I’ve intended to compile a Chincoteague visitors guide for years, but the charm of the island can’t be conveyed in a top-ten list of restaurants or tourist destinations. So in the meantime, I’d like to share a series of snapshots and portraits with you – just a few of the many reasons I consider it my home away from home.
The business laws on Chincoteague are extremely lax in comparison to most cities, so walking down any residential street, you’re likely to stumble upon a table piled high in konk shells just steps from someone’s front stoop, adorned with a hand-carved sign and honorary lock box payment system.
Decoy carvers open their garages to the public and residents set up galleries in their living rooms. All one needs to open a business is a little ingenuity and a sign to stake in their yard advertising their goods (okay, I may be exaggerating, but I can assure you it’s not by much).
So it was no surprise when Bobby and I were walking down Main Street, we passed a house whose sun porch was decorated in a colorful spectrum of carved birds and a plastic red sign propped up against the window announcing “open.” We hesitantly opened the screen door, peeked our heads in and began surveying the abundance of crudely carved folk art before us.
Sawdy Jester bird carvings
Petite birds glued to plastic bottle caps. Ducks painted colors not found in nature. This was no ordinary decoy carver as a traditional mallard or wood duck was nowhere to be found.
A kind woman welcomed us to her home and gave us the history behind the carver – her husband Sawdy. Beads of sweat rolling down our faces in the stagnant air of the sun porch, we meticulously inspected each bird until we had a few picked out and ready to purchase.
A gravelly voice called to us from the other room, inviting us to look throughout the house for more treasures. We stepped over the threshold and there he was, grinning with the few teeth he had left and wearing only a pair of threadbare boxers. Approximately 80 plus years in age, he peacefully sat next to an open window listening to a Mexican radio station – the salsa melodies emanating from a little battery-operated radio he had propped up against his chair.
Hummingbird by Sawdy Jester
A familiar voice, with a strong Chincoteague accent, bellowed through the tiny home and interrupted our tour. In through the back door burst my late grandmother’s cousin – Katherine.* Excited to see one another, we exchanged hugs.
She turned to Sawdy and pointed at us.
“Do you know who this is?” she asked. “This is your cousin Nelson’s granddaughter.”
Yes, so it turns out Sawdy was my late grandfather’s cousin (no relation to Katherine) and the son of renowned decoy carver Doug Jester.
* Tangent: Just walking in the back door of someone’s home unannounced is, or at least was common. Growing up, I can’t remember anyone knocking on my grandparents’ front door. You just walk in and yell out the inhabitant’s name.
When I walk by Sawdy’s house now, I’m greeted by closed blinds and bare windows. He passed more than a few years ago and his widow moved shortly thereafter.
Before I even met him, I simply adored his birds. Each one beautiful in its imperfections. The marks are deliberate but softened by the feebleness of its maker’s hand.
And of course, after meeting him, I appreciate the effort this man expended in his later years when most seniors are content watching soap operas and game shows. As makers, do we ever stop feeling compelled to produce works of beauty?
I hope not.
