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October 26, 2006  Form Follows Something What is the inspiration of great architecture? There are probably a number of answers but I think boredom is as good as any. Sure, a building’s design may suggest that it defies gravity, or echoes its surroundings, but a structure still depends to some degree on how bored the architect felt on the day he started his drawing. I well know the feeling as it applies to the building of bird feeders. When I undertake construction of a new feeder I start with the old axiom, form follows function. (It is my understanding that this saying means a thing looks the way it does because of the particular job it does.) I try to employ this principle in designing bird feeders, unfortunately my plans often go off track. I recently found myself without bird feeders after a bear mauled all of mine while I was away house-sitting. So I decided it was time to build anew and replace those destroyed by the pesky bruin. I wanted to create a new platform feeder and a new ‘trickle’ feeder. In my world, seed feeders are of two types - those in which a bird stands ankle deep in seeds, (platform types,) and those which slowly deliver seed from a port or similar restrictive opening (trickle types.) This year it was my goal to make no less than the mother of all ‘trickle’ feeders - Here is where the form follows the function. To function properly my new feeder would need to act as long-term storage for large amounts of seed so it would have to be big. So big, in fact, that I would only need to fill it once every month. This capacity would insure an ample and continuous supply of food during times when smaller feeders went empty and I couldn’t get back to fill them. Of course I have the option of building large box-like affairs, but I’ve constructed such monstrosities in years gone by and they no longer hold any charm. In a stroke of what might have been the only true project inspiration, I decided the roof would be the seed storage compartment. The design would involve a hollow A-frame shape, in effect two rectangular containers joined together to form the roof. And so I set to work. Each portion was constructed separately then joined at right angles with bolts - I wanted the ability, should it become necessary, to disassemble my prototype. The joined containers would function as a roof and at the same time protect the seed on the tray below from snow and rain. The eaves of the roof became progressively wider from the lower edge to the top, and the side-profile was that of a fan, narrow at the bottom then flaring wider towards the top… …Actually, it turned out that it wasn’t quite the apex. In order to fill the roof with seed there needed to be some kind of opening on top. So I quickly took this into account and made the A-frame topless. It now became necessary to enclose the seed hole by building up short walls from the angled roof, and then capping the whole thing off with a removable roof. Of course I also had to waterproof the whole structure (no leaky Vancouver condos for my birds,) so I covered the big portion of the roof with a thin metal painted green, and the smaller upper roof with purple plastic. When all was bolted and screwed into place, the feeder weighed close to 20 pounds - and this was without seed inside! This was definitely not going to be some wimpy hanging feeder. Despite feeling that I was finished and had designed a truly interesting feeder, there was still a very important feature lacking; no platform yet existed to catch the seed as it spilled gloriously through carefully engineered slots on the lower edge of the roof/container. I had no immediate solution so I sat, pondered, and awaited further inspiration. None came. The feeder sat incomplete, empty, and bottomless atop its future resting place; a metal pole topped by the inverted legs of a metal stool which gently cupped the resting bird feeder. There was no doubt the green and purple feeder looked interesting, if somewhat gaudy. Thankfully, I never went ahead with plans to silicone a few yellow plastic cut-out stars to the roof. Almost a week went by, then suddenly and without fanfare I built a simple platform for the gargantuan feeder. It was finally finished put back on its stand. It still sits empty and will remain so until I am sure the bear is deep in hibernation. When the snow comes and the coast is clear I will fill the feeder to the rafters with black sunflower seed. If it works as designed, the feeder should hold about three, four-litre ice cream buckets of seed. And the seed will spill parsimoniously onto the platform under the protection of the projecting roof system. Frank Lloyd Wright would likely gasp in horror at the sight of my new feeder but luckily a bird only cares that it spills forth food like manna from heaven. Architects the world over probably rejoice in the fact that, no matter how ugly the final construction is, if it functions, it will be used. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
