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A Bird in the Hand

Ollie Skrivanie, a retired attorney and resident of Fish Creek, tenderly holds a small stone sculpture in the palm of his hand. It is an unusual item, clearly handcrafted, about four inches long and suggestive of some type of animal. When Skrivanie identifies it as a birdstone, the uninitiated may be apt to say, “Huh?” and be no closer to knowing what this odd but compelling creature is.

Help for the hapless may begin with the fact that birds have, through time and across cultures, been revered as messengers, tools for communicating with the gods, a means of bridging two worlds. Skrivanie’s talisman could well be thought of in the same way, as a messenger from a world different from our own.

Birdstones are small (most ranging from four to seven inches in length) prehistoric carvings that roughly resemble the form of a bird. They were created during the Late Archaic (3,000 – 1,000 BC) and Early Woodland (1,000 – 500 BC) periods and although they are considered to be the highest form of prehistoric Native American art, they are relatively unknown. According to Skrivanie, this is due, in part, to their rarity; only 5,000 are known to exist.

Skrivanie saw his first birdstone at a Native American artifact exhibit in Manitowoc, Wisconsin in 1970 and felt an immediate sense of “kinship,” both with the creator of the piece and with the collectors who have cared for and treasured it. At the same show, Skrivanie met Judge James R. Beer, a renowned collector of prehistoric artifacts and President of the Genuine Indian Relic Society. The encounter started Skrivanie on what has become a lifelong passion for birdstones. Skrivanie and Beer are now, 45 years later, collaborating on a book about birdstones.

The first recorded discovery of a birdstone was in 1840. Most birdstones are found in the region of the United States between the Great Lakes and the Ohio River watershed (very few are found elsewhere) and most are discovered along waterways or in plowed fields. In Earl C. Townsend, Jr.’s Birdstones of the North American Indian (BNAI) and in a recent special issue of Prehistoric American, descriptions of individual birdstones are accompanied by the details of their discovery. One birdstone was found in the back of a farm “along Bachelor Creek” where arrowheads had been collected previously. Others were discovered by farmers sowing wheat or plowing corn. One turned up in a load of gravel, another on a shale bar in Erie County, Ohio. One wily woman in Madison County, Ohio waited in near zero temps to purchase a coal bucket for a quarter at a farm auction because, at the bottom of the bucket, there sat a beautiful blue and gray slate birdstone. (Townsend’s tome, published in 1959, is considered the “birdstone bible.” Only 700 copies were printed, making it as much of a collectible as the art it chronicles. Skrivanie’s oft-referenced copy sits close at hand.)

In addition to being rare, part of the birdstones’ appeal is the mystery that surrounds their existence; no one is quite sure what purpose they served. Most birdstones have perforations drilled into their base and the birdstone community has long debated the purpose of these holes. One theory holds that the stones were used as handles for an atlatl, or device for throwing spears. Proponents of this theory, Townsend being one of them, argue that the birdstones “’feel good’ in the hand, as if they were made to be fitted therein.” This, they argue, would also explain the fact that the perforations are often damaged. Skrivanie disagrees.

“The beauty and craftsmanship that goes into these pieces, the time it must have taken to create them and the care with which materials were chosen all lead me to think they were treasured ceremonial objects.”

Unless a birdstone is found in situ, this mystery is unlikely to be solved.

For all their appeal, birdstones have not been widely embraced by the world art community. Some are in museums and galleries, but most, according to Skrivanie, “are held by private collectors—farmers, teachers, oilmen, judges, lawyers, university presidents, coal mine workers, doctors, and almost every known occupation.” At one time, a handful of collectors held a large percentage of the available pieces. This has changed over the years due to, in Skrivanie’s words, “the three Ds – death, divorce and division. The three Ds have allowed more collectors to be involved even though their collections are smaller.”

If birdstones are rare, their collectors are rare birds, too. Skrivanie conjectures that the desire to collect might “satisfy a sense of personal aesthetics and act as a kind of security against uncertainty.” He describes his collecting as a journey.

“At first it was an excellent way to escape the stresses and strains of work.” Soon, it became a passion. “I became a little crazy. I caution all collectors to avoid the affliction I call ‘blind dog in the butcher shop.’ You can passionately pursue to such an extent that you become careless and indiscriminant, until the day someone tells you that you have some fakes, reproductions or restored objects!”

Part of Skrivanie’s journey included the decision to concentrate his efforts on collecting only high quality pieces.

“Of the 5,000 birdstones discovered, 80 percent are broken. The 900 to 1,000 that remain are ordinary with damage. That leaves 100. 50 of these are ‘5s, 6s and 7s.’ The remaining 50 are ‘8s, 9s and 10s’. I wanted the‘10s.’”

He at one time held what were considered to be the second, third and fourth best specimens in the world. While Skrivanie adheres to Somerset Maugham’s philosophy that “if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it,” neither is he dismissive of the collector who chooses other criteria and he is particularly respectful of collectors who have “personal find” collections.

“Even if their collection is not of the highest quality, they have a special connection to it, having made the discoveries themselves.”

Skrivanie is now considered one of the preeminent birdstone collectors in the world. He co-edited and is credited with being the driving force behind the above-mentioned Birdstone Special Issue of Prehistoric American, the most significant publication on birdstones since Townsend’s BNAI. Skrivanie’s personal collection once numbered 13; it is now down to seven (he blames a “momentary mental weakness” for at least one of the sales. As with much of Skrivanie’s life, there is a story there, but space dictates saving it for another time.)

One doesn’t have to do much reading on birdstones to know that Skrivanie’s love for individual birdstones is a common experience among collectors.

“No two are alike,” he explains. “They each have their own personality and you become very attached and drawn to certain ones.”

Educator, historian and author Richard Sisson posits that the appeal has something to do with the “countenance of these objects, whether prayerful, regal, proud, alert, or simply ‘perky.’” Skrivanie laughs while recalling an experience he had years ago.

“I fell in love with a specimen owned by a family in Waupaca and it was bad. I never did get the family to sell it to me — their grandfather had found it but, I was given ‘visiting rights!’”

Earl C. Townsend, Jr. puts the fascination with birdstones in a broader context with his assertion that “the study of archeology in any form gives some basis for a better understanding of human life. This alone justifies the time and effort spent on the subject, for man cannot know too much about the experience of his predecessors if he is to improve himself.”

While this is indisputably true, Skrivanie is quick to note that where collecting is concerned, there is a selfishness that’s freeing. “The only one you have to make happy is you!” Collecting birdstones has clearly made Oliver Skrivanie a happy man.

“Each bird is a reminder of the joy of living on this island earth.”

Ollie Skrivanie is a retired attorney/CPA who lives in Fish Creek. He practiced law and accounting for 37 years in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. In addition to birdstones, his interests include reading, basketball, film noir movies, occasional games of Horse in the driveway, golf twice a week if weather permits, grandchildren and breakfast every Friday at either Pelletier’s or the White Gull Inn with a group of retired men, “the geezers.”