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PARIS NOTES

October 2002

Volume 11 Issue 8

Here, a lion basks in a dull patch of sun; there, an elk gazes plaintively out the window at the traffic passing on a rainy Rue du Bac below. Looming from above, some posed like sentries on the tops of tall cabinets, are the pigs, pheasants, oxen and foxes. Other heftier mammals, such as zebras, wolves and bears, are arranged at floor level, as if out for a midday stroll. Rows of butterflies classified by color—iridescent blues, fire oranges and reds—patiently wait behind glass cases.

As you stalk the museum-like Deyrolle, it’s not hard to imagine yourself as Darwin or some other 19th-century naturalist on an expedition to capture and name a newly discovered species. Except here, the wildlife is eerily quiet, caught frozen roaming among the cabinets. The more than 300 mammals, 1,000 fossils and 40,000 insects—the largest collection of specimens in France—haven’t moved in years. Still, walking the creaky aisles, you can’t help feeling like you’re disturbing their sleep.

Since 1831, Deyrolle has survived the changing times by adapting to the needs of its clients. It was once the one-stop shop for serious scientists of entomology, mineralogy and zoology (its old location near Pont Neuf housed a research equipment factory and printing business). In addition, it for years put thousands of Deyrolle-designed diagrams of skeletal systems and botanical charts into French classrooms. These days, it still sells posters, books and charts, but it survives mostly as a resource for collectors after that special butterfly from the Solomon Islands, or set decorators looking for bees or monkeys for their next film shoot. On a recent visit, one gentleman involved in foie gras production stopped by to see about renting a few stuffed geese.

"I never stop learning," says Yves Ceretti, a shy veteran employee of a dozen years. "The natural world is a passion." Ceretti goes by the official title of "préparateur" (lab assistant/restorer), but he does a little of everything: answering phones, helping customers find the perfect ostrich egg, explaining to children that, non, he did not kill the big animals—they died of natural causes, arriving mostly from zoos and circuses.

"There are laws now that control how these are collected," Ceretti explains, dispelling any fears that Deyrolle might traffic in endangered species. For example, gorillas, wolves and some big cats must not be stuffed. "To catch certain butterflies, for example, you need special permission," he says, turning over a display box to reveal the permit and ID number. With a full-time taxidermist on staff (and three others employed on a contract basis), Deyrolle still offers hunters the chance to preserve their quarry. Stuffing a pheasant runs about $250.

The shop arranges much of its precious treasure like a library of the dead, hiding it within hundreds of card catalogue-like drawers inside dozens of custom-made antique cabinets. Pull on a knob (after asking permission, of course) and dozens of seashells, scarab beetles or sparrows might be revealed. One case is devoted to glass eyeballs, imported from the Czech Republic for use by sculptors and marionette makers. Another contains just minerals and gemstones. It’s hard to believe that nearly everything you see is for sale—from Jurassic fragment to baby zebra. A honeybee would cost around $8; the basking lion will set you back about $9,500.

But casual visitors are as welcome as paying customers. In an era when it's politically incorrect to stuff animals for study, Deyrolle remains both an anachronistic curiosity and a 19th-century indulgence not to be missed. "It's OK just to come and look," Ceretti says. "It's rare in Paris to see a store like this. We're outside of time."

•Deyrolle: 46 Rue du Bac, 7th. Tel: (1) 42 22 30 07. E-mail: deyrolle@wanadoo.fr. Open: Mon.-Sat. 10am-7pm.