In the quiet of our woodland garden, we shared our space with many creatures, each an integral part of the forest's tapestry. Among them was an old badger, Meles meles, whose presence had become a familiar part of our lives. Known for its gruff demeanor and nocturnal rummages through our compost, the badger had, over the years, marked our woods as its territory. We respected its space and its role in the ecosystem, and in turn, it became a character in the story of our garden.

It was with a heavy heart that we discovered the badger one early Sunday morning, lying beside the road not far from our home. It seemed the old creature, just out of winter hibernation, had met its end under the wheels of a passing car. Finding it there, its neck broken but body otherwise intact and still warm, brought a sense of sadness and the urge to honor its life in a meaningful way.

We decided to preserve what we could of the badger, starting with its winter coat. Skinning the pelt was a quiet, reflective task. Each cut and pull brought back memories of its snarls and sneaky visits. The pelt, thick and worn, showed signs of the life it had lived—white patches where it often lay, scars from encounters with other badgers, and a surprisingly pristine tail, indicating its dominance in the local hierarchy.

The task of tanning the hide began with careful cleaning and treating, ensuring every step respected the spirit of the animal. We opted not to use its meat, given the badger's age and the likely toughness and muskiness of its flesh in the spring season (- supposedly the shanks can be good smoked).
Instead, we focused on creating a lasting memorial from its hide, envisioning it as a piece that would tell stories of its forest life for years to come.

As we worked, nature continued its course. The remains of the badger, left in a secluded spot, quickly attracted local wildlife. Birds picked at it first, followed by a fox that may have taken the rest as a prize back to its den. Our youngest had hoped to collect the bones, perhaps to assemble a skeleton, but the forest had other plans. We did manage to keep its skull and a paw with claws.

Carefully removing the hide from the badger was the first step, undertaken with precision to keep the pelt intact. We thoroughly cleaned the pelt to remove any dirt, blood, and residual fat, preparing it for the tanning process. The clean pelt was then liberally covered with salt to cure it. This step is crucial as it helps in drying out the hide and preserving it before further treatment. After the salt cure, the pelt was cleaned again to remove the salt and prepare it for the tanning solution. We soaked the pelt in a solution of formic acid, which helps to further preserve the hide and prepare it for the final tanning. The last step involved applying a tanning oil to the pelt, which softens and conditions the hide, transforming it into durable leather.

This experience, while somber, connected us deeply to the cycle of life and death in nature. The badger's pelt, now drying and slowly transforming into a supple leather, will serve as a tangible memory of its presence in our garden. Soon, we'll turn our attention to its skull, another project that promises to bring us closer to understanding the life of one of the forest's most formidable inhabitants.