THIRD PLACE: Merle Patchett

I woke with hesitancy, momentarily unsure of my surroundings. The curtains were drawn but I could still make out the shadowy presence of several avian figures perched along the length of the bay-windowsill to the right of my bed. Although encased in glass, their petrified silhouettes were a disturbing sight to comprehend whilst waking up in a darkened room. Registering that I was not on the set of a Hitchcock thriller but at the home of one of the world’s foremost taxidermy collectors, I hurriedly got out of bed and set about getting dressed remembering that I was expected at breakfast. …

I was told I could take as long as I liked to work through the collectors A-Z archive of 19^th and 20^th century taxidermists housed in his study. Yet it was the study itself that stole my attention. It was akin to a 17^th century cabinet of curiosity, as almost all available wall and shelf space was given over to the display of taxidermy mounts, zoological specimens and related miscellaneous artefacts. On one wall a huge case containing a riotous display of iridescent Humming birds fought for attention with a gigantic mantled moose-head complete with hat and tobacco-pipe. Below them, salvaged period museum display cases housed various bird specimens including, according to its label, an extinct “Great Auk’’. On top of the cases a lamp with an elephant-foot base sat amongst several ornamental taxidermy glass-domes, the choice of fashionable Victorian ladies. A tiger head mount took centre-stage on the opposite wall amongst several wall-mounted cases of birds of prey. Most bizarrely of all an example of a kitten born with two heads was encased in a glass-shade on the collector’s desk and next to the desk an arm-chair, covered in a leopard-skin rug, cushioned a plaster-cast bust of Darwin’s head. While I could have spent all day inspecting the weird and wonderful sights on offer, I reluctantly turned my attention to the forty box files I needed to read through. …

That night the collector introduced me to the most prized piece of taxidermy in his possession. Taking me back into the guest room where I was staying, he indicated to a large cabinet that was covered by a sheet. Although it was positioned facing the guest bed, I had not paid it much attention the previous night. Like a magician he removed the sheet with a flourish to reveal a scene depicting a funeral taking place. This was a particularly odd funeral as the coffin bearers and those making up the rest of funeral cortege were all small birds. The collector told me it was the much coveted “Who killed cock-robin” exhibit from the now extant Walter Potter’s museum of anthropomorphic taxidermy. Excitedly he went on to show me that at a press of a button the whole scene could be lit up by a series of fairy lights. A flickering light which lit up the grave where the coffin was about to be lowered added the finishing touch to the macabre scene.

Later when I was alone in bed, I had the horrible thought that the exhibit, which had been left uncovered, might suddenly illuminate of its own accord and the wizened birds might flutter into life and attempt to escape their unnatural setting, only to hit vainly and repeatedly against the glass… it was to be another wakeful night.

Merle Patchett