When the Season Closes, His Season Begins
- Mar 3
- 3 min read
When the last shot echoes across the ridgelines of Carinthia and the woods finally grow quiet, most hunters hang up their rifles and turn toward winter stories and shed antlers. For Eric Leitner, that’s when the real rush begins. Up on the Kreuzen above Paternion, Austria, trophies start arriving at his workshop—carefully wrapped capes, antlers still carrying the scent of the rut, birds frozen mid-wing. To the hunter, they are memories. To Leitner, they are responsibility.
Because without master taxidermists, hunting history would fade fast. Museums depend on them. Theaters rely on them. Private collectors trust them. Leitner’s client list ranges from the Alpine Wildlife Park Scherzer to the Klagenfurt City Theater. For a production of Nathan the Wise, he once mounted eight ravens—each posed differently, each alive with character. That range says everything about his craft.
A Profession That Demands Everything
Leitner, originally from Austria’s Burgenland region, has worked as a master taxidermist for more than three decades. The trade runs in his blood—his father was a taxidermist before him. “This profession,” he says with a quiet smile, “is probably my family’s destiny.”
But he’s quick to add: it’s not for everyone. “To achieve truly lifelike results, you need patience and an extraordinary feel for detail,” he explains. “You have to combine the skills of a painter, carpenter, biologist, sculptor and chemist.”
That isn’t exaggeration. True taxidermy at this level is anatomical precision married to artistic interpretation. Every muscle group must sit correctly. Every eyelid must tell a story. Every hair pattern must follow the natural lay of the animal.
In Austria today, only a handful of master-level shops remain. Apprenticeships have become rare. The craft is shrinking—even as demand grows.
From Songbirds to Man-Eaters
There’s hardly a species Leitner hasn’t worked on.
One of the most unforgettable pieces? A six-meter Nile crocodile from Tanzania’s Selous ecosystem—an animal locals described bluntly as a man-eater. He has also mounted a massive Greenland polar bear, a project that required not only technical mastery but deep anatomical understanding of an apex predator built for ice and endurance.
Yet for all the exotic trophies, it’s often the native European game that demands the greatest sensitivity.
Take the black grouse. For birds like this, Leitner still builds the body the traditional way—using wood wool, sculpted by hand. It allows him to recreate exact posture and muscle tension.
“That’s where craftsmanship becomes art,” he says.
For Hunters, It's About the Individual
Serious hunters don’t want a generic textbook specimen. They want their animal.
The scar across the shoulder from an old territorial fight. The particular cant of the head. The expression in the eyes that brings back the cold morning, the careful stalk, the steady squeeze of the trigger.
Leitner’s clients—hunters from across Europe, museums, wildlife parks, and increasingly even pet owners—value one thing above all: authenticity. Each mount is a one-of-one piece. Finished only when the taxidermist himself is satisfied. And that bar is high.
Silence, Focus, and the Next Summit
Kreuzen above Paternion is remote, quiet—exactly the environment this kind of work demands. Leitner began his formal training at seventeen in Vienna before love drew him south to Carinthia. There, together with his wife Margit, he built both home and workshop.
He has already earned medals at European and World Championships in taxidermy. But the ultimate goal remains: a world title.
He doesn’t talk about it loudly.
He simply keeps working.
Preserving moments.
Freezing adrenaline in muscle and glass.
Making sure a hunt does not end in memory alone—but remains visible, tangible, alive.
That is what defines Master Taxidermist Eric Leitner.
When the season ends for hunters, his season has just begun.
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