The weathervanes of Coronado: A project

Coronado Island sits across the Bay from downtown San Diego and is linked to the mainland by a spectacular bridge, a scenic ferry ride, and a long narrow isthmus called The Silver Strand — strictly rendering Coronado a peninsula rather than an island. Coronado is best known for the world-famous Hotel Del Coronado, an historically and architecturally significant landmark frequented by Hollywood silver-screen stars of the 1940s and 50s, and featured prominently in the Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, and Tony Curtis comedy movie ‘Some Like it Hot’.

Coronado is a ‘well heeled’ community with a surfeit of beautiful and architecturally interesting homes, such as this one in Spanish Mission Revival style, designed by the architect Richard Requa and built in 1924.

Age-old approach

A surprising number of Coronado’s homes, as I discovered, are adorned with weathervanes depicting all manner of creatures and inanimate objects. Valuable to farmers for centuries as a device for gauging wind direction, modern vanes are primarily decorative. Even so, while wind speed and direction can be easily checked on a cell phone, without stepping outside the comfort of home, this age-old analogue approach to predicting the weather retains its vestigial appeal. I suspect the personal choice of a highly visible weathervane also conveys something about the otherwise invisible inhabitants or original home builder.

The weather vanes of Coronado reflect an island not only surrounded by the Pacific Ocean and San Diego Bay but also home to a large military base hosting naval aviation and amphibious units. As an illustration, this first example displays a replica of a Lockheed S3 anti-submarine plane – a model once flown by the homeowner. Custom-designed and built, the vane was apparently kept inside the house for several years — too precious to be exposed to the elements. The second example is a replica of a biplane, probably a Boeing-Stearman Model 75, widely used as a military training aircraft in the US during the 1930s and 40s and since used in crop dusting and aerial tourism.

In at the deep end

Turning to more aquatic themes, boats are the most popular choice of ornamentation, as befits Coronado’s enthusiastic sailing community. Even so, variety and individual expression abound within this category, as illustrated by examples of yachts and schooners sporting one or more masts, a diversity of mainsails, jibs and spinnakers, and shallow hulls or deep keel blades. Although Coronado enjoys a near-perfect year-round climate, with calm seas and light breezes making for ideal sailing conditions, we do experience winter storms from the Pacific, bringing some very stiff winds. Sadly, one of the weathervanes illustrated fell victim to such a storm recently, and the ship it displayed is now missing — having presumably sailed off across the roof on an unplanned journey of its own.

Sea creatures are almost as popular, with cetaceans such as dolphins, orcas, blue whales, and sperm whales appearing most often. They can be faithful replicas of these magnificent creatures or cartoonish representations presumably meant to add some humour to the business of indicating wind direction. Occasionally, a shark makes an appearance, as well as mermaids, those mythical sea creatures who invariably seem to be offering a starfish to an unseen recipient.

Photographing Coronado’s weather vanes poses a few technical challenges stemming from their disposition: distance from the street; direction of the sun and degree of illumination; and their built-in responsiveness to the wind. As a result, at one time of day a weathervane could be backlit and edge on to the camera, whereas later in the day it could be face on and brightly illuminated. Usually, the distance from the street necessitates the use of a telephoto lens and, unless there is a conveniently located tree or car against which to brace, a tripod to go with it. Having sufficient depth of field to ensure the entirety of these three-dimensional objects remains in focus is also a consideration. Despite these challenges, Coronado’s largely cloudless, cerulean skies and the rooftop location of these objects undoubtedly help capture these images free of other distracting items in the field of view.

Flying high

Beyond denizens of the oceans and objects that float upon the ocean come the creatures that fly above the ocean. Birds in flight are an obvious subject for inclusion in this canon, and myriad herons can be observed gracefully taking flight above the rooftops. Their retracted heads and curved necks give them away as herons, as opposed to cranes or storks. Surprisingly, there seem to be no examples of the latter landing bearing a new baby in a sack held precariously in its beak. Other bird motifs include peace doves, ducks, and seagulls, but the most patriotic choice is, naturally, an eagle. As America’s national bird (since 1782, by the way), the bald eagle appears as a symbol in government, military and civilian walks of life. With talons spread ready to seize its prey or gripping a fish that it has plucked from a river or the ocean, the eagle makes for a superb weathervane.

The most well-known and popular avian weathervane is not a bird in flight, but a cockerel or rooster, giving the weathervane its other common moniker — the weathercock. In the 9th century, a pope decreed the most appropriate creature to feature on church weathervanes was the cockerel. According to the New Testament, Jesus predicted that Peter would deny him thrice before the cock crowed. With the Pope’s edict, cockerel-adorned weathervanes proliferated on churches and farms and, eventually, Coronado roofs.

The creativity of weathervane designers and owners seems to know no bounds. Depictions of all manner of other creatures are encountered routinely, including flying pigs, pawing tabby cats, and witches on broomsticks. I also found more prosaic ornamentation, including inanimate armillary spheres, bows and arrows, crescent moons, and finials – the latter serving a dual purpose as a lightning rod.

I am still on the hunt for more examples, as I criss-cross the island on foot or bike, camera slung around neck, and tripod in backpack. I estimate the final tally will be between forty and fifty of these fascinating fusions of archaic technology and extravagant house decoration. Most of us walk around looking where we are going or staring at a cellphone and miss out on these rooftop works-of-art all around us. I hope the examples I have shared here will encourage us to lift our eyes to the sky more often!

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