LEHI — Doril Watson looks a bit out of place whittling a willow with her pocketknife in a roomful of Cub Scouts.
But the gray-haired Watson doesn't care much — she needs to hone her skills if she's going to teach her grandchildren and great-grandchildren how to make a willow whistle.
A proper one, of course.
"I used to make them when I was a girl," Watson said. "I thought I needed a refresher course."
That's why she joined a group of 9- and 10-year-old Cub Scouts and assorted children at the Lehi Hutchings Museum of Natural History for a primer on whittling whistles.
Susan Whittaker, education director at the museum, did the teaching with a little help from Harold Fenn, a museum board member who says making a good willow whistle is becoming a lost art.
"The idea is, you whittle and you work and then you throw them away and start over," Fenn said.
Fenn figures children of early Utah settlers had a lot more time and a lot less money to spend on toys so they had to come up with their own, using materials they could find in the fields and on river banks.
He knows some of the secrets the pioneer children knew, and he's willing to share, mentoring local children who come for the classes in various old-time activities offered at the museum.
For instance, to make a good whistle, one has to start with a willow that is mostly smooth — a 6- to 8-inch piece cut from a black willow or a weeping willow just after the sap has started to run. To some, black willow whistles are the best.
Then, cut the end off at an angle so one can see how thick the skin is, and then the whittler scores the skin about 2 inches from the top, followed by a thorough knocking so it separates and can be slid off the wood.
A notch or chamber is then cut into the wood and the top is scraped until it's flat.
Slip the sleeve of skin back in place and — voila! — it's a whistle. Sometimes, at least.
"We don't know why it works. That's the truth of it. It's mostly luck and you have to blow gently. You can't blow it too hard," Fenn said.
"It's to torment birds with, that's what it's for."
Ten-year-old Chris Steele was the first one in a room of about 30 whittlers to make his whistle work. He was tickled. His den mother was the next to get it right.
Three-year-old Tyler Griffiths was the best at blowing just right to get a light, wheezy sound.
Others just sighed and settled in for another go.
E-mail: haddoc@desnews.com