For most of the near-century that he lived, the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries were integral in the life of Lewis Shelton, who died last month at the age of 96. He possessed an understanding of the bay that was unique and all-encompassing. The waterways comprised the means of his commercial livelihood and the inspiration for his great artistry. Lewis was truly a Chesapeake Bay Man.
His career on the water was varied across his lifetime. He had captained one of the ferries that preceded the building of the Robert O. Norris Jr. Memorial Bridge across the Rappahannock River from White Stone to Grey’s Point. Later, he captained a menhaden fish boat in the bay and the Atlantic Ocean.
Lewis’s enduring legacy is the wide collection of waterfowl carvings that he made and painted over many years. His style made its own statement, and his birds stand out in any display of such works. The detail of his carving was matched by the masterful artistry of his painting. His works have been collected widely, thereby spreading his fame far beyond the Chesapeake region.
Lewis was the uncle of Frank Shelton, about whom I wrote an item upon his death in 2001, and his wife Ann, and through them I came to know Lewis and his wife, Mae. Lewis and Mae’s home is on the water in White Stone, a migratory stopover for Canada geese on their northern and southern flights.
Walking along his shoreline three years ago, Lewis came across a goose egg. He brought it home and decided to try to hatch it. In that endeavor he was extraordinarily successful. When the gosling came out of its shell, Lewis named him Henry, not after me, but because he liked the name. At the time, Lewis was a few weeks short of 93.
As Henry developed, he knew no other geese, and came to think of himself as a person, rather than a gander. He developed an extensive honking vocabulary, having been talked to by Lewis every day. After he had feathered out, Lewis tried to get him to associate with a gaggle of geese stopping on his shoreline, but they would have nothing to do with Henry, and they began pecking at him.
After a year of living in the Shelton yard, enjoying camping at their stoop, Lewis offered Henry to me. Collecting him was quite an operation, as he thrives on companionship, but he does not like to be petted or held. With the help of Lewis’s nephew, Ira Shelton, we were able to get Henry into my portable fowl cage and off we went to begin a new life together.
When we reached home and I proceeded to release him from the cage, he was extremely grateful and started talking to me nonstop. He craves human companionship and seems to endure Gladys and the other fowl, showing what a “good sport” he is, but when I appear, he drops all of them in a flash, opting to follow me around the yard. No dog could be a more faithful companion.
Occasionally, a gaggle will fly overhead, honking away. Henry honks back, but he makes clear that he has no desire to fly away with them. His focus is totally human-oriented. The next generation of B.E.s has come to appreciate him, enjoying talking to him and getting his honks in return.
Lewis was a kind and gentle person and for the formative year that he hatched and raised Henry, he imbued those characteristics in him. Henry has become an important part of our family, for which we are thankful to Lewis and Mae for making him such. Many pieces of Lewis’s artwork can be found attesting to his magnificent abilities with a carving knife and a paintbrush. Henry is a living presence of his great humanity and love of animals.
Lewis Vernial Shelton, March 1, 1928 – March 28, 2024. R.I.P.
