Medium sized black birds rode the wind like surfers in wet suits did the waves in the icy drink. I spotted another kind of bird riding the ridge of a nearby house… that bird wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d seen birds like that a lot when my years on this planet were more like the sum of my elementary math class equations. That type of fowl was chic in less complicated times, I even owned one once myself, but it was more by chance; it came with an old house I bought. My bird came up missing. Someone must have hoisted it because I know it didn’t just up and fly away.
It’s odd how when you grow up with things like that rooster, we seldom stop to ask why or how it became so popular and what a metal rooster on top of an arrow, that’s pivoting on top of the perfect cross that points to the four compass points of the earth, has to do with the wind.
The rooster never made sense to me – and that was even before I heard the song by Bob Dylan with the line, “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
I completely get the windsocks at airports. Knowing the direction and strength of a cross breeze while landing a plane is pretty important… especially if you want to walk on the earth when you’re done flying above it.
I suppose the elders that went before us took for granted the rooster pointing the direction of the wind on top of the church steeples. They probably figured if it was good enough for the church, it was good enough for their house.
I recall an old gold colored lamp in our living room, it was a wind vane rooster too… the only time he ever changed directions is when my mom would rearrange the furniture or when we moved.
I just recently learned that folk history points to the rooster as being symbolic of Peter’s denial of Christ those three times before the crowing and the subsequent melting of Peter’s heart.
I once pondered the need for a metal bird pointing the direction the wind blows. Today I reflect on how they’ve all but disappeared. I can use a constant reminder of how weak my flesh is and how I’m prone to wander… Lord I feel it…
It seems we’re not so different than those metal roosters. We get tossed about by life’s storms and winds and our physical life points to where we’re headed.
Only God knows the exact origin and timing of when the wind blows. When we’re pointing to His will in our lives it isn’t a horizontal point on this globe we call earth, it’s up, up and away… From the hearts where He dwells as well as to heaven where He waits… Holding the last storm in His left hand.
My guess is that you won’t need a metal rooster to tell you the direction it will be coming from…