Every big thing starts small.
For me, it started in a cold shed with a blunt grinder, a steel plate, and an idea I wasn’t entirely qualified to pull off.
I wasn’t thinking about launching a brand. I wasn’t thinking about conservation partnerships or shipping birds to half the planet. I wasn’t even thinking about how to pay the power bill that month.
I was just thinking:
“What if I cut a bird out of steel and stuck it on a lamppost?”
That’s it. That’s the whole grand plan that kicked off Metalbird.
A Bit of Backyard Mischief
This was back in 2009, long before we had a website or even a name.
At the time, I was messing around with public art, trying to make creative things happen outside the walls of galleries. I liked the idea of art that didn’t need a ticket or a brochure. Something you could just stumble across while walking the dog.
So I grabbed some scrap steel, fired up the grinder in my shed, and started cutting.
Was it graceful?
Absolutely not.
I had no real training in metalwork. Just a stubborn streak and a love for birds. The first silhouette was a bit rough, if I’m honest. Jagged in places. Wobbly on the edges. But it looked like a Huia, if you squinted... and maybe closed one eye.
Only this Huia was clutching an iPhone in its claws.
A bird long gone, paired with a gadget that won’t stop buzzing. Playful. Pointed. A little absurd. And I liked it.
So I climbed a ladder in the dead of night, hammered it onto a post in Grey Lynn, and walked away.
The First Reactions
At first, no one knew what to make of it.
People thought it was real for about half a second, then realised: hang on, that bird’s not moving. Then came the questions:
“Who put that there?”
“Is it council-approved?”
“Why?”
And honestly, the answer to that last one was: Because it makes people look up.
Turns out, when you put a steel Huia on a lamppost, holding a phone no less, people notice the sky again. They pause. They tilt their heads. They remember there’s a world beyond screens, swipes, and endless to-do lists.
The Huia With the iPhone That Changed Everything
That first silhouette, the Huia with the iPhone, became the bird that set the tone.
I didn’t choose the Huia because it was trendy or cute. I chose it because it isn’t here anymore. Extinct. A bird we’ll never hear sing again.
But in silhouette, it’s frozen mid-perch, phone in its claws. A cheeky nod to the things we miss when we’re not present, and a solemn reminder that some things don’t come back once they’re gone.
It wasn’t meant as a one-off stunt. I wanted the work to blend into the background in the best possible way. To feel like part of the street, part of the day, part of the quiet magic you only notice when you stop and look.
From Shed to Global Project
After I hammered up a few more birds around Auckland, people started asking if they could buy them.
At first, I said no. It wasn’t about selling stuff... it was about creating moments.
But then a woman emailed me saying, “My dad just passed away. Can I get one of your birds for his favourite tree?”
That changed the game for me.
I realised these weren’t just art installations. They were memory markers. Gifts. Symbols of connection.
So I started cutting more. Fantails. Robins. Tūīs. Cardinals. Hummingbirds. Birds from New Zealand, Australia, the US, the UK... places where people feel connected to feathers and flight.
Before I knew it, I’d gone from a bloke with a grinder in the shed to running a company with orders coming in from all over the world.
Why We Still Make the Huia With the iPhone
We still sell that first Huia silhouette today (on our NZ store). In fact, it’s one of our most meaningful designs.
It’s bold. Poetic. It sits on a fence post or garden stake and doesn’t shout, but it speaks volumes if you care to listen.
People buy it for all sorts of reasons:
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To remember someone they’ve lost
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To mark a turning point in life
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To add a bit of weathered poetry to their backyard
One customer told me, “I got the Huia because it reminded me how quickly things can disappear. The phone made me laugh, but it also made me think.”
I reckon that’s the point.
What the First Bird Taught Me
That first Huia-with-iPhone taught me a few things:
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Art doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple shape can hold a big idea.
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People want meaning, not just decoration. They’re not buying a bird, they’re buying a memory, a connection, a feeling.
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Patina is beautiful. Not everything needs to stay shiny. Sometimes the best things deepen with time.
Why We Use Corten Steel
From day one, I used Corten steel, the kind that weathers on purpose. It’s the same material architects use for outdoor sculptures because it ages gracefully and doesn’t fall apart.
When you stick a Metalbird in the ground, it slowly changes colour. First it’s grey, then orange, then deep brown. It becomes part of the landscape.
It doesn’t stay perfect. It stays real.
Just like life.
The Bird That Started It All
Looking back, it’s wild to think how much started with that first shaky Huia silhouette.
From a shed in Grey Lynn to gardens in Chicago, London, Sydney, and Amsterdam, the birds have flown further than I ever imagined.
But at the heart of it, nothing’s really changed. It’s still about stopping people in their tracks. Making them look up. Giving them something to smile about, or ache about, when they see a bird perched where it shouldn’t be.
Suggested Image:
A weathered Metalbird Huia with iPhone on a fence post in Grey Lynn, Auckland. The original silhouette design. Backlit by morning sun, a hint of patina showing. Bonus points if you can spot the old shed in the background.