In 1947 the Widjiwagan camp director was Robert Nankivell an energetic, creative, and enthusiastic man who was, reportedly, easy to anger. It is also said that he was a good singer. Apparently he and the long-time caretaker Wilbur Jeffrey did not get along. Reportedly they skirmished through-out there time together. According to Mr. Nankivell, Wilbur was too much of a prankster. According to observers, Wilbur often stole the show. Mr. Nankivell said that he needed a “caretaker not a character.” Wilbur resigned in about 1948.
For many of the early years, in order to survive financially, camp ran two types of camps. The boy’s wilderness adventure camp (like the Widjiwagan we know) and a young adult resort like in-camp camp. Nankivell disliked having the young adult program because he thought they didn’t embrace the values of the Y.
So, in 1947 he ended the young adult resort-like camp. He started the girl’s wilderness adventure program. The increase of girl campers helped stabilize camp financially. He also got Kirby Lodge built.
Some may know of him because of these accomplishments. But I will never again look a rabbit in the eye without thinking of Bob Nankivell. In 1947 or 1948 he was driving a group from Camp Sherwood Forest, a girl’s camp outside group, in the camp truck, down a still wild North Arm road to the lake from which the girl’s would start their trip. Sitting next to him in the cab was the Sherwood Forest counselor, a women he would eventually marry but that was in the future (that was, as they say, down the road). He may or may not have been singing camp songs – rousers some called them. At least one new Old Town was tied on the top of the truck. Suddenly he was confronted by what he later described as a “crazed rabbit” charging at him. He feared for the truck, and the safety of its cargo. So, he swerved to the right. A sturdy branch of a tree leaning from in the roadside gully scraped the length of the new Old Town. Ripping canvas and breaking eighteen ribs. They had to go back to Camp to get another canoe. When interviewed thirty-three years later, Mr. Nankivell still insisted the rabbit was crazed.
Looking for some verification of the story, and knowing that in those days Joe Seliga did the major repairs on Widjiwagan canoes, I looked through a copy of Joe’s repair records. In 1948 there is an entry for $98.24 to repair a Widjiwagan canoe. This is likely the rabbit’s victim. On same page of ledger is a notation that Joe charged $51 for a 17- footer to another camp. The repair cost almost as much as two new Seliga canoes.
There are a couple of moral tale options here. One might be don’t let charging rabbits alter you course, just stay on the road, keep going forward. Or it might be don’t sing “head-shoulders-knees-and-toes” or “slap bang” as you sit next to your future spouse while speeding down an overgrown gravel road unless you want to be known for ages as a character.