There’s a difference between making a bird for the garden and making a bird for memory.
A garden bird can be fun. Light. Decorative. It’s something you buy on a whim because the backyard feels a bit bare, or you saw one on your neighbour’s fence and thought, “Yeah, I want that too.”
But a memorial bird? That’s something else.
That’s sacred ground. It’s a bird people hammer in when words don’t work. When there’s an empty chair at the dinner table. When they’re trying to hold onto someone without holding on too tight.
That’s why, when I design a bird for memorial use, I approach it differently.
The Quiet Weight of Memory
When someone buys a Metalbird as a tribute, they’re not just after a bit of garden art.
They’re buying a marker of love and loss. A silent presence. Something that can sit in the corner of the garden, patinaing gently, reminding them of who’s no longer there... but also, in a weird way, still is.
I think about that every time I sit down to sketch a new silhouette.
It’s not just about getting the wing curve right or making sure the beak’s the right length. It’s about the emotional shape of the bird. The space it holds. The quiet weight of memory.
Starting with the Story
Whenever I design a new bird, especially for the memorial range, I start by asking one question:
What does this bird mean to people?
It’s never just about feathers or beaks. It’s about stories.
In the UK, the Robin is a sign that a loved one is near. In North America, it’s the Cardinal that carries that job. In New Zealand, the Fantail (or Pīwakawaka) is seen as a messenger from the spirit world.
Every bird comes loaded with meaning before I even touch the steel.
So my job is to honour that.
How I Design for Tribute
Here’s how the process usually works:
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Sketching the Shape
I start with pencil on paper. Old-school, but it works. I look at photos, watch videos, spend time in the bush or the backyard, paying attention to how the bird moves.
It’s not just about static poses... it’s about capturing life. A head tilt. A wing flick. That moment when the bird seems to be listening to the world.
For a memorial bird, I lean toward poses that feel still but present. Not soaring away, but staying close.
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Thinking About Presence
A memorial bird needs to feel like a companion, not a show-off.
I avoid big dramatic wingspans or exaggerated poses. I go for something subtle. Grounded. A silhouette that can sit quietly in the garden and hold space, without shouting for attention.
It’s about designing a bird that says, “I’m here when you need me.”
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Cutting the First Prototype
Once I’m happy with the sketch, I transfer it to steel.
The first cut is always rough. There’s usually swearing involved. My shed isn’t exactly a high-tech studio... it’s more like a glorified garage with bad lighting and a coffee mug that hasn’t been washed since 2012.
But that first cut matters. It’s where I see how the bird lives in steel.
Does the patina catch the right edges? Does the light shine through the wing the way I imagined? Does it feel like it belongs in a garden, next to a tree or a chair or a memory?
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Testing in the Wild
Before a new memorial bird ever hits the website, I stick it in the ground and leave it there.
I watch how it weathers. How the silhouette shifts in morning sun and afternoon shade. How it looks when the garden’s in bloom... and when it’s not.
Sometimes I change things after that. Adjust the tail. Soften the beak. It’s all about finding the balance between art and emotion.
Why Patina Matters
People often ask me, “Why do you use Corten steel for memorial birds? Won’t it rust?”
Short answer: It’ll patina. And that’s the point.
The surface patina tells a story. It says: “I’ve been here a while. I’m part of this place now.”
Memorial birds are meant to change over time. They weather with the seasons, just like grief does. Some days they catch the light perfectly. Other days they fade into the background. And that’s okay.
That’s life.
Real Stories, Real Birds
I get emails every week from people who’ve placed a Metalbird as a tribute.
One woman told me she put a Robin next to her dad’s favourite fishing spot. She said, “Now I don’t just look at the river... I see Dad there, too.”
Another man put a Fantail by his mum’s rose bush. He said, “Mum loved birds. This one stays put, even when the real ones don’t.”
These stories stay with me. They remind me that every bird we send out isn’t just a piece of steel... it’s part of someone’s life now.
It’s About More Than Metal
At the end of the day, designing a memorial bird isn’t about creating a product. It’s about creating a presence.
Something solid but gentle.
Something beautiful but humble.
Something that stays, quietly, in the background of someone’s grief and growth.
That’s why I still do the sketches myself. That’s why we cut, pack, and ship locally. That’s why every bird is designed to last... not just physically, but emotionally.
Because memory isn’t something you hold onto with your hands. It’s something you hold onto with your heart.
Want to Create Your Own Tribute?
If you’re looking for a way to mark memory, to keep someone close without holding on too tight, the Metalbird memorial range is here.
Find your bird here.
They’re designed to be remembered.
Suggested Image:
A Metalbird silhouette of a Robin in soft morning light, its patina rich and warm. Behind it, blurred in the background: a favourite chair, an old tree, or a pair of empty gumboots by the door... subtle signs of life and memory.