The Reel Thing

t was quite the catch.

Blair Loveland, a business development manager in Tarpon Springs, Fla., was fishing in 2007 with his family out of West Palm Beach. His father, Joseph Loveland Jr., had chartered the Boomerang, a sport fishing boat, for a half day as a present for his granddaughter, Kaci, then 8.

Loveland’s wife, Jennifer, and 12-year-old son, Dylan, were along for the adventure. The family had a good yield: Loveland caught a 3-foot barracuda; Kaci and Dylan each landed king mackerels; and Jennifer hooked a 7.5-foot sailfish, battling it relentlessly before relinquishing the pole to Loveland.

“Less than a month after having disc surgery in her lower back, she hooks this thing and fought it for about 15 minutes, and then I had to bring it in,” Loveland says. “Took me about an hour.”

Loveland is big on catch-and-release, but the line had tail-wrapped the sailfish. Lactic acid, built up during the long fight, had exhausted the fish beyond reviving. The catch was impressive, though — and a possible dock record — that Loveland wanted a mount. But he had a choice — traditional skin mount or fiberglass replica.

Both yield different results, looks and weight, with beauty being in the eye of the beholder. >

GETTY IMAGES

THE REEL THING

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RELISHING THE REPLICA Loveland opted to have a fiberglass replica of his sailfish made by Gray Taxidermy (graytaxidermy.com) in Pompano Beach, Fla. “They’re pretty much the go-to guys in Florida,” he says. He paid about $1,400, saving an estimated $400 in shipping costs by picking up the replica himself, and advises others to inquire about extra fees to avoid sticker shock: “The shipping for a mount is expensive as hell.”

In operation for more than 50 years, Gray Taxidermy bills itself as the big fish in the marine taxidermy industry and produces about 14,000 fish mounts a year.

Sizes range from small bait fish, which are used in mounts with larger fish, to their largest mount to date — a 26-foot blue marlin, according to sales associate Joseph Ribera.

Gray got its start doing skin mounts, partial skin mounts and replicas, but today the company sticks mostly to fiberglass, Ribera notes. “We haven’t seen (a skin mount) in nine months, and I know they want to completely do away with them because they’re just very labor-intensive.”

The company primarily mounts saltwater fish, but nearly a third of its business is dedicated to freshwater species like largemouth bass.

The company works with charter boat captains and crews to recommend fiberglass replicas to customers who catch trophy fish. Those looking to have a replica done should measure the fish from the tip of the nose or bill to the tip of the tail — and take photos as soon as it’s in the boat, Ribera says.

“Let’s say you catch a dorado — a dolphin — so you want to take a picture as soon as it comes in the boat because that’s when the colors are going to be peak,” he says. As the fish loses oxygen and becomes more stressed, the color starts to muddle and fade. Quickness is key. “Then you can release it or you can harvest it and eat it — whichever you decide to do — and then you can call and tell us the measurements. … It’s as easy as that.”

Ribera also recommends measuring the girth to get a more accurate replica. Many people don’t like taking billfish out of the water, so he advises using monofilament fishing line to measure the fish while it’s along the side of the boat. Measure the line after the fish is released, and you’ve got the numbers for your mount.

Customers can even opt to have specific scars shown on their replica. “Any imperfections like a shark bite on the side of a fish — we’ve done many of those,” he says.

“If that’s something they want to incorporate in their trophy, we can do that.”

Ribera learned the taxidermy trade working during the 1990s at the well-known, Fort Lauderdale-based J.T. Reese

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REAL OR FAKE Skin mounting requires removing the bones, meat and organs, saving the skin, head, gills, teeth and throat of the fish.

The taxidermist uses a proprietary mix of chemicals to preserve and tan the skin, which is then stretched over a polyurethane mannequin.

Fish quickly lose much of their color after they’re caught, so paint is used to re-create the coloring. The process is time-consuming and can be difficult to master.

For decades, skin-mount fish taxidermy was the only option for preserv-

ing a trophy catch. But in the late ’80s and early ’90s, fiberglass replicas became popular because they were easier and faster to do, less messy and well-received among those who wanted a trophy but preferred catch-and-release. All that’s necessary to make a replica are some photos and measurements. (In fact, New Wave Taxidermy in Stuart, Fla., says that more than 90 percent of the mounts made today don’t have any parts from an actual fish.)

Fiberglass replicas, also referred to as release mounts or replica mounts, are created from a cavity mold of a specific species. Mold makers use an actual fish to create a mold, which can be used for hundreds of replicas.

Most taxidermy shops have thousands of models in different sizes and species to match the trophy fish as closely as possible. Using two halves of the mold, a gel coat is brushed on, followed by several layers of fiberglass. A fiberglass paste is added to connect the two halves, which are clamped together to create the replica’s full body. Once hardened, the body is released from the mold, cleaned up and airbrushed to match photographs.

PROVIDED BY GRAY TAXIDERMY

A Gray Taxidermy employee works on a fibgerglass replica. The shop has more than 10,000 models of species available.

PROVIDED BY GRAY TAXIDERMY

For decades, skin-mount taxidermy was the only option for preserving trophy fish.

Taxidermy, now closed.

And while he’s done his share of skin mounts, he’s much happier promoting fiberglass replicas.

“I’ve seen skin mounts that are so horrific, it’s funny,” he says. “When I was younger, I caught a steelhead trout and I had it mounted. I thought it was the best in the world ... (but) when I got in this industry, and looked at it again, I thought, ‘Oh my God, it was square!’ If you don’t make the mannequin properly underneath, and the anatomy and the muscle structure isn’t right, the (exterior) is not going to be right.”

While Loveland has owned three skin mounts — a tarpon skin mount his father caught in the mid1950s, an Atlantic marlin caught by his mother in Cape May, N.J., in the ’60s and a 39-inch dolphin — he’s very happy with >

For shipping, Gray Taxidermy encases larger fish in wooden frames wrapped in cardboard.

Smaller species ship in heavy-duty cardboard.

An artist at Gray Taxidermy uses airbrushing to re-create specific details.

A clear topcoat achieves a wet look and seals the color.

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GYOTAKU GO-TO

A

Sandy Margret hand-paints a skin mount at Kingfisher Gallery and Taxidermy.

how the fiberglass sailfish turned out. (Unfortunately, the dolphin fell off the wall and the family dog chewed the cardboard dorsal fin), but Gray Taxidermy, having done his sailfish replica, gave him a good deal on a dolphin replica.

“Those are the first fiberglass mounts I’ve ever had, and they’re like half the weight (of my skin

Based out of South Padre Island, Texas, Sandy Margret has been in the industry for 25 years, part of a dwindling breed. After completing a master’s degree in fine art from New York University and an undergraduate degree in communications and art from Rutgers University, she learned taxidermy from renowned Wisconsin taxidermist Alan Meiers, of Al’s Taxidermy Studio.

Her path led to a 20-year career teaching high school art and English, but she never stopped practicing taxidermy, and in 2009, she quit teaching to open Kingfisher Gallery and Taxidermy (kingfishertaxidermy.com).

On average, Margret says she produces more than 300 fish mounts a year — 85 percent of them skin mounts. A big number considering each of her creations is hand-painted — a practice she alone might maintain, she says. “Blending is done by hand, for a completely natural look.”

Margret is truly passionate about creating vibrant and realistic skin mounts — and firmly dispels the myth that they don’t hold up over the years. “My skin mounts will last generations, and they don’t turn yellow and they don’t break,” she says. “(The myth is) what’s been said to people over and over by other taxidermists who don’t want to handle the labor or the time or don’t have the skills.”

Decades ago, many taxidermists used caustic chemicals like formaldehyde, oil-based lacquers and kerosenes, Margret says. She opts instead to use environmentally friendly water-based solutions and polyurethanes to help preserve the fish and prevent yellowing or cracking.

Margret says another reason her work stands out in the field is that she uses the entire body of a fish — head included. Some taxidermists who do skin mounts

NICHE (FISH) MARKET Given the amount of work necessary to create a skin mount, it’s no surprise that there aren’t many taxidermists left who specialize in the process.

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PROVIDED BY SANDY MARGRET; PRINT BY SANDY MARGRET

mounts),” he says. “I think fiberglass mounts are really going to be the way of the future.”

PRIOVIDED BY SANDY MARGRET

Given the amount of work, the wait time for skin mounts is five to six months on average.

prefer to use fake heads for numerous reasons, she says.

Either they may not know how to properly clean a head or it’s too time-consuming. Sometimes customers are told this up front, in other cases, they might not realize that the head on their skin mount isn’t real.

“There’s no gills; there’s no real tongue; there’s no real teeth,” Margret says.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t skin mount her own catches.

An avid spear fisherman and conservationist, she says she releases the big trophy fish so they can continue to breed: “Then I’ll (make) a replica.”

Her company now resides in a 4,000-square-foot facility, having expanded from 1,300 square feet earlier this year. And business is booming: “It seems like the bigger we grow, the more people are sending us fish!”

If you’re interested in having your fish mounted by Kingfisher, there are several specific requirements: Customers must either ship it to the shop within three days or freeze it immediately. To get it to Margret in three days requires the fish to be kept on ice with the water draining out (a cooler with a spigot works). Fish sloshing around in ice water will damage the scales, she adds. Or, the fish can be wrapped in a soaking wet towel and frozen whole.

Kept this way, the fish will keep for up to two years and can be shipped overnight — arriving in perfect condition.

“Don’t make any cuts on it, don’t gut it, don’t do anything like that. Just make sure the towel is packed really tight around the fish,” Margret says Understandably, the wait time for a skin mount is more than a fiberglass replica. For Kingfisher, it takes about five to six months on average. (Despite the long wait, Margret says she’ll do skin mounts for other taxidermists who want to offer it to their customers.) >

nother way to commemorate your catch is to commission a Gyotaku print. Practiced around the world, the ancient Japanese technique uses rubbings of the actual fish to print an image on rice or linen paper. Many believe the practice, dating to the mid-1800s, was a way for fishermen to record their catches.

Taxidermist and artist Sandy Margret has been practicing the art form since learning it while spending a semester in Italy during graduate school.

Margret says there are two benefits to opting for Gyotaku: It’s great for those who want something to show for their catch but don’t want a fish mounted, and the process does not adversely affect the taste or quality of the fish meat, meaning you get your cake and can eat it, too. “When they pick up their fish print, they (also) pick up perfectly delicious fish fillets to take home and enjoy” she says.

To make a Gyotaku,

Margret hardens the scales of the fish with chemicals and then adds species-appropriate ink colors. Fish with harder scales can be used to create three prints, while softerscaled fish, like trout, can usually make just one for each side. With this process, Margret can make multiple prints. “Sometimes (clients) buy one for every member of a winning fishing team,” Margret says, adding that if there are extra prints, she sells them at her business, Kingfisher Gallery and Taxidermy in South Padre Island, Texas.

With each print, the colors, shape and size of the fish are recorded exactly, and Margret includes the angler’s name, date, location, size and weight on the print. “Now your trophy catch can be displayed in formal and elegant settings. It is wonderfully popular when you think about all the places fine art is appropriate,” she says.

— Sara Schwartz

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Recent projects at Kingfisher included a 12-foot conference table built for the Green Law Firm in Brownsville, Texas.

A redfish, speckled trout, snook and southern flounder are mounted to look as though they are swimming through the table. Each species is

Sandy Margret makes about 300 fish mounts a year, most of them skin mounts. chasing a baitfish, shrimp, finger mullet, piggy perch and blue crab, Margret says. For the grand opening of a Dick’s Sporting Goods in Brownsville, Margret created a massive $10,000 display that includes three

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large bull redfish, two snook, two Texas slam stringer mounts with trout, flounder, a school of snappers and redfish.

Carlos Benavides, a rancher in Laredo, Texas, has “about 100” taxidermy specimens, a half dozen of them fish mounts made by Margret. One of his favorites is a 52-inch red drum he had done about 12 years ago.

“It’s really, really beautiful; it’s like sunshine,” Benavides says. “It looks as beautiful as when I first put it up.”

He caught it in Port O’Connor, Texas. “It’s just a thrill to be on a boat trying to wrangle one of these big fish in.”

A longtime friend of Margret’s, Benavides praises her artistry, adding that she’s equally good at re-creating lifelike fiberglass mounts. “If you get somebody like (Margret) who knows how to paint, it really makes a huge difference,” he says. “She’s a great artist first before taxidermist, so she just brings all these fish back to life.”

Of course, there are those who opt for neither skin mount or fiberglass replica, choosing instead to remember their big catches through shared stories and photographs tucked into dusty albums.

John Zilka, who lives on Gull Lake in Minnesota, fishes just about any chance he can get. Last fall, he caught an 8-pound, 28-inch walleye. He and his brother took a quick photo and slipped the fish back into the water.

“I figured that fish could put out a lot of eggs and have a lot more walleye,” he says. l

PROVIDED BY SANDY MARGRET

Sandy Margret holds a redfish skin mount and says her skin mounts will last decades if properly taken care of.