“The duck comes out of my thumb. And my thumb has finally said no.” — Why a 74-year-old Maryland potter is selling his last hand-painted duck dishes at a special price, before his kiln goes cold for good.

At ten past six every morning, a mallard drake walks up the old dock behind Gus Tilghman’s house. Green head. White ring around the neck. He stands on the last board and looks at the water.

Gus watches him through the window of his boat shed, a cup of coffee in one hand. Then he sits down at the bench and paints that same duck. He has done it for 38 years.

Gus is 74. He lives in Havre de Grace, Maryland, a small town where the Susquehanna River meets the Chesapeake Bay. The sign at the edge of town calls it “The Decoy Capital of the World.”

“I don’t paint a duck from a book. I paint the one that’s standing on my dock.”

The only Tilghman duck his mother was allowed to keep

Gus’s father, Clarence, carved wooden decoy ducks for 41 years. People came from three states to buy them. When Gus was twelve, his father handed him a carving knife.

“Twenty minutes later I had a bandage and no duck. Dad said, ‘Son, find something else.’”

It took him a while. In 1987, at 36, Gus signed up for a pottery class at the night school in town. In the third week, he shaped a little mallard out of clay and set it on the edge of a small oval dish. He painted a pond inside. Reeds. Two little fish.

He gave it to his mother, Ada, for her soap. She put it next to her kitchen sink. It stayed there for 31 years, until the day she passed. Today it sits on a shelf in his shed, a small chip on the rim, right next to his father’s wooden ducks.

“She said it was the only Tilghman duck she was ever allowed to keep in the kitchen.”

A boat shed, one kiln and more than 6,000 ducks

After that first dish, people kept asking. A neighbor. Then the neighbor’s sister. Then a woman from Baltimore who had seen one at a friend’s house. Gus turned the old boat shed behind his house into a workshop.

It is a small room. In winter the kiln keeps it warm. It smells of wet clay and coffee. Through the window you can see the bay and, most mornings, the ducks.

Each dish takes Gus about six hours, spread over a week. He shapes the dish. He pinches the duck out of the same piece of clay. He lets it dry. Then he paints the pond, the reeds and the bird, and fires it twice. In 38 years, he has made more than 6,000 of them.

Mallard in summer, swan in winter

Gus makes just two dishes. The Mallard is the drake from his dock, with reeds, grass and two little fish in the pond.

The Swan comes from November. Every fall, thousands of tundra swans fly down from the Arctic and land on the Flats for the winter. You can hear them from Gus’s kitchen at night. The Swan dish has lily pads, an old wooden fence and a soft pink rim.

“I only make the swan in winter. When they’re here. It doesn’t feel right otherwise.”

What 38 years taught him about a soap dish

The first thing people usually say when they unpack one is, “It’s bigger than I thought.” That is on purpose. Gus has spent 38 years getting the little details right.

• “The One-Piece Pinch”: The duck or swan is pinched from the same piece of clay as the dish. It isn’t glued on. “A glued duck falls off in the sink sooner or later,” Gus says. “Mine stays put.”
• “The Decoy Paint Code”: Gus paints the mallard in the same colors his father used on his wooden decoys: green head, white neck ring, speckled brown chest. About 40 brush strokes on the head alone.
• “The Pond Floor”: The pond inside is raised, with little waves, reeds and fish. A bar of soap rests on top of them instead of sitting in a puddle.
• “The Double Fire”: Every dish is glazed and fired twice. Water can’t soak in, and a quick wipe keeps it clean. It works just as well for rings, keys or a few candies.

The morning the duck’s neck wouldn’t come

What Gus will miss most are the mornings. The coffee. The duck on the dock. The quiet hour at the bench before the rest of the town wakes up.

Last winter, the arthritis in both of his thumbs got worse. Gus can still hold a brush. He can still paint a pond. But the neck and the bill of each bird are pinched out of the clay between thumb and finger, and his thumbs won’t do it anymore.

“I can paint the water all day. But the duck comes out of the thumb. And my thumb has said no.”

This fall, Gus fired the kiln one last time. There is no one to take over. 214 dishes are left, Mallards and Swans together. When they are gone, there will be no more.

“Behind glass, a duck is just a duck”

Last spring, a gallery in Annapolis offered Gus $140 for every dish he had left. He thought about it for one night. Then he said no.

“They’d put them in a glass case. My ducks belong next to a sink, where somebody looks at them every morning. Like my mother did.”

So Gus is letting his last 214 dishes go for less than half of what the gallery offered. He hopes most of them end up with mothers and grandmothers, the way the first one did.

Gus doesn’t own a computer. His granddaughter Corinne, a schoolteacher in Baltimore, took the photos on his kitchen table and set up the page where you can order. She packs every box herself on Saturdays.

“I told her, ‘Don’t write anything that isn’t true.’ She said, ‘Grandpa, I’m just writing down what you tell me.’”

What people say about Gus’s duck dishes

• ★★★★★

  “It is bigger than I expected, a whole bar of soap fits with room to spare. The little mallard looks exactly like the ones on our pond. I smile at it every morning when I wash my hands.”

  Sharon M., Lancaster, PA
• ★★★★★

  “I bought the swan for my mother’s 80th birthday. She called me the same evening to tell me where she put it. Then she asked if I could get her the duck too.”

  Karen W., Dover, DE
• ★★★★★

  “Solid and heavy, not thin and cheap. I keep my rings in it by the kitchen sink. You can feel the little waves on the bottom with your finger.”

  Deborah L., Richmond, VA

Three questions people ask before ordering

Where can I buy one of Gus’s duck dishes?

Only through this page. Gus’s dishes are not sold on Amazon, Temu or in any store.

How long will they be available?

Only while supplies last. The kiln has been fired for the last time, and there are 214 dishes left, Mallards and Swans together. Once they are gone, there will be no more.

What if it’s not right for me?

You have 30 days to try it at home. If you are not happy, just send a short email and you will get your money back. No questions, no hassle.

More from people who keep one by the sink

• ★★★★★

  “My late husband carved decoys as a hobby. When I saw the colors on this mallard, I had to buy one. It sits on the windowsill next to his last duck.”

  Joan T., Easton, MD
• ★★★★★

  “Ordered one for me and one for my sister. They came very well packed, not a scratch. Prettier in person than in the photos.”

  Linda R., Wilmington, NC
• ★★★★★

  “I use the swan for my keys by the front door. Everyone who comes in picks it up and asks where I got it.”

  Nancy B., Frederick, MD