

so that it leaves the foot _at a right angle_, sew up the cut, and you are

ready to proceed in like manner with the three remaining legs. Be sure to

make both legs of each pair precisely alike if you wish to have a

healthy-looking animal when finished.

Having made all the legs, the next thing is the tail. Take some of your

finest tow in your right hand, the tail wire in your left, begin at the

pointed end, and by turning the wire constantly from left to right, let it

wind up the tow which runs between your right thumb and finger. Make the

tail of a regular taper, perfectly smooth, and not too large. Try it in the

skin occasionally to insure accuracy. If the first one is a failure,

discard it and make another. When at last you have what is required, anoint

the inside of the tail skin with arsenical soap, slip the false tail into

its place, and if the tail has been slit open, sew it up neatly all the way

along, commencing at the tip.

Now punch a small hole in the back of the skull a little above the

occipital opening, pass the end of the body wire through it, force the end

through into the nasal cavity and on out at the end of the nose. Let the

end of the wire also pass through one of the nostrils of the skin for about

two inches. Now put some soft clay on the sides of the skull and jaw to

replace the muscles which have been cut away, and fill the orbits with the

same material. Anoint the skin of the head and neck with the arsenical

soap, turn it back over the skull, and when the skull is once more in its

proper position in the skin, which can best be determined by noticing

whether the eye opening comes over the centre of the orbit, drive a tack

over each eye through the skin and into the bone.

Another tack at the top of the head will also do good service in holding

the skull in its place while the grand struggle with the body is going on,

for the head is the last thing finished. Life is too short and space too

valuable to allow me to explain fully why all these things must be done,

but if you neglect any of these simple directions you will very soon find

out why they were given.

The legs and tail are wired and made, the skull is in its place, with one

end of the body wire passing through it, and we are now ready to wire all

the parts of the animal together. The skin lies on the clean table before

us, right side out, with the legs in the same position as when we drew the

outline. Bend the inner ends of the foreleg wires back from the head of

the humerus at an obtuse angle, and let them cross each other like the

limbs of an X, as seen in the accompanying figure. At the point where they

cross each other, turn a little ring in the body wire, six inches from the

end, just large enough for the two wires to pass through easily. For this

purpose you will find a pair of round-nosed pliers convenient. Pass the end

of each foreleg wire through the ring, and let them cross again, with the

wire of the left leg underneath the other.

[Illustration: FIG. 26.--Wiring Together.]

Now refer to your outline, measure the distance between the extremities of

the toes, and it will tell you exactly how to adjust the leg wires so as to

get the right distance between the two ends of the humeri, or, in other

words, the shoulders. The wire between the head of the humerus and the ring

represents the scapula, and, if rightly measured, will enable us later on

to pose the forelegs with ease and success.

Now, with the round-nosed pliers in the left hand, grasp the three wires

firmly at the ring, lay hold of the two leg wires with the flat-nosed

pliers and give two complete turns to the right, twisting the wires

together as tightly as possible. Bend up the body wire to one of the leg

wires, and, leaving out the other, give these two a couple of turns. Take

the other leg wire and body wire and give them a twist. If the legs are now

_solidly_ together, it is enough, but if they are not, this twisting

process must be continued until they are perfectly firm. No looseness, if

you please.

This done, straighten out the body wire once more, arrange the skin as

before, according to your outlines, and you will soon see that the ring for

the hind legs must be turned about five inches below the first one. The

ends of the hind-leg wires are bent slightly forward (toward the head) from

the ends of the femora, and also cross each other in the ring. After

getting the hind legs the right distance apart, give the wires two turns as

before, then bend the free end of the body wire straight up and over until

it points toward the head. Proceed with it precisely as with the other leg

wires until the hind legs are immovably fixed on it. Now give the free ends

of the wires each a turn around the middle of the body wire and thus fasten

all together, forming a backbone of twisted iron wire.

The end of the tail wire must pass under the hind-leg wires (as the skin

lies on its back), and after giving a turn or two around the wire backbone,

tie it fast with strong twine. The tail must be as firmly fixed upon the

body wire as though it was soldered there. This done, wrap a goodly

quantity of tow tightly and smoothly around the wire backbone, so that the

numerous ends of wire, and the irregularities in the mass of twisted wire,

will not cause trouble when we come to fill the body. Now that you no

longer need to put your hands inside the skin, anoint it most thoroughly

with the soap, from the back of the head to the base of the tail. While the

skin is absorbing the soap, take a hatchet and chop up finely a quantity of

coarse tow. With your longest forceps, cover the inside of the skin with a

layer of cut tow, placing it between the wires and the skin. It is highly

important to have a good thick cushion of it next to the skin at the

shoulders, hips, and along the back.

[Illustration: FIG. 26_a._--The Legs Wired Together.]

This is the time to give the animal the attitude it is to have when

finished. All the members are now completely under control, and we can give

the animal any pose we wish. Bend up each leg at a right angle to its

present position, making the bend abruptly at the head of each femur, and

thus leave between them the same distance that separated them when they

joined the pelvis in life. Likewise bend up the foreleg, by making nearly a

right angle in the leg wire at the head of each humerus, and leave the

proper space between the shoulders. With the play that is given to the

forelegs, by means of the distance left between the shoulder point and the

ring, we are able to adjust the forelegs with the greatest freedom, to move

each shoulder either up or down, and increase or lessen the distance

between them at will.

The most pert and characteristic attitude of a squirrel is sitting up on

its haunches, either on the alert, eating something held in its paws, or,

perhaps, washing its face with its paws. This attitude is rather difficult

to get, but it is well worth trying for. Bend each hind leg at the knee

until the thigh touches the calf and rests upon it. Bend the ankle-joint

until the foot makes an acute angle with the calf. Make a very decided

curve in the backbone, so as to throw the body well forward between the

knees, which must come nearly opposite the centre of the body. Push the

hind legs up into the body so that the squirrel can sit upon his tail.

The elbows drop down until they almost touch the knees, which is partly

accomplished by curving the back. Just below the shoulders the backbone

must be curved, to throw the head and shoulders up, and hold them well

erect. Give the head the pose you wish it to have, slightly turned to one

side, let us say.

The next step, a very important one, is filling the body. If you do not do

it intelligently, your squirrel will need to find a grave in the ash

barrel. The mechanical part of this filling process is exceedingly simple,

and everything, or nearly everything, depends upon how much you know of the

anatomy of the animal before you. This is a private matter between yourself

and _nature_. Your hand will nearly always be able to keep up with your eye

if you give it a fair chance.

With your long forceps, which work like a dextrous thumb and finger eight

inches long, pick up the chopped tow, and little by little insert it in the

skin where it is needed. First fill out above the backbone until you get

the desired outline, in profile, of the back and shoulders from tail to

head. Then fill out the shoulders and form them properly. Fill in the neck,

first around the base of the skull, and sew up the neck skin from the end

of the cut downward for about two inches, and without cutting off your

thread insert more chopped tow in the neck and shoulders, packing it

firmly, if you have the proportions right. Do not allow the tow to roll up

into wads and make the skin full of hills and hollows on the outside. The

pressure of the tow on all points of the skin should be the same, and the

filling must be packed firmly and evenly, so that the finished animal will

keep its shape tenaciously in the struggle for existence, and not collapse

at a firm touch.

One secret of success in filling the body lies in gradually and equally

filling out the _entire body_ to fair proportions before finishing any one

part. Give the animal its exact attitude, then proceed. If there is an

apparent lack of skin at any particular point, attack that first, and fill

it out. You will soon find how easy it is to draw skin from one part of the

body to another by judicious filling.

Having finished the neck and shoulders, leave that part and go to the

haunches. Fill around the base of the tail, the hips, the upper part of the

thighs, and the abdomen. Be careful to make both sides alike. Commence at

the root of the tail and sew up the opening for about two inches, without

catching the hair in your stitches, after which you may bore two small

holes in a pine board, the proper distance apart, pass the two hind leg

wires through, and set the little animal up. This is only a trial trip, and

if you find the feet are not the proper distance apart (or the squirrel

does not walk properly, if you have put him in a walking attitude), or does

not sit properly, take him off the board and remedy the defects. When you

have corrected his attitude, proceed with the filling, sewing up from both

below and above, until the body is properly shaped, filled full of tow, and

the opening entirely sewn up.

Now comb the tow out of the damp fur, and, if it is dirty, wash it with

washing soda, soap and water until it is thoroughly clean. Place the animal

upon its board pedestal, and correct the attitude with the utmost care

before you bend the wires up underneath the board and clinch them fast. If

the specimen is even a moderate success thus far, we will go on with it.

If the animal you are mounting is a tree-climber, and you wish to mount it

upon a tree limb, select one for the purpose, and, according to your desire

to have it nearly perpendicular, slanting, or horizontal, saw it off at the

lower end, plant it firmly upon a rough board pedestal, and fasten it by

putting two long, stout screws through the board and up into the base of

the branch. Put your specimen upon the branch as nearly in position as

possible, mark the places where the holes should be bored, and bore them

with a bit of the proper size. You can then run the ends of the leg wires

through, draw the feet down closely, and clinch the wires on the opposite

side.