Bouldin the Peacock: From Giant Tree to Neighborhood Gem
- DustyGirl
- Jun 21
- 8 min read
Updated: Jun 22
This is the tale and reality of bringing Bouldin, the Peacock, to life for his grand debut in the Bouldin Creek neighborhood.
The carving stage was set at a 97-degree heat, enveloping everything—especially me, covered in sawdust and surrounded by enough humidity to fill a large birdbath. Honestly, it's not even August yet! At this rate, I might as well start charging admission for the humidity spectacle. I could call it "The Great Drip-Off!" I could even sell tickets: "Come watch the human fountain in action!" Who would have thought wood carving would turn into an Olympic event in sauna-like conditions? Seriously, I don't sweat unless the humidity hits 90%...like all week! I was grateful that I could hose down a few times a day.
Even with my dependable pop-up tent that looks like a lonely little cloud still made me feel like I was melting into the tree! Ok back to the journey...
The mission was straightforward:
Create a majestic, life-sized peacock that matched my concept drawing, serving as a regal tribute to the roughly 15 strutting superstars of this unique area in Austin. No pressure, right? To add to the challenge, the carving site is located at the busiest roundabout corner in the area! The canvas? A magnificent cedar ash, undoubtedly holding more secrets than a gossipy magnolia tea brunch.
The story of Bouldin actually begins with a giant. This wasn't just any tree; it was a massive cedar ash, the kind of grand old being that dominated the streetscape and offered generous shade for decades. Its sheer size made it hard to ignore, a silent landmark in the neighborhood. In fact, when the time finally came for it to be taken down, the owners, Aisha and Gunnar, recounted how the fire department had to be called in, its sprawling branches reaching all the way across the street – a testament to its impressive reach.
With such a significant presence now gone, Aisha and Gunnar felt a desire to give something back to the community, to mark the spot with a new kind of beauty. And I was deeply honored that I was the first person they called with this vision. The speed of this project still amazes me – I started carving Bouldin less than three weeks after that mighty tree came down. It felt like a whirlwind of creative energy, a race against the Austin heat to bring their thoughtful idea to life.
My Epic Stump Encounter
I experienced that well-known excitement, engaging in a silent dialogue with the massive stump. Yes, you heard that right—a stump! It was like the wise old sage of the forest, except instead of offering life advice, it just sat there looking... well, stumpy. I was filled with a nervous energy laced with excitement, like a squirrel on a caffeine high, knowing there's an amazing throne chair concealed within. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sit on a throne made from nature’s finest lumber? So there I was, having an intense mental showdown with a stump, feeling like a mix between a forest queen and a confused lumberjack or should I say lumberJill?!
Who knew a simple stump could spark such grand visions? I mean, who wouldn’t want to sit on a throne made of cedar elm? It’s like the original luxury furniture—just add a few cushions and voilà, you’re ready to rule the forest!
Welcome to the Wild West: South Austin Edition
This tree is so ancient that South Austin didn't exist yet, in fact the area was originally called Waterloo before being renamed Austin. This stump might even be over 200 years old. Around 1825, South Austin was going through some serious changes. Picture this: a bunch of Native American tribes minding their own business, probably having a great time trading beads and telling ghost stories around the campfire. Then, out of nowhere, American settlers show up like they just won the lottery on a one-way ticket to "Texas: The Land of BBQ and Big Hats."
The Great Migration
These settlers, part of Stephen F. Austin's colonization efforts, were ready to turn the area into a bustling hub of cowboy boots and questionable fashion choices. You can imagine the conversation: Settler 1: "Hey, do you think we should ask for a welcome party?" Settler 2: "Nah, I hear they prefer their parties with less ‘settling’ and more ‘saddle up!’" As the settlers started to stake their claims, it was like watching a game of musical chairs, but instead of chairs, it was land, and instead of music, it was the sound of cattle mooing and the occasional “Yeehaw!”
What Could Go Wrong?
And just like that, South Austin transformed from a serene landscape into a scene straight out of a spaghetti western, complete with dust storms that could make a tumbleweed cry. Who knew that the only thing standing between a peaceful existence and the chaos of settlers was a whole lot of “Howdy, partner!” and a few too many horses? So, if you ever find yourself in South Austin, remember: you're walking on land that once had a very different vibe—one where the only settlers were probably just trying to perfect their fire-making skills instead of perfecting their brisket recipes!
I can only imagine the tree thinking, "Oh great, here come the settlers with their axes and dreams of BBQ!" I’m convinced that the rich history of the cedar elm still murmurs stories of love, conflict, and joy, which charge up my imagination. It’s like a woodland soap opera—“As the Cedar Elm Turns,” where the plot twists involve squirrels plotting acorn heists and the occasional deer romance. Honestly, if trees could talk, this one would probably have a podcast!
What story would this piece tell? Would it speak of regal gatherings or quiet moments of solitude? As I carved away the layers, I felt a connection to the past, wondering about the hands that had once touched this tree.
Have you ever uncovered something that sparked your creativity? Share your stories with me!
From Vision to Reality: Navigating the Creative Journey
But as any artist (or anyone who's ever tried to assemble IKEA furniture) knows, the path from vision to reality is rarely a straight shot. This project threw its fair share of curveballs, or perhaps more accurately, rusty wire and tiny, uninvited roommates, my way.
The Texas heat, with its intense blaze, served as a relentless "motivator." My survival plan was straightforward: hydrate, carve, hose down, and repeat. On top of that, the huge stump was saturated with water, splashing me in the fast with each cut.
Then came the termites. Oh, the termites. These tiny, industrious squatters had also made themselves quite at home within the cedar ash. As I carved, I’d occasionally uncover their intricate tunnel systems, like discovering a miniature, very busy highway network. While they mostly just added extra protein to the sawdust, it was a constant reminder that this tree had a bustling inner life long before I showed up with a chainsaw.
Adventures in the Heartwood
But the most unexpected, and frankly, astounding challenge lay hidden deep within the wood: metal. And not just a few forgotten nails – those are practically standard timber-decor these days. No, this was different. About 16 inches into the trunk, my saw would suddenly send a spark and go no further! The culprit? A thick, four-wire wrap, stubbornly embedded in the heartwood. It was clearly ancient, a relic from a time long past, likely used for fencing, support or some other purpose. This wire got wrapped around the tree when it was only about 25 years old.
Hitting that wire wasn't a one-and-done affair. Oh no, it was like a game of whack-a-mole! It happened again. And again. And again. I swear it was at least 10 times in different areas deep within the heartwood. Each encounter meant stopping the saw, carefully chiseling away the stubborn metal, then re-sharpening my chain if it could, in fact, be saved – a process that devours time faster than a hungry beaver at a wood buffet!
However, with every spark and stall of my saw, a peculiar sense of respect emerged. This tree wasn't merely ancient; it was a survivor, bearing battle scars as evidence of its epic journey through the ages. Each wire I uncovered felt like a hidden treasure, a testament to the tree's resilience, making me wonder what stories it could tell if only it could talk!
Metals of Honor
I've begun referring to these unexpected metal encounters as my "metals of honor." It's as if the tree is saying, "I've experienced things and endured pain." During my last carving, I discovered a whole treasure trove: old nails, more wire, several genuine railroad spikes, and, astonishingly, two worn-out horseshoe rasps.
Gratitude and Renewal:
Thank You, Bouldin Creek Community
Despite these hurdles (and the occasional termite
surprise in my hair), I am immensely grateful for the support from the Bouldin Creek community, which has been nothing short of incredible. I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to Aisha and Gunnar, the couple who commissioned this piece. Their kindness and generosity made a significant difference, as they were so incredibly accommodating throughout the entire process, ensuring I had everything I needed and creating such a welcoming atmosphere. Aisha frequently treated me to the most refreshing drinks, such as Ginger Mint Lemonade and Strawberry Mint Lemonade, which I truly appreciated.
Each day, even twice a day, neighbors would stop by like a friendly pit crew, eager to see the progress. Their enthusiastic remarks such as "Looking great!" and "Wow!" along with the occasional cold drink, like the Vietnamese coffee Alexis gave me from Matties, and the nice lady who gave me fresh tamales and a nice man handed me some cookies. This truly energized me to keep moving. Their genuine interest in "Bouldin" the peacock reminded me that this wasn't just my job; it was becoming a shared source of pride for the neighborhood.
Each day, Rooster, the Tour Manager for GoodVibes Bike Tours, would check on my progress and introduce the riders and the countries they hailed from! This image was taken by Rooster, who tagged me on Instagram! Thanks, Rooster!
Reflections on a Creative Journey
Now, as Bouldin stands proudly on the corner, his iridescent "feathers" (and surprisingly comfortable throne chair) catching the Austin sunlight, I can't help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment and gratitude. This carving wasn't just about transforming timber; it was about connecting with the history of the tree, battling the elements (and dodging subterranean metal!), and most importantly, experiencing the warmth and humor of a truly special community.
Welcome to our invitation!
Visit Bouldin at the corner of South 2nd Street. Sit in the throne chair, take a selfie, and tag #DustyGirlPeacock. It's surprisingly comfortable for something carved from a tree. As you admire this majestic creation, born from an old tree and brought to life through a challenging yet incredibly rewarding process, I invite you to ponder:
“What story will you tell?”
DustyGirl xoxo
Loved your story! It’s no only about creating a thing of beauty, but respecting it’s historic past. Dusty, you are a true artist. I wonder what people will be saying about the peacock a hundred years from now?