The passing of The Montana Taxidermist.

You got it right Dale. Bruce was also a man of great character and integrity. Humane to animals too. I have nothing but good memories of Bruce, our friend and colleague.
The first time I visited Bruce, he invited me to the house for a cup of coffee, a hospitable gesture I wasn’t expecting. Upon entering I noticed a small fluffy white mutt, which upon seeing me bolted from the kitchen in terror, its toenails slipping on the floor in its haste to hide in another room. Bruce explained that the dog was terrified of everyone other than family. He said he was throwing some trash in a dumpster one day and he heard something alive in it which made him curious. When he looked in he saw it was that little dog. He said it didn’t look at him or respond to his voice. He said the dog was shaking uncontrollably on the edge of a catatonic state. Obviously someone had thrown the dog in the dumpster and he said he didn’t need or want the dog but he couldn’t not rescue it, which he did. Not knowing what else to do with the dog, Bruce and his family just kept it fed and protected in the house until it eventually trusted him to handle it. It took a few weeks for the little pooch to warm up to its new family. It lived out its life thereafter with the Babcocks, but remained forever afraid of those it didn’t know.

Then there was the time Ron Jenkin’s shop burned down in Augusta. Bruce along with Mel Kastella, Ralph Swang and a gang of other members of the MTA went up there to clear the slab of rubble so Ron could rebuild on it. It was a fine thing considering Ron was everyone’s competitor except me. After a few hours of working in the hot soot and charcoaled remains, Bruce noticed we were all as black as crows from head to foot and started cracking jokes, like “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to wash behind your ears once in awhile?” One of the men answered, “Who’s this pot calling the kettle black?” That triggered the levity which continued the rest of the day as everyone worked together. If Bruce had a dark side, it was only on the outside and lasted only for two days while helping a friend in need.
I never had to call Bruce whenever he’d take in an animal that he thought I would want to measure for sculpting purposes. He knew what a model maker was looking for. Even though I lived 300 miles from Kalispell and would take six or seven hours to get to Bruce’s place, he would usually hold off skinning even for a day or two to accommodate me. Among the Montana bighorns, bears and mulies I measured at his shop, there was an exceptional male mt. lion. That specimen provided me with measurements and a skeleton for a 180lb cat and model, the top size range in my charts.

We all must play the cards we’re dealt in life even when we draw a painful hand like Bruce did near the end. Nevertheless the man played his cards with honesty, charm and good humor. Let me join you Dale and the rest of Bruce’s friends in extending our love and sympathy to Trish, and the rest of his family and friends. He may be gone from our sight, but not from our hearts and minds. - Amen