In the somewhat strange and slightly perverse world of taxidermy, the European mount stands alone. Stripped of nearly everything, it pushes the subject to an almost unrecognizable state. And maybe here is where it might finally come into its own.

Not a wax museum replication of its former self posed in a frozen state, which honestly is pretty sad most of the time, but something totally unknowable.

I’ve come across these many times, quite naturally in Europe of all places, and they always leave me with a feeling of interest rather than pity. Here, guarding the garden gate, it seems to fit. Surrounded by the living, it no longer pretends to be what it was. It has become something else entirely, more sculpture than specimen.

In time the weather and the garden itself may ultimately decide what it becomes. No sadness in that.