LOCALadk Magazine

strates respect for the animals, showing their many faces and their place in the world. Factory farming, Jonke notes, is cruel. But so, in its way, is treating animals as witless souls whose destiny is hu- man-dependent. "We don't give animals the credit they're due," Jonke said. "We paint them as being helpless, but they're perfectly in tune with their surroundings and they know what they're do- ing." Taxidermy and the Adirondacks go hand in hand, of course, most notably in the Great Camps, clubs, rec rooms and taverns, where deer heads and birch bark are required touches. Although mounting whitetail heads is still her bread and but- ter, hunting is fading in the Park, and taxidermists are too. But the profession is still an honored Adirondack tradition, enough so that it has been featured in an exhibit at the Adirondack Experi- ence in Blue Mountain Lake. Jonke stands between two Adirondack cultures, the native population that traces its roots to the mountain guides and hard- scrabble farmers, and the vacationers and hikers who have a dis- tinctly environmental bent. For one group, the first day of deer season is more anticipated than Christmas. For the other, checks are routinely mailed to the National Wildlife Federation. With a foot in both worlds, Jonke believes there is more com- monality than might be assumed. Both respect animals, but in different ways, and an implicit part of Jonke's job is changing minds and perceptions. Tourists will stop at her shop on Route 86 in Jay out of curiosity and because her gallery and workshop have that slab-sided, Ad- irondacky look that suggests there will be something good inside. "ey're not sure what to expect, but they're curious," Jonke said. e door opens tentatively. "Everyone assumes I'm sitting here in pools of blood with organs hanging off my head," she said. Instead, her showroom more resembles a natural history mu- seum, with its share of trophy bucks, to be sure, but also bear, bobcat, coyote, fox, and marten. A hiker could tramp Adirondack trails for years and not see the wildlife that populates Jonke's showroom. ere are other works of art and wonder, including preserved insects, African exotics and jewelry made from claws or bones so that nothing goes to waste. Kids in particular love the gallery and the opportunity to see the wild animals they have been hearing about on their vacation, and their parents revel in the chance to see up close notoriously shy creatures such as the marten. Tourists will still occasionally point and say, "You did that?" Jonke tries to take it as a compli- ment. Jonke herself at times seems to find it a bit curious she ended up in the Adirondack Park, having grown up in that great wilderness hunting grounds known as Queens, New York. Maybe the first flicker of her impending career was the day as a young girl she happened upon a baby pigeon. "It was sinfully ugly, which meant that I had to take it home," she said. Jonke found beauty in wild- life, and not just the cute wildlife―be it a fawn or a snake, insect, butterfly, or pigeon. She was fascinated, and they were bound to intersect with her artistic talent. Attending school in SUNY New Paltz, Jonke acquired more ex- posure to hiking, wildlife, and the outdoors―and roadkill. It seemed bad enough that an animal had died beneath the wheels of a speeding vehicle, but to lie there in the road and be hit again and again was too much. "It was horrible, and I hated it," she said. Later, preserving animals that had been killed on the highway would become Jonke's way of honoring their life―but at the time the best she could do was put on a pair of gloves and drag them to the side. Jonke loved painting and sculpture, but needing an employable skill, she studied graphic design, as many artists do. But too much of the work didn't feel creative, it was fussing over things like let- ters, fonts, and kerning. Instead, her career continued to evolve not so much behind a computer screen, but at the side of the road. She found bones and skulls, which she cleaned. "e next logical step was that I wanted to learn how to preserve the fur," she said. Jonke bought some supplies off of Amazon and, aer taking a deep breath, cut into her first raccoon. Dead animals don't spurt blood; instead of a mess, the incision was neat and clean. Wanting to learn more, Jonke found a local taxidermist and begged him for a job. In a male-dominated profession, though, Jonke knew she would eventually have to strike out on her own to be taken seriously. "We all have roles that we are supposed to be playing, and I wasn't playing it anymore," she said. Jonke found herself at the four-way stop of nature, art, philoso- phy, and death. She draws inspiration not just from the aesthetics of the mountains, but also from practices such as Tibetan sky fu- nerals, where the most generous thing to do, as the Tibetans see it, is to offer the corpse back to nature as life-sustaining food for vultures and scavengers. Of course, the wildlife is an inspiration as well. Most people are unlikely to notice the differences between one deer and another, but they are individuals in terms of their coloring, structure, and even facial expression. ese nuances show in her work, as she divines whether the animal was alert, relaxed, angry, or something else. "I like to sit with them and take my time," she said. If you put her in a room full of deer, Jonke says she could distinguish among them by their individual characteristics. Taxidermy is an exacting process that involves cleaning and salting the hides, which are sent to a specialty tanner, shampooing the fur and affixing it to a mannequin-like form that is augmented with clay. Delicate features such as eyelids and nostrils must be meticulously reconstructed. Attention to detail is critical, since taxidermy is mainly noticed when the taxidermist gets it wrong: a wandering eye or a fold of skin where it ought to be taut. Perfection is hard. From bullet holes to broken bones to shred- ded ears from fights gone by, there's always the need for a work- around. "A lot of taxidermy is problem-solving," she said. But the rewards are great when a pose or expression is just right, or a bit of added realism (UV lights that make it appear as though the eyes have been caught in the beam of a flashlight) or whimsy (a fox holding the bail of a kerosene light in its teeth) gives it an extra touch of interest. Jonke said she would like to see these animals regarded as art once again, as they were in the days of the Great Camp. As hunt- ing and trapping have declined, there has been a corresponding rise in ecological study, and a fascination with the flora and fauna of the Park. Taxidermy can be part of that education and ethic, Jonke said, a way of honoring and respecting animals that is far more dignified than leaving them battered by the side of an Ad- irondack road. LOCALadk 16

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