The animal died—by spear, arrow, trap, or net—and immediately began decomposing. Bacteria worked on exposed tissues, enzymes broke down cellular structures, blood congealed, muscles stiffened. Within hours in warm weather, the carcass would be noticeably degraded. Within days, it would be rotting. The flesh would be consumed or wasted, but the skin—the skin could become something that lasted years, that protected against cold and rain, that clothed and sheltered, that transformed into value far exceeding the momentary calories of meat.
But only if processed correctly. Untreated hide rotted like flesh. It stiffened like wood when dried, cracked and broke under use. It attracted vermin, smelled foul, was worthless. Transforming raw hide into usable leather or maintaining fur in condition where it provided warmth and lasted through seasons of hard wear required knowledge, labor, materials, time, and skill. The difference between success and failure was understanding of chemistry the Norse did not consciously possess but applied with precision refined through generations of practical experience.
Fur and hide preparation was survival technology and economic activity simultaneously. The person who wore poorly prepared hides froze or got soaked in rain. The trader who offered inferior leather found no buyers. The household that could not process skins properly lost significant value and utility. This work was essential, valuable, and demanding—requiring strength, endurance, tolerance for unpleasant materials and smells, and meticulous attention to detail across processes that took days or weeks.