Beth Beverly 31, of South Philadelphia

If you're at all squeamish, stop here. Yes, we realize this is an artist's portrait, but Beth Beverly's art can't be described in watercolor softness or copper shine. There will be no use of the word "pretty" below.

The 31-year-old South Philadelphia resident, whose real name is Beth Smallwood Coughlin, is the creator of "fantasy taxidermy." She started her company, Menagerie Design, with birds she found dead on the street, graduated to squirrels and rabbits, and just mounted her first deer head.

What's so different about that? Well, pigeon wings find their way onto rabbits - who are then frozen in mid-flight. A mallard might be surrounded in moss, perched on its hindquarters.

It may not be something found in the average living room or craft show, but the creativity and care of Beverly's art is unmistakable.

"I grew up outside Philly and have been making 'stuff' since I can remember," she says. "I'm really fond of picking up anything shiny on the sidewalk - it would drive my parents crazy."

As a student at Temple University's Tyler School of Art, where she majored in jewelry design, Beverly would incorporate these found objects into her pieces. That might mean a piece of snakeskin in a hair accessory or some fur and leather on a pin. She would buy crazy-colored hair extensions and weave them into hairpieces.

Incorporating entire animals into her art began about eight years ago. As she walked the city streets, she would find birds that had been killed flying into skyscrapers.

"It broke my heart to think these beautiful things were just going to rot on the sidewalk," she says. Beverly bought a book on taxidermy and began practicing. As a vegetarian, it was hard - she'd never even cut meat off a bone to eat, she says.

So as she developed her art, she also incorporated a practice of gratitude toward the creatures she held. In her studio, the second bedroom of the home she shares with her musician husband, she sings songs of thanks - an appreciation for the animals' lives and acknowledgment that they died so she could practice her craft.

Beverly also became a carnivore, believing that she'd rather cook and eat the meat from the rabbits than see it go to waste. The animals she uses already are dead, usually recently so.

"At first I just wanted to incorporate the skins and the wings and feet into hairpieces and hats," she says. "And then I started to challenge myself - re-creating the actual form of the animal. Then I started wondering what it would look like if I put wings on a rabbit."

Her work involves skinning the animals and placing the skins on artificial animal forms, then using parts of other animals or other accents.

Most of her ideas come as she's working, and accidents turn into lessons - like the time a rabbit skin didn't stretch the way she anticipated, and she compensated by inserting a bunch of pearls so it looked like it was bursting out of the seam.

"There are a lot of happy accidents along the way," she says.

In a way, it's not so different from her day job as a window designer for Boyds on Chestnut Street. Every week she creates scenes with mannequins, hoping to do something that looks natural yet grabs the viewer's attention.

Beverly has sold three pieces, ranging from $300 to $2,000, and will be showing at Pork Chop, a Fishtown gallery, until the end of August.

Although she realizes her work isn't for everyone, she hopes that viewers appreciate her combination of elements and admiration of nature. But that doesn't always happen.

"I don't usually tell people what I do right away," she says. "I've gotten some people who squeal and say they're going to throw up when they see it."