Bob Booth

Bob's very first breath was the salt air of Chincoteague over a half century ago. It was taken in the upstairs apartment of an oyster shucking house that his father managed. When he was old enough, his father taught him to trap muskrat, as his father had taught him. Clamming, oystering and gunning (hunting) were all things Bob learned to live at an early age. It looked as if he was destined for a life of "following the water" as the old timers referred to it. Life, though, has a way of taking unexpected turns, and in his early twenties, a back injury denied Bob the life he had planned. It grew progressively worse. In desperation, he searched for a way to help to support his family. The decision was made to try his hand at carving, drawing on the memories of his father, Capt. Al, a carving at the old kitchen table at night after supper while "Miss Laura" Bob's mother crocheted pineapple doilies.

In the beginning, he carved full sized decoys, stools to the homefolk, then went on to carve miniatures. After a change of profession and back surgery, he stopped carving for a few years, busy hears raising a family. One Sunday at church, a friend brought to his attention a picture of him in the paper. It was taken at the Easton Waterfowl Festival where Bob had exhibited in 1974. Once again Bob picked up his knife , but this time, with a sincere wish never to have to put it down again. 

Presently he is concentrating on shore birds. He especially admires the work of the old carvers Cobb, Hudson, Bowman,  Clark, and Holmes to name a few. Being a native born Chincoteaguer, Bob possesses an independent spirit. He expresses this in hi carving by carving no two birds exactly alike. They are, like their maker, definitely one of a kind.