Carving a Niche for Wildlife

The first thing you notice about Douglas Gibson are his hands. At once enormous, gentle, and weathered, Gibson’s hands have carved some of the world’s most celebrated duck decoys.

The 78-year-old Gibson is helping keep alive the spirit and craftsmanship of Delaware’s Eastern Shore, an area where low-lying salt marshes long have provided habitat for migrating birds. Though some claim hand-carving decoys is a dying art, a visit to Gibson’s studio in Milford (pop. 6,732) shows that in this quiet corner of the state, the centuries-old craft still thrives.

“I’m in my studio seven days a week, eight hours a day,” says Gibson, who estimates he’s carved more than 3,000 decoys over his lifetime. Each duck—some taking more than 100 hours to craft—is designed by Gibson, who says he can carve “95 percent of the birds in the United States without a picture.”

Scattered around his backyard studio are some 75 ducks, birds, and other small animals in various states of completion. Some are unpainted and resemble children’s bath toys, while others, such as a life-sized red-tailed hawk and a Canada goose, are hauntingly realistic.

Gibson’s decoys—very few are used for hunting—begin at $300 and can sell for upward of $1,800. Buyers from as far away as Korea and Africa own his originals. But price isn’t what concerns Gibson, who taught architecture and building design for 21 years at Delaware Technical and Community College in nearby Georgetown. What sets him apart from other decoy carvers is the love and attention he brings to each creation.

Gibson learned his craft by watching his father, a hunter and farmer, using “crude tools”—a hatchet, chopping block, and sharp-edged glass—to fashion his decoys. Birds and water are in his blood. “You were either a waterman or a farmer,” says Gibson, the youngest of 12 children. Although his family—African-Americans—felt the sting of segregation, he went on to successful careers as a teacher, boat-builder, and pilot, as well as gaining prowess as a master carver.

Gibson’s studio is often home to gaggles of students he happily takes under his wing. In addition to sharing his passion for carving, he imparts his knowledge of fishing (his other passion), as well as dispensing common-sense advice.

“He’s a real role model for friendship,” says Lynn Manges, who hails from nearby Hartly, a town of “100 and some.” Manges has studied with Gibson for two and half years. “He won’t let anyone leave class with a bad duck.” Manges says. Though she had no interest or experience in duck carving before meeting Gibson, she says, “He makes it a pleasure to go to his studio every week and just talk to him.”

Gibson’s birds range from mallards and scaups—the ducks most often carved for decorative decoys—to the canvasback, an increasingly rare duck on the Eastern Shore. Working from a single block of wood, usually white pine, cedar, or basswood, Gibson begins the careful process of whittling away layers.

After the duck has been fashioned, Gibson’s signature feather-burning method begins. Using a pen-like tool with a heated tip, he burns each feather into the duck, a process that can take as many as 80 hours. “On a mallard, all the feathers are visible,” says Gibson, who used to hunt but now prefers going on “shooting safaris” to photograph migrating birds.

After each feather has been inscribed, Gibson uses acrylic-based paints to complete the duck. But no amount of paint can make up for a poorly made duck, he says. “As carvers, we don’t try to hide our mistakes with paint.”

Although Gibson has received numerous honors for his work as a duck carver, including being named 2000 Artist of the Year by the Delaware Chapter of Ducks Unlimited for his contributions to wildlife conservation, he demurs when people praise his accomplishments.

“Someone’s got to look out for our wildlife,” he says.

Jill Yesko is a Baltimore-based freelance writer.

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