Western Daily Press (Saturday)
PRESERVING CREATURES FOR ETERNITY
Taxidermy might not be the typical career choice of a woman in her 20s. But, as Melanie Greenwood discovers, Vicky Scipio took to it like a stuffed duck to water
VICKY Scipio is one of a growing vanguard of young women nationwide taking over the once masculine bastion of taxidermy - and transforming it into an ethical profession.
The 26-year-old is not into hunting, shooting or fishing. All the animals and natural artefacts in her little Glastonbury shop, Nature Preserved, have died naturally. or accidentally.
“When I opened the shop, I worried that some people wouldn’t like it,” she said, “but once I explain, they often leave with something. The natural world is everything to me.”
Vicky’s talent for preserving birds, foxes, badgers, squirrels in anatomically correct, lifelike positions, is in demand as far away as America, Canada, Australia, Taiwan, Saudi Arabia and continental Europe.
The former child tennis star, who played for Wiltshire and was a Wimbledon Junior, has long-collected stones, fossils, and deer and rams’ horns. Aged 12, her hobby took a decisive turn.
She said: “I was in the car with my family when I saw a dead fox on the road. I persuaded my parents to let me take it home, buried it and dug it up when it became a skeleton.”
Most would think that unusual – and slightly macabre – but Vicky was fascinated. She went on to study photography at university and for a while enjoyed her dream job on regional newspapers until she was made redundant and a change of career beckoned.
“I already had all these horns and skins,” she said, “so I decided to take a taxidermy course and loved it.
“I was given a tawny owl which had died from natural causes. It felt strange cutting the owl open, even though it was dead. It was as if I did not want to hurt it. The feathers were so soft and its beak and claws incredibly sharp.”
“I took the skin off slowly, like carefully peeling an orange and had to make sure there was no fat or muscle tissue left to decay. It wasn’t as gory as I thought it was going to be.
“The insides came out easily and then I washed skin and feathers with soapy water and a little white spirit. I took careful measurements and used Celltex – an insulation foam – to remake the shape, threading wire through wings and legs. The skull was filled with clay and rebuilt, with glass eyes from a specialist company. It took eight hours to complete.
“I was hooked but made a lot of early mistakes. Once, cutting into a bird’s eyeball on mum’s kitchen table, liquid spurted out onto my lip. I screamed. Mum calmly handed me a tissue. Now I’ve got a separate workshop.”
As well as birds – especially pheasants, crows, jackdaws, magpies and ravens – Vicky has tackled foxes and badgers. Mammals require a threestage process, including soaking pelts, tanning the skins from an hour to half-a-day, building up gums and re-stitching intricate stuffing with complex sewing techniques.
It is the humble pheasant, so often seen madly running across roads with a death wish, that often comes Vicky’s way.
In Vicky’s dextrous hands the males’ plumage, with its ornamental wattle and long tail, is a dazzling combination of scarlet, soft pinks, amber, pale yellow and iridescent turquoise, while the dun female is a subdued and mottled cream and brown.
She’s created pairs of beautiful wings married up as dark, almost inky blue-black fans, claws holding crystals and a badger which my surprised whippet stalled in front of, one paw in the air.
Vicky incorporates horns and claws into unique jewellery and unusual art objects. Being a taxidermist means developing the skills of a sculptor because the work requires artistry and a biological understanding to create something that will outlive the creator.
Initially, Vicky launched an online shop with website Etsy and it did so well she decided to open a physical business in Glastonbury.
This is despite the fact that taxidermy is seasonal for Vicky. She only collects in winter because summer temperatures mean animals decay
Once, cutting into a bird’s eyeball on mum’s kitchen table, liquid spurted out onto my lip. I screamed. Mum calmly handed me a tissue. Now I’ve got a separate workshop.
VICKY SCIPIO
quickly, plus birds and mammals look better with fuller winter plumage and thick coats.
It’s at this time of year, when living animals often go hungry, that Vicky will return the meat she’s removed back to woodland.
She feels one of the best things about taxidermy is to see an animal preserved in a beautiful, artistic way for hundreds of years to come.
And one of the worst is being called to a roadkill and finding the bird, badger or fox isn’t dead.
“It’s my nightmare,” says Vicky. “I’ve picked them carefully up and taken them to vets where they’ll either be put down humanely or sent on to rehabilitation and release.”
Her customer base is wide-ranging as well as global. Her oldest is nearly 80 and youngest a teenager, with farmers as fascinated as city dwellers. One friend has given Vicky her beloved dead cat, currently in the freezer waiting to be resurrected for its owner.
All that is required of taxidermy owners is to gently dust their beasts, and to keep them away from extreme temperatures, moths and damp.
When Vicky isn’t preserving nature, she is out walking and taking photographs in it with her beloved boxer dog, Lily. Always, of course, keeping a look-out for the fallen birds and beasts she can transform for eternity.
For more information go to www.naturepreservedUK at Etsy or contact Vicky on naturepreserveduk@hotmail.com.