Memory Smells

From the door of the taxidermy lab I noticed two dead birds hanging from hooks above the taxidermy tables. One is a black duck of sorts and the other is a white-tailed eagle or a sea eagle, I believe. Walking further into the taxidermy lab the smell hits me. Its pungent aroma reminds me of the dead rabbit smell that came through a window this morning when my dog wanted to get a closer look at the northern goshawk eating the dead rabbit in the backyard (see above).

There are blood stains on the floor under the table.

In the lab, when I examine the mouth of the taxidermied zebra's head close up, I start to remember what it feels like feeding a horse. I have done it many times and when examining the zebra’s mouth closely I can’t help but feel the soft mushy skin that is forming the upper and lower lips brushing against the palm of my hand. The whiskers juxtapose smooth lips that call to my mind the soft fuzziness of a peach. The prickly hairs sticking out from the zebra’s bottom chin tickle my mind, as I can see and feel these memories on my own hand. A faint grassy scent of horses comes alive in the air. Is the smell really there, or is just the memory of it being recalled by my olfactory system? 

The students in the workshop are going into the bones room where there are lots of antlers, skeletons and teeth. This is a different room than the taxidermy lab. To get here you have to take an elevator and go down beneath the museum into what used to be, and I guess still is, a bomb shelter – quite a large one at that. Throughout these labyrinth-like hallways we see lots of large metal doors that are locked, behind which the museum's various collections are stored.

Behind the first locked door we enter a room and are taken aback with the most pungent odour. Our eyes start to get watery and our breathing becomes shallow, in efforts to limit the amount of stale air drawn in. Coursing the walls and on rows of wooden shelves are jars upon jars of wet specimens. They look almost alien-like, animals diffracted through layers of water, glass, and time. We see a respirator on the floor and move closer to examine it and are told that museum staff member working in this room must wear one because the formaldehyde used for preserving the specimens is dangerous and toxic to the lungs.

Next we are taken to the bone room. Here there are little bones, big bones, white bones, brown bones and bones so small you could mistake them for specs of trash. Boxes and boxes of bones reaching all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Bones in clear plastic bags, bones in old plastic pill containers. The skull of an elephant, tusks and all. Our museum guide takes a cat skeleton from one of the shelves to show it to us. As he turns around to show it to everyone the leg moves – everyone gasps! 

​Our museum guide shows us the skeleton of a northern goshawk. It's silhouette awakens something, a memory. Could this be the bones of same species of bird that was eating the rabbit in my backyard earlier today? The hawk's skeletal remains haunt my mind, as if the events of this morning had been reconstructed and put on display – the only thing absent from all this is smell from my memory.