Adamson Studio

For those interested in learning to carve with a chainsaw. I'm working with "Kootenai Country International Chainsaw Carving show this week. The show runs Thursday till Sunday. September 4th -7th. My Classes are on Friday and Saturday. Notice the poster in this post. See you there!

Thanks to all who came out for the Kootenai Pets for Life Bow Wow Bash Fundraiser.
And to those who worked so hard to make it happen! Thanks for allowing me to Auction again!

Good morning. A balmy 54F on the 10th day of September. The Chainsaw carving event is over. And time to move into finishing up some existing projects. Here's another back story to "THE ROAD TO WINSLOW: THE MAKING OF THE EASY STATUE.
My ducks and geese are gone, now the pheasants....
"The Pheasants now fully grown had been unscathed by the happenings outside of their pen. In their spring plumage, they had obviously reached adulthood and sure enough the hens started laying eggs.
I’d spent enough time with the rooster to get a decent sculpture study done and within a few weeks it would be ready for the molding process. There were a couple of boards I rigged up toward the top of the barn so the pheasants would fly around in the cage and take an occasional perch during the day. And it seemed to work out for them as the spot to roost for the night.
A bag of pheasant feed was placed in the barn next to the chicken wire door that opened the pen. Feeding and watering was in the morning. An old tin coffee can sufficed as a scoop, and I’d throw the pheasants the feed after checking the water. The pheasants, 2 hens and one rooster, never seemed at ease in the pen as chickens would. At feeding time they always seemed to panic when the pen door opened and they’d fly around and land up in the roost.
This particular morning after the pheasant whirl wind and landing on the roost, I noticed as the feed flew out of the coffee can, that a mouse was flying in the air with the feed. The mouse was quickly noticed by the pheasants and set off a frenzy. I had no idea that a mouse so tiny compared to the full-grown pheasants would cause any concern. Within seconds one of the hens had the mouse in her beak. The rooster and the other hen were in a contest as to which one could get the mouse out of the first hens’ beak. Within a minute the mouse had been devoured. This morning’s event was surprising to me to say the least. I promptly found a mouse trap and set it out in the barn. The following morning, a dead mouse was tossed into the pheasant pen. The result was the same, the pheasants fought each other over which one would have a mouse for breakfast. The pheasants ran around the pen, the rooster grabbed the mouse from the hen’s beak, within a second the other hen stole the mouse from the rooster and had the mouse for its morning meal.
It was time to make a trip to Kalispell, where two artists Glenn Swanson and Mark Ogle had a Gallery at the loading dock just off Main Street. Glenn, being one the best bird sculptors I’ve ever met, listening to my pheasant story, open a reference book on upland game birds. Sure enough, pheasants eat meat. It seemed Glenn was also surprised to learn that.
I had a clay sculpture with me. It was the head of a golden eagle. Glenn was kind enough to take a look at it and gave me some pointers on the eyes and beak. His experience and advice helped me complete an accurate sculpture. It was always nice to stop and visit with fellow artists, Mark and Glen always made me feel welcome.
Out of town again, and a phone call to Julie, the hens were dead. Julie informed me that something had dug under the chicken wire. The rooster was in full color and very useful as a subject for a sculpture. There had been a skunk in the area as the fumes would roll in on occasion and the skunk had found the pheasant pen.
“No, the skunk was not in the barn this morning when going to feed them.” Julie informed me. “Well, let him out of the pen, the skunk will return until it kills him too.”
The next day Julie let me know the pheasant had been released, but things did not go well. What? I’m thinking the pheasant should be happy to have free run out in our field. Julie gave me the story. The pheasant was timid on being released, stood still looking around for a few minutes and then launched into the air. This was the first time the pheasant had the experience of flying further than from the ground to his roost in the pen. Sadly, in all of the wide-open spaces in the field, the pheasant chose to go south and landed in the middle of the Kootenai River and drowned. Hence my pheasant bronze was titled “Final Flight”. So ended my attempts to raise birds.
The issue with this skunk was not over.