BUSHCRAFT WHITTLING

Sixty-five years ago, when I was a kid, I was a burgeoning bushcraft whittler. I don’t remember if I even thought of myself as a whittler. I just did it.

“I’m going to the bush with Sandy,” I’d tell Mom as I headed out the door. Sandy was my best friend who lived a block away. Half a block away was a big patch of forest — the bush. We had great times building “forts,” pretending we were Robin Hood or Davy Crockett, getting dirty, and just having as much fun as a couple of boys could.

Whittling with a knife, axe, or saw was always part of these adventures, and we often gathered materials in the bush and brought them home to continue our projects. We had no instruction. We just got an idea and tried it, and as we did, our skills grew,