Spacetimemattering of Taxidermy Animals

We are at the natural history museum being given a guided tour behind the scenes of the museum’s daily practices. The taxidermist, or guide, leads us into the laboratory where they put their taxidermy skills to work. In a small room, or rather large closet, he pulls a wing off the shelf and tells us how the feathers are used to tell how old the hawk was when it died. Written right there in the feathers, like rings of a tree stump, the age of the hawk comes visibly discernible.

As we exit, above us, mounted on the wall, we see a taxidermied zebra’s head. It’s a bit corky because it doesn’t look straight ahead like most mounted heads do and it’s mouth, permanently frozen open, tongue protruding, is held forever in an expressive gesture. The zebra’s presence exudes an atmosphere of claim – it has arrived at its final destination. Unlike the other animals waiting to be taxidermized and moved out into collections, the zebra lives here permanently. Its neck protrudes from the wall and turns a rough 90 degrees to one side. The museum taxidermist, our guide, tells how, when they went to restore the zebra’s body (that is now missing from the scene entirely), they found the wallet from the previous taxidermist inside the cavity of the torso. All these years the zebra had also been a time capsule; containing physical material remains from the past, secretly carrying them into the present.