Witnessing birds bring nesting materials into their new houses and watching them raise their families is one of the most rewarding experiences of enjoying the outside. Sid Cox, woodworker and owner of Barn on the Bayou, handcrafts birdhouses befitting God’s small, winged creatures, transforming aged cypress planks into small churches – from the generic to familiar sacred landmarks.

Fifteen years ago, the newly-retired engineer built a large barn along the bayou in Breaux Bridge, intended as a place to work on cars like his first-generation Mustangs. Plans soon changed after Cox made a bench for his grandson. The Jonesville native, who learned woodworking at age five from his carpenter father, says, “That feeling of making something that he’d have for a long time inspired me to continue.”  

Now the 40-foot-tall cypress barn serves as a woodshop where Cox happily retreats each day, from his Lafayette home, to create items like charcuterie boards, lazy Susans, wooden tables, crosses and his popular birdhouses, an idea spurred by a gift given to him and his wife.  

“We had a bed and breakfast and a lady who became a long-term tenant,” he recalls. “When she left, she gifted us a birdhouse. It touched me so much that I decided to start making some.” Cox says making the birdhouses not only fulfills a need to create but provides the opportunity to share the history of the wood.

“It’s so satisfying when people walk out staring at the thing they bought,” he shares, “knowing the story of the wood – like the square hole made by the peg nail that came from the bell tower at St. Martin de Porres Church dating back to 1750, before the existence of Cajuns. I once got some wood from an old potato bend. Much of this is virgin-cut wood from 200 to 300-year-old trees taken from the Atchafalaya Basin.” On the upper floor of the barn are stacks of cypress planks from an 1890s home of a friend’s grandfather, salvaged before it was disassembled. (Cox doesn’t like to use the word demolish.) 

With high regard for wood, a sentiment taught to him by his father, Cox does as little as possible to manipulate the grains. Seldom planing the planks, he says, “You get one opportunity with a piece of 300-year-old sunken cypress, and using a planer is a once and done thing. You have to take it easy and not get aggressive. It’s about patience and letting the wood tell the story.” Cox brushes the cypress off slightly or uses a rotary brush to lightly clean it up. Using a paint brush, he flat brushes, skimming across the high grain for an antique look – and he doesn’t seal. “The wood has been around for centuries,” he explains, “and the natural oil in it will preserve it. I want the wood to tell the story. The point is to let the elements work the wood.” Tin from bygone buildings is cut and bent to the shape of the little church roofs, which are topped with a cross made from old cypress fence boards or antique peg nails.

The result is an artistic creation and a weather-resistant home that will withstand the elements and welcome birds and their offspring year after year.

Built mainly to attract bluebirds, (Cox’s favorite) the houses are a combination of folk art and architectural ingenuity. When building special orders, like the replicas he’s done of St. Barnard and Sacred Heart churches, Cox works from a photo, painstakingly getting the proportions just right. Small generic churches, 5” x 8” x 12,” take about two hours, while the larger, more detailed versions can take upwards of 15 hours.

After making over 100 birdhouses, there’s a ritual Cox still follows: “When I finish one, I bring it home and give it honor before it moves on,” he says. “The birdhouses are like my children, after spending hours upon hours creating them.” 

The same homage is given to his uniquely-handcrafted wooden and metal crosses. Made from a base of cypress or old beaded pine ceiling, they’re hand rubbed with leather then waxed and buffed for a soft finish. The center features another cross of two cast-iron spikes, four to six inches long, welded together with wire. “The idea was inspired by a rosary my wife made,” says Cox, who frequently looks to her for input in creating new ideas. “Jill is my sounding board and has helped me to refine my efforts to something very rewarding.”

For Cox, making his birdhouses and crosses is a spiritual experience and he blesses his barn before he leaves each afternoon. “It’s a way I can connect with my father.”

You can find Cox’s crosses and birdhouses on

Etsy at BarnontheBayou and at Trove & Co. in Breaux Bridge.■