Unseen desperation and suffering is part of nature, failed struggles to survive happen constantly outside the boundaries of our human radar. When death in nature does touch me, it often evokes empathy beyond anything the five o’clock news could generate. I was walking the Blue Trail with a park ranger at Buescher State Park recently. As we turned a corner, the sun strobing through the pines on the trail ahead, we spotted a dead animal. We cautiously moved closer. Slowly we came to recognize a young female grey fox, with no apparent wounds or physical trauma. It was as unexpected and horrific as a traffic accident.
She was astonishingly beautiful in her salt and pepper coat, soft and silky. An exquisite bushy tail blossomed out full length behind her, as if she collapsed while running. It was difficult to see such a winsome and graceful creature, called home so early in her days. She hadn’t been dead long. The park ranger admitted having no refrigeration available or ability to harvest the pelt and skull for educational purposes. I had an idea. Who in our chapter could do this? Why Cat May of course! So the ranger agreed and I carried the young vixen back to my truck and immediately headed out to Cat’s home unannounced.
At Cat’s place, once I explained my circumstance, I was met with the concerned urgency of a trusted vet working with a beloved injured animal. Cat went into her studio, opened the door of a mini-refrigerator against one wall, pulled out two or three bottles of wine to make space, turned down the temperature control and lovingly laid the limp body into the box. Such an unselfish act would have mortified others. As we chatted about the possibilities, Cat almost unconsciously created a persona for our little fox—she called her “Foxy.” In the coming weeks we used this name like it was a family pet.
To be quite honest, I was relieved to leave Foxy in Cat’s care. She couldn’t bring Foxy back to life, but if anyone could venerate this life for others to appreciate, it would be Cat. She’s a perfectionist, cares about quality results and is tough as nails. I know nothing about skinning a fox, let alone tanning the hide. Cat May is tenacious and she isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty when it comes to making works of art. Yes, we ‘done good’ this day, Foxy! Your fate will now benefit others—far better than rotting away anonymously in the forest.
If it weren’t for my little black heart, I would spare you the gruesome details, but I think it’s important to understand what went into this endeavor—the long hours of online research, personal expense and physical effort/discomfort in bringing Foxy back to life in the minds of young students and hikers. Simply put, it’s dirty, stinky, messy work and there was no end to the obstacles standing in Cat’s way.
The first one was obviously to remove the pelt without it looking like a pack of wolves had played tug-o-war with it. Anyway you consider it, this was delicate, patient work requiring the skill of a surgeon. Knowledge is critical—you need to know what you’re doing before you do it because there’s no going back once you make a wrong cut. Cat burned the midnight oil on her computer scouring the Internet for fox skinning/tanning instructions and discovered there’s more than one way to skin a fox!
Some methods were academic and learned treatises (probably never seen a real fox), while others were near illiterate down-home formulas (probably driven more by hunger than art). Alum, the modern day version of deer brains, is not exactly available at your corner Walgreens, so Cat ran to Cabela’s to buy a tanning kit. She explains, “After reading several different sources for tanning instructions on the net, and the booklet that came with the kit, I was frustrated with the info, so I had to decide which to follow and jump right in.” After the skin was removed, Cat discovered bruise marks on both sides of Foxy’s back—like she had been clamped between toothless jaws. Still a mystery. Meanwhile, I’m thinking to myself what do you do with the carcass? Fortunately, a neighbor was interested in learning the contents of Foxy’ stomach, so the naked torso went to another good cause (probably has a torture chamber in his basement!). As it turns out, the pelt was meticulously removed with everything intact, except Foxy’s face—tip your hat to the witness protection plan! Actually, the skull is an important educational prop, much more valuable than the skin of the face.
Next, the pelt had to be scraped to remove remaining bits of flesh and membrane, then treated with a tanning solution. This toxic cocktail had to be mixed, like pancake batter, then smeared on the fleshy side of the pelt, wrapped in plastic and left to cure for 24 hours. The head was boiled, causing all Foxy’s teeth to fall out. Cat again, “Careful sieving captured all of them but that too was stinky – finger wading through bits of flesh and shapeless goo, and then the replacement puzzle began.” The skull was then degreased and the teeth carefully cemented back where they belonged. Mercy! As for the pelt, after the tanning operation, it had to be oiled and the fur cleaned with a corn meal brushing. Cat chose to display the pelt as a “sleeve,” rather than a stretched skin—another delicate procedure. This is the difference between an artist and a hacker: envisioning what you want before you have it. Because Cat wanted a sleeve style skin, she winged it. All the instructions pertained to stretched skins.
We are rich with artists in our chapter. . .some press flowers, some do origami and yet others create intricate delicacies out of glass and other natural materials. . .but only Cat works with dead animals. In her studio, you can find skulls and bones of everything from feral hogs to bobcats—a menagerie of props available to all who teach inquiring minds to appreciate wildlife. Lost Pines chapter is slowly acquiring animal pelts & skulls for our own inventory. We hope to accumulate representatives of most of the common reptiles, raptors and mammals of our region for use by hike leaders, program instructors and others involved in educating the public. This will take time because money is scarce. Cat’s reclamation of Foxy saved us over $150 in such expenses.
From a recent chapter presentation, we all learned that possessing/processing dead wildlife legally requires a permit. . .in this case, our “education” came after the fact. . . and with the blessing of a park ranger. Because accumulating these teaching props is one of our goals, we will endeavor to qualify for such a permit from TPWD. The purpose of the regulations is to protect two populations: humans and wilderness dwellers. We get that. Foxy has already been used on multiple public hikes and will likely continue to mend sadly broken connections between these two populations in the future. Methinks this is a much more fruitful result than scattered bones bleaching in the hot Texas sun, unnoticed and unappreciated. Foxy was there on the trail for only that one day. . .now she will live in the minds of others forever. If not the letter of the law, certainly the moral foundation beneath it has been upheld. Sometimes the right decision is not in the book.