Inside the world of taxidermy in New Zealand

Chase Voss remembers the moment he first saw the majestic takahē - not out in the wild like you might expect, but rather mounted up inside Te Papa museum in Wellington.

He was just 12 years old then, but the moment inspired something in him - a passion for conservation, and eventually, a deep interest in taxidermy.

Some 30 years later, Voss spends his days in Wellington as a taxidermy hobbyist specialising in birds; he removes their skin, carefully cleaning and treating it, before placing it over a foam mannequin and touching up details, so as to give the birds a second life after death.

It might sound like a gruesome hobby - voluntarily dealing with dead animals all day - but Voss says it is not as gross as you might think. There is no blood or guts - anything that smells nasty is removed. You are really just dealing with clean skin and non-biodegradeable materials.

"The term taxidermy, if you break it down, taxis means arrangement and derma means skin, so you're just moving the skin from the real body and placing it onto a new body. It's effectively like a nice, clean garment that you're positioning onto a new form."

Voss says taxidermy is a craft like any other, but it has an added educational element in teaching people about conservation.

"Poor old New Zealand has some pretty sad stats in terms of our biodiversity; 40 percent of our New Zealand birds are extinct, and 20 percent of what we've got left is endangered ... the reality is the only way for people to see some of these species is mounted in a museum, and I know it's not for everyone, but it can be a motivator.

"You can't expect someone to care about [an animal's] environment or conservation if it's just this notion of something. But if you show it to them, they'll have an emotional connection, and that's how you can actually get someone to care."

Voss grew up on a farm in Manawatū in the 1980s, where his father was a hunter, farmer and taxidermist.

Seeing deer heads and small mammals strewn around the shed might make the average child's skin crawl, but it was an everyday sight for Voss; he found the whole thing completely normal.

"I would hang out with my dad a lot in the shed. It wasn't your regular daycare ... but it's funny when you're young, when you look at your parents, nothing they do is strange. In hindsight, I guess you can see how a lot of people might think it's strange dealing with dead animals, but I've really come to terms with the educational value above all, as well as the artistic value of it."

Growing up rurally, Voss was always fascinated with being able to see these animals up close and appreciating their colours and textures. He began doing bits and pieces of taxidermy in his teens, before giving it a break when he went off to university.

In 2017, when he moved to Amsterdam, he found his interest quickly renewed after coming across a local taxidermy school's open day.

"I thought, 'Well, that sounds like fun', so I rocked on over. There was a local TV station filming and interviewing the guy doing the demonstration, I just sat with the audience there and watched and then had bit of a chat with him. He quickly established that I was more than just your regular punter.

"At the end of that day he said, 'Wait a minute', disappeared for five minutes, and came back with a couple of birds and a set of tools and said, 'Get started', so that really rebooted me."

In September, Voss competed in the New Zealand Taxidermy Association's annual taxidermy competition in Taupō. His Masters entries - a gyrfalcon and a pair of great horned owls - took home Best Bird, Most Artistic, Best of Division and Best of Show wins.

Voss says the annual competition is all about the technical execution of the craft.

"You're trying to really honour the bird, to bring it back to life in a realistic, characteristic kind of way. It has to be representative of how it lives - you don't turn a kiwi into a heron - and I love representing the habitat that it's in, so I equally enjoy making a scene in snow or artificial water or mosses or foliage.

"Sometimes you might get a rare species, and you really want to do it justice. You want to give that bird a good second life, you don't want to dishonour it."

Taupō-based master taxidermist Louise Pearson also entered the competition. Her Masters entry - a European brown hare - won the Best Small Mammal award.

Like Voss, Pearson also grew up in a hunting family, curious about nature and its wildlife. At her primary school in Denmark, the cabinets were full of animals and bones and artefacts, and she knew early where her career choices lay.

"It was either taxidermy or being an artist, and I chose taxidermy thinking I could combine several of the things that came naturally to me. I am a perfectionist by nature, I have an eye for detail and I like colour, I have a creative streak so I paint as well, and within the taxidermy trade, you can combine those skills."

Pearson pursued a degree in museum preservation and conservation in Denmark before moving to New Zealand in 2002. Now, she and her husband run Sika Country Taxidermy, where they specialise in taxidermying big game trophies.

For Pearson, hunting plays a strong role in New Zealand's conservation efforts.

"People find it strange that I hunt because I'm a woman, but it's becoming more accepted these days. It used to just be the rural community but now more and more people are seeking it out, especially after Covid.

"We find that conservation and hunting complement each other ... we have to take care of nature, especially in New Zealand where we have so many introduced species, so that's the role we take.

"When I talk to my non-hunting friends, I try to explain to them that for us, it's a lifestyle ... hunting trophies are like a tribute to the species."

When Pearson receives a hunting trophy from a client, the first thing she does is assess its attributes so she can create a realistic rendition of it.

"I find that, using its skin, I can create a tribute to that animal. It's out of respect for the animal and because I'm incredibly fascinated by them. Every time I do a mount or new species for example, taxidermists will look into that species and learn about it, and it broadens our knowledge base and our appreciation of it.

"We don't get freaked out by the fact we have to skin the animal, because you could say the same for a butcher. I'm sure he doesn't get questioned because most people eat meat anyway, so they understand why he does it. We're not really that far from it, we don't deal with disgusting things, rotting things, they're always fresh specimens, so for us it's not icky in any way.

"I just love animals, and when I see them mounted up, it's a beautiful rendition of them. I see nothing wrong with it to be honest."

Voss agrees: "A lot of people who are already in the camp of, 'oh that's wrong or nasty or cruel', I would say pause your judgement a little bit and you might understand that a lot of the animals you [taxidermied] have not died to be there.

"And maybe even more important than that is, okay it might not be for you, but there's so much educational value, and enabling people to see these things up close could trigger the next generation of conservationists or people who care about a species.

"Don't just think it's evil and nasty or belongs in the last century, there's a place for it in education, conservation, and it's also an art form."