For decades, Edwin Hawkes has transformed blocks of wood into detailed, lifelike birds that look ready to take flight.
The retired high school shop teacher’s most recent project, a screech owl, took seven months to complete; it’s not unusual for him to spend more than 200 hours on a bird. The slightest changes to how the model is positioned adds even more exacting detail – changing the position of one feather could mean another 25 hours of work.
But though Hawkes has plenty of experience, he’s still constantly learning and enjoys the problem-solving the craft requires.
“I think that almost anybody that is a carver has a good feeling about, ‘I’m doing something that’s worthwhile,’” he said.
Hawkes, of Bar Harbor, is one of fewer than 10 carvers, most of them men, who meet monthly through the Down East chapter of the Maine Wood Carvers Association. Their numbers are diminishing as they age, with little new interest from younger people, according to Hawkes and others involved in the craft statewide.
They hope it will be kept alive as a piece of Maine history and a rewarding task in its own right, which they believe has even more merit in the digital age.
“We don’t want it to die,” said Airin Wolf, a past president of the association who is concerned about highly skilled carvers dying without a younger generation learning from them and keeping the craft alive. “This is an old craft.”
Bird carving in particular has historically been popular among Mainers, though the association’s current membership produces everything from spoons to figurines.
Wildlife wood carving has its roots in carving decoys for hunting and grew popular in the 20th century, according to Audubon Magazine, which in 2020 reported that carvers nationwide were worried about their occupation dying out. Carving contests nationwide proliferated in the 1960s and 70s but have started to thin out. Some suggested viewing the practice as an art will help it stay relevant.
Some of the bird-heavy history in Maine may be owed to the influence of Wendell Gilley, a Southwest Harbor plumber who taught himself to carve birds in the 1930s and rose to national fame.
A museum in his hometown dedicated to his legacy has taught thousands of people the basics of carving since it opened in 1981 and helped numerous Hancock County carvers get started. It appears to be the only such education site in Maine.
There is a risk of the craft dying out, which the museum is trying to fight through its programming, according to director Sean Charette. Summer classes teach the basics, off-season project courses go more in depth, and a carving club meets there weekly.
The museum had a full-time carver on staff until last year and now hosts two part-time teachers.
Though it’s possible to spend hours on a bird, he said even a beginner can quickly create something beautiful with just a knife and block of wood, making it a more accessible craft than people might think.
Charette has observed some new interest in recent years from younger carvers and women, and finds that visiting parents are sometimes surprised by how much their children enjoy and focus on their first bird.
“It takes you to another place. It makes you slow down and be creative,” he said, especially in a world of digital distractions.
To Charette, screens have their value, but also lead people to consume and view rather than create – and from his perspective, it’s still important to create. Gilley believed everyone had some creativity in them, and just had to find the right way to explore it, he said.
Preserving both history and craft is important, he said; one way to get people to appreciate those aspects is to get them to make something themselves.
“From what I’ve seen, everybody does have that (creativity) in one way or another,” he said. “There are lots and lots of ways to be creative…I think it’s really important to give people opportunities to try that.”
Hawkes, who got started carving himself at the Gilley Museum in the 1980s, said advancing in the skill almost requires being mentored by another experienced carver. After carving, there’s painting, welding and metalworking for details. On Thursday, for example, Hawkes and a friend were trying to puzzle out making feet for a peregrine falcon using brass and epoxy.
He’s always been interested in birds, and carving is a way to explore and research their variety, from a tiny hummingbird with feathers an inch and a half long, to an eagle with feathers more than a foot in length.
Creating lifelike carvings also requires paying deep attention to the natural world to grasp the behavior of birds and their surroundings.
But it’s hard to find younger people who want to carve, he said, and he has noticed older participants in declining numbers at annual competitions – the “young” members of the Down East group are in their 60s.
It doesn’t help that carving is generally a solitary activity, said Hawkes, who himself often spends eight to 10 hours a day working alone.
“It is a hard push,” he said. “I just don’t see people getting into it. It just doesn’t get out there well.”
Younger people may just not be aware of the craft either, he said, noting a decline in shop classes, industrial arts and hands-on work in schools.
To that end, the statewide association has connected with shop classes at Bonny Eagle High School in Standish in hopes of recruiting new carvers, according to Wolf.
It’s in serious need of a new generation of members and more participation to keep its programming afloat, he said. In September he led beginner carving workshops at the Common Ground Fair in Unity in an attempt to recruit younger people.
Wolf picked up carving as an adult as a form of self-care, and also sees it as a traditional skill like any other from Maine’s pre-Internet past that brought people together and honed abilities with other practical applications.
“The feeling a person gets from doing it … once you get into it, it goes on forever,” Hawkes said.
