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Jackie Howe was a sensational sheep shearer who once shaved 321 shaggy sheep in a single day – a spectacular world record that shall never be shattered.

Try saying that three times fast!

But Jackie might’ve had a slight advantage, if these cutting implements are anything to go by. The Big Shears are an exact replica of the ones Jackie used to set his records, and are about three-metres from blunt bit to pointy bit.

Geez, you could even shear The Big Merino with those things!

This razor-sharp Biggie can be found – quite appropriately – in the middle of Jackie Howe Park, on the northern outskirts of Warwick, Queensland. Standing resplendent atop a pile of wool bales, this is a well-made, lovingly-maintained monument that deftly combines rural sensibilities with art deco sophistication.

The Big Shears were unveiled to a curious public on January 29, 1983, by knockabout local pollie J.A. Elliott. The name of the person – or persons – who built this Big, however, has been lost to the ravages of time. The shear audacity of that!

Geddit? Shear audacity! Anyway, moving on.

For most, a visit to The Big Shears elicits feelings of joy and wonder. For Biggles Jane Fonda Bardot, however, a trip through Warwick stirs up horrible memories…

One warm day in 1986, on a backroad somewhere between Toowoomba and Stanthorpe…

…Bigella and myself were rolling along in the Bigsmobile, the dulcet tones of Sandi Peanut Butter and the Peanut Butter Conspiracy flowing from the speakers and disappearing into the hills like psychedelic bumble bees.

The summer of love may have given way to the decade of decadence, but we didn’t get the memo.

Wearing a crown of flowers, Bigella smiled as I dodged a kangaroo, then lovingly ran her fingers through my cherry-red locks, which cascaded down my back like a fiery waterfall.

“My hair is everything to me,” I blustered, plucking a crimson curl from my face. “My entire identity, and sense of self-worth, are defined by it.”
“You should shave it off,” Bigella grinned, and I almost ran off the road.

The very thought of a haircut horrified me, but I was painfully aware of Bigella’s brief, yet apparently quite profound, dalliance with charismatic Rose Tattoo frontman Angry Anderson – a bald man.

“Okay, babycakes,” I gulped, fearing a refusal would push Bigella back into Angry’s arms. “I guess you can trim a little off the sides.”
“Relax, honeybun,” she purred. “If you don’t like it, your hair will grow back in a few weeks.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Turn off her up here – there’s a giant set of shears in Warwick that will do the job.”

“A giant set of… shears?” I asked, shaking my shaggy head in confusion.
“Yeah, shears,” Bigella replied. “They’re one of Australia’s many Big Things.”

“Big… what?”
“Big Things. It’s a collection of delightfully kitschy roadside attractions celebrating local industries, animals or fruits. You’ll love ’em. And don’t worry, if you don’t like your new haircut…”
“I know, I know,” I gulped. “It’ll grow back.”

One warm day in 2026, beside a road heading north out of Warwick…

“My hair didn’t grow back, did it?” I sighed, taking Bigella’s hand as we walked around the Big Shears’ plinth for the first time in four decades.
“Nooo, it didn’t,” she smiled. “But look on the bright side – coming here introduced you to the concept of Big Things.”
“And now I’m one of the most respected Big Things historians in the southern hemisphere.”

“No, Bigs,” my paramour announced dramatically. “You’re more than that. You’re the King of the Bigs.”

She was right. I may have lost my ruby ringlets, but I’d found something greater – a love for novelty roadside attractions. Don’t tell the guys from Ashley & Martin, or they’ll be out of a job – teehee!

“It’s getting late,” Bigella purred, caressing my chrome dome. “Let’s get back to the motel, Angry.”
“Angry!?” I spluttered.
“I mean, uh, Bigs.”

Droving out of Warwick and into the sunset, we both watched The Big Shears fading away in the rear-view mirror. Hopefully it wouldn’t be another 40 years before we returned.

“You don’t mind if I play something on the radio, do you?” asked Bigella.
“Invasion of the Poppy People?” I cooed. “Captain Sandwich? Shirley Can You Come Out and Play?”
“I was thinking… Bad Boy For Love.”

Oh well, joke’s on her – I’m secretly attracted to Angry Anderson, too!

You’ll never tyre of this swan! Head to Southport’s Musgrave Park and there, in the middle of a peaceful pond, you’ll find the elegant Big Tyre Swan.

Local artists Simon Laws and Donna Marcus created this delightful attraction back in 2007. They took a three-tonne steel belted tyre, slice it up, turned it outside-in, made it look more or less like a long-necked, web-footed water bird, then slathered it in reflective road marking paint.

The artists were inspired by that fondly-remembered piece of Australiana, the humble (and normally quite petite) tyre swan. These home-made gems once adorned front yards across the country but are now, sadly, almost extinct.

Although after reading this, I bet you’re thinking of pinching the tyres off your neighbour’s Daewoo and making one – aren’t ya?

Hans Christian Andersen’s beloved tale The Ugly Duckling also influenced Simon and Donna, whilst Michelangelo (the sculptor, not the pizza-guzzling Ninja Turtle) inspired this Big Thing’s ever-so-slightly pompous official title of I Saw the Angel in the Marble and I Carved to Set Him Free.

I think we’ll stick with The Big Tyre Swan!

And I think to myself, what a SWAN-derful world!

Once completed, the sculpture was the subject of fierce bidding betwixt the hoity-toity of the fine arts community. A fellow named Pat Corrigan ultimately bought her, then donated the Swan to the good people of the Gold Coast.

In 2009, The Big Tyre Swan finally found her forever home in a quiet corner of Musgrave Park, floating on tranquil pond, surrounded by emerald lilies. That means taking a photo with The Swan is a little tricky, but it’s worth it. There could not be a more appropriate place for this Big to live, and standing on the shore watching her is a moving – some might even say life-affirming – experience.

Best of all, the Swan lives right next to the off-leash dog area. So now it’s possible to take your best friend for a run and admire an oversized roadside attraction, all in one place.

As I was swanning around for these photos, I bumped into a plucky little pekingese named Newman. A fixture of the Southport canine scene and self-confessed Big Things tragic, Newman begged me to give him a shout-out. So hi, Newman!

After admiring The Swan, duck over to see the Goldie’s other roadside attractions, such as Maddie & Mike, Dream Rider, Geckomania!, Blue Perspective, The Big Wheelie Bin, Katey Seagull, Ring-O, Bigfoot and Kangaroo Kat. Forget Dreamworld and Melba’s – everyone’s heading to the GC for the BIGS!

Splendidly kitsch and quite unlike any other Big, The Tyre Swan offers a touch of old-fashioned comfort amongst the glitz and glamour of the Gold Coast.

You’d be a silly old goose not to visit!

Visiting teams must love playing against the mighty Miriam Vale Magpies – because it gives them a chance to check out Owe’e, an enormous maggie who guards their home ground of Gary Larson Oval.

Of course, it must be hard for the players to focus on the ball when there’s a 170cm-tall bird statue watching their every move!

He’s now a beloved member of the local rugby league community, but Owe’e originally represented another footy team. The legends from Natureworks built the bird statue in 1979 as the mascot for Brisbane’s Southern Suburbs Magpies, with his striking posed based on the team’s iconic logo.

From here, things get a bit murky, but the magpie apparently spent time perched atop Souths’ president Tony Testa’s pharmacy in Acacia Ridge. Come for the big ol’ black-‘n’-white bird on the roof, stay for the fantastic deals on Gaviscon!

Despite its popularity with those passing by the chemist, the magpie disappeared in the late ’80s. But where did he go after that? Reach out to me if you know!

But a bird this big couldn’t stay hidden for long. The magnificent magpie fluttered north in 2012, destined to become the centrepiece of Miriam Vale’s brand-spankin’-new $300,000 sport complex.

Dave Halloran restored the statue, added the intricate metal nest, and popped him on the roof of the club house.

“It will stand as a guide and an inspiration which will shine brightly for the future endeavours of both junior and senior sports people in the Miriam Vale Shire and its surrounds for many years to come,” Dave cheered.

So next time you’re travelling through Miriam Vale, stop by for a footy game, a sausage sanga and a photo with a Big Thing. What could be better than that?

Photos: Natureworks

He’s my Big Magpie
Up on the rooftop, such a sweet surprise
Looks so good, make a grown man cry
Owe’e the Big Magpie!

Outside game days, the oval is very quiet, allowing visitors to admire Owe’e without other tourists swooping in. Sadly, it’s not possible to climb onto the roof to get up close and personal with him. Admiring Owe’e from the ground is lovely, but it’s hard to fully appreciate his size from down there.

Miriam Vale’s Big Crab lives on the roof of the local servo, so maybe that’s just how they do things around there?

“Wearing a Canberra Raiders football tunic at Gary Larson Oval was a bold move, Bigs,” squeaked Bigella, as we approached Owe’e with Little Peter Poppins. “Gary was a member of the North Sydney Bears team that was humbled 22-9 by the Raiders in the preliminary final of the 1994 Winfield Cup. Gary – following a moment of madness – was sent from the field for a spear tackle. The good people of Miriam Vale were devastated.”
“Yeah, Bigs, you’ll be lucky if the local footy players don’t run you out of town,” Peter piped up. “They worship the ground Gary walks on.”

There was, however, a method to my madness.

“Owe’e represented the Souths Magpies during the halcyon days of the early-80s, when they counted amongst their ranks Gary Belcher and ‘Big’ Mal Meninga,” I lectured. “Those two gentlemen went on to represent the Green Machine with aplomb – so, uh, I’m just wearing the jersey as a sign of respect to The Big Magpie.”

“I get it, Bigs,” yearned Bigella, “but there’s no point poking the bear.”
“Or, in this case, messing with the Maggies,” added Peter.

“You’re both right – let’s flap our wings and get out of here!” I agreed, bustling them into the Bigsmobile. “Next stop, Sarina. There’s a giant cane toad there – hand me my NSW Blues jersey!”

Goin’ down to Goomeri? Then you’ve gotta see The Giant Greenstone Pumpkin! The 550kg vegetable dominates the town’s main street and, as you can see, is drop dead gourd-geous!

The Goomeri Goliath sits atop a vibrant mosaic plinth in Market Square, and makes for a fantastic photo op. Look how happy the Bardot Bunch are in these photos, we’re grinning like a bunch of jack-o’-lanterns!

Whilst The Big Pumpkin has become a Queensland icon, its story starts in Indonesia of all places. An adventurous trader – his name long since lost to the sands of time – was travelling through the jungles of Sumatra when he came across the intricately-carved stone pumpkin in a dusty corner of a timeworn bazaar.

With dollar signs dancing in his eyes, the trader purchased the pumpkin and shipped it off to Brisbane, but was unable to find a buyer.

Come on, Queenslanders, who wouldn’t want an enormous south-east Asian pumpkin sitting in their backyard?

The trader then offered it to the Goomeri Pumpkin Festival committee – for a price that made their eyes water. The stone pumpkin was destined, it seemed, to remain in storage forever.

And then Phyllis Hopf stepped in. She paid for the pumpkin, then donated it to the town. She then put her hand back in her pocket to pay for its installation.

Volunteers built the concrete plinth, which was lovingly decorated by Heather May from Amayz Mosaics over a period of 10 weeks.

Gympie Mayor Mick Curran unveiled the statue in March, 2020, and it quickly became one of the Sunshine State’s top tourist destinations. Move over, Big Pineapple, there’s a new pump-king in town!

And then I go and spoil it all by saying pumpkin’ stupid like, “I love you”

Yoohoo, only me! The one and only Gordon Shumway! Yes, I know you were expecting the honeysuckle words of Bigs Bardot, but you’ll just have to settle for the ramblings of his tiny alien sidekick. And there’s a very good reason for that.

This, my friends, is the story of how I asked the love of my life – the divine Miss Gordina – to be my wife.

The Bardot Bunch, consisting of Bigs, Bigella, Little Peter Poppins, Gordina and myself, were enjoying a road trip through the rolling hills of rural Queensland during the dying days of summer. As we admired Seagulls, Bunyips, Gingerbread Men and Oranges, I felt something gnawing away at me. Initially assuming it was botulism from a dodgy servo pie, I soon realised it was something more profound.

The haunting cries of conjugal life had become a cacophony.

Racking my brain to think of the perfect place to ask for Gordina’s hairy hand in holy matrimony, I settled on the most romantic place on earth – the car park out the front of Matilda the Kangaroo.

“You can’t ask her there,” sighed Bigs when I told him my plan.
“Oh right,” I whimpered, “because it’s right next to a public toilet.”
“No, silly,” Bigs grinned, “because that’s where I asked Bigella to marry me! You need to make this experience your own.”

Bigs is a wise (and handsome!) man, so I heeded his advice. Then I thought of a location – The Giant Greenstone Pumpkin in Goomeri, Gordina’s home town. It was there that, by the silvery light of a crescent moon, we’d shared our first kiss in 2023. Since then we’d supported each other through the highest of highs, the lowest of lows, and my out-of-control Metamucil addiction.

And so, after taking our photos with The Pumpkin, the rest of the gang melted into the background, leaving my love and I alone atop the Giant Pumpkin. I took Gordina’s hand, looked into her eyes, and said the words I’d dreamed of saying for so long.

“Gordina,” I uttered as tears cascaded down my cheeks. “Will you Goo-marry me?”

Everytime I visit Big Vegetables it makes me think of you

The Giant Greenstone Pumpkin may be the #1 tourist attraction in Queensland, but it’s not the state’s only cultivated winter squash – there’s another pretty big one up in Gumlu. And that one’s sitting right next to a Big Watermelon – wowzers!

Queensland is also home to the world-famous Big Strawberry in Elimbah, Big Mandarin in Mundubbera, and a super-sized slice of Melon in Chinchilla – what a slice thing to visit! Then there’s The Big Apple in Thulimbah and another Big Apple in Brissie but, ah, you might want to watch out for the locals. 

Head further north and you’ll find Bowen’s Big Mango, along with a slightly smaller replica just down the road. There’s also a Big Banana in Mackay, Big Orange in the Lockyer Valley, and yet another Big Pumpkin in Kooralbyn. But they don’t appear on Land of the Bigs (yet!) so you’ll just have to look them up on our world-famous Ultimate Aussie Big Things Map.

Queensland, hey? Fruit-iful one day, perfect the next!

When life gives you lemons, use it as inspiration to build a Big Lemon! That’s exactly what the good people of Lemon Grove, California, did way back in 1928.

Yes, you read that correctly – nineteen-hundred-and-twenty-eight – meaning this bright-yellow icon is almost a century old! You wouldn’t think so, though, because The Giant Lemon looks as zesty as the day it was built.

Just look how happy the Bardot Bunch are in this photo. Ironically, perhaps, there’s not a sour face to be seen!

Back then Lemon Grove was a thriving farming community, and the local chamber of commerce wanted to let everyone know they had the best lemons around. The best way to do this, they decided, was to construct a lemon of enormous proportions and march it through the streets of San Diego during the Fourth of July parade.

Architect Alberto Treganza stepped up to design the float. But first he needed the perfect specimen to base the lemon off. He invited local farmers to submit their loveliest lemons, then picked a particularly plump ponderosa for his passion project.

It was a bit like American Idol, but for lemons.

Local ranchers helped out with the construction of the lemon, which was made from chicken wire, bits of wood, plaster, paint – and plenty of love. Weighing an astonishing 3000lb, it was plonked on the back of a Model-T Ford and decorated with a sign reading ‘Best Climate on Earth’ – the town’s not-so-humble motto.

On July 4th, 1928, the good folk celebrated not only the birth of the USA, but the arrival of The Big Lemon. Sitting proudly atop the float was Amorita Treganza, daughter of Alberto and the first-ever Miss Lemon Grove.

I bet Amorita – and The Big Lemon – looked absolutely fruit-iful that day.

You’re simply the zest, bigger than all the rest

The Big Lemon became a fixture of San Diego’s festival circuit, appearing in a quintet of July 4th fiestas. The yella fella proved to be so popular that, in 1932, local businessman Tony Sonka decided it should be enjoyed the other 364 days a year, too.

There were a few naysayers, but Tony told them to go suck lemons, and pushed forward with his plans. He had the sculpture plastered, then placed it on a plinth outside his general store in downtown Lemon Grove.

And there The Big Lemon has sat, more or less, for the past 90-odd years. The city shifted the monument a few feet in 1984 to accommodate the nearby trolley tracks. Volunteers have touched up the lettering a few times. But little else has changed. The Lemon is a nostalgic squeeze of the past, wedged in between the traffic and taquerias of modern-day Lemon Grove.

“The Big Lemon of Lemon Grove is a landmark in the center of town,” ruminated Laura Hook, president of the Lemon Grove Historical Society. “Its presence isn’t just ornamental; it anchors the town’s identity and history in one bold, citrusy shape.”

May this fruity fellow stand for another 100 years – or even into the next mil-lemon-ium!

The Good, the Bad and the Citrusy

Bigella, Little Peter Poppins and moi – the inimitable Bigs Bardot! – were able to squeeze in a visit to The Big Lemon during a recent BIG road trip across the United States.

Ample nearby parking gave us easy access to the monument. The Lemon is in a fairly busy spot, but we had no problem taking photos. As we did, one passerby gave us a big thumbs-up and wailed “Geez, Bigs, you could make a lot of lemonade from that one!”

We’ve been to plenty of delicious roadside attractions across California – from Randy’s Donut to The Big Sundae, and even Sir Wafflelot right here in SD. But none are as mouth-puckeringly tasty as The Big Lemon.

“You know, Bigs,” Peter chirped wistfully as we headed home. “I’ve had the lime of my life today.”
“Oh Peter!” I gaffawed. “Your ribald sense of humour proves the lemon doesn’t fall far from the tree!

Mundubbera claims to be ‘the citrus capital of Queensland’, and what better way to prove that than by building a Big Mandarin? The orange wonder measures nine metres from dimpled bottom to leafy crown, and can be found in front of the aptly-named Big Mandarin Caravan Park.

And oh-my-lordy, he’s Mandarin-credible!

The Big Mandarin looms large over the tiny town, and is a really cool, old-skool Big. Yes, it’s seen better days. Yes, Mundubbera’s a bit out of the way, and far from the tourist trail. But this roadside attraction is well worth the detour.

Peel back The Big Mandarin’s history and you’ll find a juicy tale. Enterprising locals Graham and Elaine Mergard came up with the idea for The Big Mandarin in 1980, as a way of promoting their holiday park, then known as the Citrus Country Village.

They contacted the talented Neville Roger, who built the mandarin in 10 sections from his workshop in Brisbane, and delivered it to Munduburra aboard a conga-line of semi-trailers. It was then painstakingly welded together on-site.

Sounds like thirsty work – good thing Nev and his mates had plenty of mandarin juice on hand!

Queensland Minister for Tourism, Tony Elliott, officially opened the site on May 23, 1983 – and every man-darin, woman and child turned up!

The Mundubbera Marvel

The Big Mandarin originally housed a tourist information centre offering a selection of souvenirs but, sadly, it was shuttered long ago. The front door was locked when Gordon and I arrived, so we weren’t able to see inside the structure.

“Maybe we should Manda-ring the doorbell,” Gordon chortled.
“Yes, maybe someone is waiting Manadar-inside,” I tittered.

Despite this disappointment, we found the caravan park‘s cabins clean and well-priced, so I highly recommend staying in one the next time you’re travelling through the North Burnett Region.

But here’s an idea for the owners – why not convert the Mandarin into a cottage, allowing Big-thusiasts to spend the night inside it?

These days the caravan park is mainly inhabited by fruit pickers from the region’s many citrus farms. Apparently it’s not unusual to see a couple of bleary-eyed Filipinos, the smell of Red Horse heavy on their breath, attempting to pick The Big Mandarin at six in the morning.

And that gave me an idea.

“Gordon, I have a cunning plan,” I gasped. “If we become fruit pickers, we could live here and admire The Big Mandarin every day. Maybe even fall in love with a couple of German backpackers.”
“That’s an adorable idea Bigs,” Gordon sighed, “but you remember what happened the last time we became fruit pickers and fell in love with a couple of German backpackers.”
“Helga and Gertrüd,” I sniffed, trying to mask the hurt in my voice.
“Yes,” Gordon whispered, a single tear cutting a silvery path down his furred cheek. “Helga and Gertrüd.”

Fruit, Glorious Fruit!

The good folk of Mundubbera have a healthy rivalry with the residents of the nearby town of Gayndah. Both villages claim to be the centre of the citrus universe, but there’s something BIGGER to this conflict.

Gaynda, which is just 30 minutes down the road, is home to the beloved Big Orange, which rivals the Mandarin in size and, erm, orange-ness.

But these are far from the only flippin’-yoooooj fruits in the (Queens)Land of the Bigs. There’s the world-famous Big Pineapple in Woombye, The Big Strawberry in Elimbah, and The Big Apple in Thulimbah.

Visiting Brissie? There’s another Big Apple there but, ah, you might want to watch out for the locals.

There’s also The Giant Greenstone Pumpkin in Goomeri and a super-sized slice of Melon in Chinchilla – what a slice thing to visit!

Head further north and you’ll also find Bowen’s Big Mango, and Gumlu’s Big Watermelon and Big Pumpkin.

Queensland, hey? Fruit-iful one day, perfect the next!

Where’s Wally the Wren? He’s in the Yiiro Community Garden in Euroa, Victoria! This fantastic fairy wren was built by the metal maestros from Tank & Tobin, and installed in July 2022.

With his vibrant blue plumage, irresistible eyelashes and chubby little tum-tum, Wally is big on personality – if not on size. At around 150cm from golden claws to the tip of his tail, he’s a fraction the height of Euroa’s famous Big Magpie. But that is a good thing.

It means Wally is one of the most approachable Bigs you’ll find. He’s the perfect size for a cuddle and a kiss – or a photo. The individually-crafted feathers give him a sense of realism and gravitas, whilst maintaining a kind of cartoonish charm. Yes, bird fanciers, Wally really is wren-markable!

The community garden is a peaceful oasis amidst the hustle and bustle of downtown Euroa. Wally stands beside a fellow Tank & Tobin masterpiece – a lone metal sunflower. Several murals by proud indigenous artist Aimee McCartney are also worth checking out.

Feeling hungry after a day hunting down Big Things? Then you’re in luck! Fresh herbs and seasonal vegetables spring forth from the garden’s verdant soil, and visitors are welcome to snatch up a handful.

Whilst Bigella plucked parsley and parsnips, I collected carrots and coriander. How wholesome! Now whenever we cook a hearty soup, it transports us back to that warm spring day when we foraged for food in the shadows of a fairly large fairy wren.

The word Yiiro means ‘joyful place’ in the local Taungurung language. I can’t think of a more appropriate name for this happy little corner of Victoria. When you stand with Wally the Wren – one of the cheekiest, chirpiest Bigs you could ever hope to meet – it’s wren-possible to wipe the smile off your face!

Victoria has a six-metre-tall Ned Kelly in Glenrowan. Queensland has a seven-metre-tall Ned Kelly in Maryborough. And now New South Wales has jumped in on the action, because the hamlet of Telegraph Point is home to Australia’s newest Ned – who stands a slightly-less-impressive two metres from boots to bucket.

Such is life, eh, short kings?

The (Not So) Big Ned Kelly stands outside the (former) headquarters of Rampage Marine and Fabrication, pointing his pistols at traffic on Pembrooke Road. I wasn’t aware that Ned had ties to the Mid North Coast, but maybe he swung by for an expertly-welded trailer or a new fishing boat.

Ned looks like he started life as a letterbox but, sadly, he hasn’t had any mail for a while.

When the Rampage team moved up to Queensland in 2025, they left poor ol’ Ned behind. Surely they could’ve fabricated some friends for him before the rode off into the sunset? At this rate, we might have to call him Neddy No-Mates!

The (Aesthetic-Maxxing) Big Ned Kelly

What he lacks in height, this version of Australia’s favourite murderer makes up for in rugged good looks and outlaw swagger. Check out his rusty, yet perfectly-cylindrical helmet.

And that handbag is so this season! The roguish red pops against the brown armour, perfectly encapsulating Ned’s fun, fashionable and – dare I say it – feminine side. Ooh-la-la!

Gordon and myself are widely regarded as the bad boys of Big Things, so we hopped aboard our scooterette and rode out to meet our fellow renegade.

We found The (Not So) Big Ned Kelly to be easy to take a photo with and surprisingly larger than we’d anticipated.

“Bigs, do you think we’d fit in with the Kelly Gang?” Gordon asked as we rode away.
“Gordon,” I sighed, “between your lactose intolerance and my pacifist outlook, we’d be lucky to get a start in the Martin Kelly Gang.”
“You mean the affable father from popular 80s sitcom Hey Dad..!?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” sighed Gordon. “I think it’s best we stay very, very far away from them!”

Eagle-eyed visitors to Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary will spot something very special indeed – Dream Rider, a wedge-tail measuring 12 metres from wingtip to wingtip and fashioned from THIRTY recycled surfboards.

Talon-ted local artist Mick Brown spent six months piecing together the 400kg colossus. His hard work paid off when Dream Rider took out the people’s choice award at the 2025 SWELL Sculpture Festival.

The Sanctuary then swooped in to buy the sculpture for just $15,000, and installed it – quite fittingly – at the entrance to the WildSkies Bird Show.

“You couldn’t describe a better backdrop for a sculpture like this,” Mick told a scribe from the Gold Coast Bulletin. “I’ve had sculptures installed in other states, so to have Dream Rider local is a real bonus.”

Mick says the enormous eagle is a commentary on ‘the impact of consumerism on the natural world, and carries a hopeful message of connection, respect and care for the planet, habitat and wildlife’.

Bird fanciers, not surprisingly, have flocked to the park since Dream Rider arrived.

“From the minute we saw the Dream Rider statue and the sustainability message, we knew that it just had to come home here,” Wendy Welch, the park’s animal training manager, squawked. “It fits in so perfectly with our messaging of connection and conservation.”

More importantly, Dream Rider looks really cool! From outstretched wings to piercing eyes, forever be scanning the horizon for prey, this is an extraordinary work of art.

And how about those surfboard feathers! This is the finest use of recycled materials I’ve seen, and the sculpture brings together air, sea and bushland beautifully.

Even better, Bigella and moi were able to seek refuge beneath his wings to escape a passing squall. Oh well, any hawk in a storm – teehee!

There’s no doubt about it, this eagle rocks!

Prepare to be swept off your feet by this 40ft-tall dustpan and brush! Big Sweep brooms large over the Denver Art Museum’s quirky Frederic C. Hamilton Building, and was installed in 2006 in an attempt to tidy up the city.

Colourful and camp, Big Sweep offers a bizarre, even confronting, commentary on the banality of suburban life. With its eerily-realistic bristles and paper, one initially feels tiny in comparison. The crushing weight of domestic responsibility, it seems, has become too much to bear.

Stand beneath this huge utensil for a time, however, and the message transforms into one of hope. No matter how messy life becomes, our dreams shall always be large enough to clean up the calamity.

Failing that, just do what I did and pay an undocumented immigrant to clear away your clutter. Gracias, Maria!

Crafted by Land of the Bigs regulars Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen – who were on target with Cupid’s Span – Big Sweep was, apparently, inspired by the vast prairies and mountains of Colorado.

Although I’d argue it was inspired by the vast piles of garbage left by the hobos who inhabit the area. To avoid a brush with these miscreants, mop by to see Big Sweep during daylight hours.

The street urchins have little respect for this kitschy slice of Americana. Perhaps if they cleaned up their act, studying the history of the nation’s roadside attractions – such as Scottish Angus Cow and Calf, which can be found at the other end of the art museum – rather than huffing painkillers out of discarded shoes, they’d have houses of their own to keep neat and tidy.

Now, please excuse me. Maria’s just whipped up some chilaquiles with her homemade salsa verde, and when I finish them I’ll have to make sure she scrubs the toilet properly. Honestly, a woman’s work is never done!

Ewww, who farted? It must’ve been Squirt the Skunk, but we’ll forgive him because he’s just soooo dang cute!

Chubby and cheerful, Squirt’s been stinkin’ up the Beseiker Municipal Campground since 1992. Clutching a bouquet of flowers in a futile attempt to mask his acrid stench, this bucktoothed beauty demands that visitors ‘have a nice spray!’

But how did a 13-foot skunk end up in this heavenly village? Apparently the locals wanted to boost tourism, and decided a skunk was the only answer. Beseiker’s mayor, the aptly-named Warren Wise, is only too happy to explain.

“Beiseker has a fairly high skunk population, and it was almost like a bit of a joke that got taken seriously,” the Wise Guy chattered. “Then they decided on it and it sort of became the official mascot.” 

I suppose that makes scents, o Wise One!

After much public confabulation, the funds were raised to build a giant pungent varmint near the freeway. Few Beseikers will forget his coming out party, although some of the locals got a little skunk and disorderly.

Beseiker – which stands roughly halfway between Western Wayne and the World’s Largest Dinosaur – has gone berserk for Squirt, with T-shirts, caps and stickers on sale. There’s even a frighteningly-realistic Squirt costume that’s wheeled out for street parades and school fetes. My all-too-brief time within the ensemble, at the insistence of the tourism board, is something I shall never forget.

Tragically, not everyone has found room in their heart for this black-and-white delight.

“We’ve had some people in the village say, ‘Well, we shouldn’t be a skunk’, but it’s gone over pretty well, I think,” Warren Wise lamented. “It’s kind of locked in now.”

As far as I’m concerned, anyone who doesn’t love Squirt can go to smell!

Do you really want to squirt me?
Do you really want to make me cry?

As someone confined to the fringes of society due to my divisive peccadilloes, I was immediately drawn to Squirt. He’s a loner, too, cast asunder due to his unfortunate body odour and controversial political opinions.

Like myself, Squirt just wants to fit in, just wants to be loved. He wears a cherubic grin as he glances hopefully at the passing strangers, but inside his stout trunk churns an emotional tsunami that threatens to consume everything before him.

Still, Squirt stands there. Hopeful. Stoic. Clutching his garland of posies, forever hoping the world will look past his poor personal hygiene to see the kind, thoughtful skunk underneath. 

Trust me, it’s not easy being the smelly kid.

In a sign of solidarity with my bosom friend, I befouled my trousers on that warm spring afternoon. You might call me a hero, but I’m mortal like the rest of you. I’d do anything to ensure that a Big Thing doesn’t know one moment of sadness.

Obviously pleased with my act of selflessness, I was mincing about for the cameras when a disgruntled maintenance worker stormed over. From a safe distance, he started to grill me.

“Bigs,” he spluttered, tears of emotion pouring from his eyes. “Did you defecate in your pants or somethin’, eh?”

Overripe with panic, I blamed Squirt for the spicy fragrance hanging heavy in the crisp Alberta air. The janitor, however, was not convinced.

“You know Squirt is made from fiberglass, eh?” he managed to spit out between gags, before turning the hose on me.

Why won’t people just give me a chance?

The Big Milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
And I’m like, it’s bigger than yours
Dang right, it’s bigger than yours
Can’t drink it, ‘cos it’s just too large

There’s no use crying over spilt milkshake, because this dairly-loved Big Thing is a real cream-boat! O Milkshake Grande lives in front of the Damay Cafe in the seaside resort town of Piçarras, and is just begging for a curdle. If you’d like to choc him out, you won’t want to skim read this entry!

He’s tucked away behind some sort of Roman pillar, slow down or he’ll zip pasteurise in a second. Fortunately The Big Milkshake won’t be going anywhere soon. He can’t exactly walk away, because milkshakes lactose.

The cafe he promotes offers a delicioso range of bolos, lanches e burguers. Muito bom! Oh, desculpe… I mean, sorry. Seems I slipped back into days as a big, bad Brazilian beach boy. I went by the name of Rodrigo and spent my days selling caipirinhas on the streets and my nights learning the forbidden dance known as Forró.

I was even able to convince one of the baristas, Bruna, to pose for a photo with me. Unfortunately, due to the language barrier she believed this to be a marriage proposal. My efforts to explain that I had eyes only for the Milkshake fell on deaf ears.

As members of her family descended upon the cafe with dowries of sheep and other livestock, I pretended to see soccer star Pele drinking in a bar across the road, and and escaped as the family raced over to mob him. I hope the experience didn’t sour Bruna on milk-based products for life.

Don’t be leite, visit the Big Milkshake today!

Dashing out of the frying pan and into our hearts, please receber the wacky and charismatic Massive Portuguese Cuttlefish! Or Choco Frigideira, to give him his formal name. The stunning seaside citadel of Setubal is synonymous with choco frito – that’s fried cuttlefish to you and I – and this mesmerising mollusc is the most scrumptious item on the menu.

Choco’s just so much fun and happy to have his photo taken. He’s very affectionate, and really more of a cuddlefish.

Whilst Choco is certainly unique, he’s not one-of-a-kind. There are two versions at either end town, showcasing his monumental range of emotions. The frantic pan-escaper lives on the western fringe of Setubal, near the Arrábida beaches. The seated, paranoid version – Choco Pessoa – is waiting for you a few kilometres east.

Poor ol’ Choco has reason to be afraid, though, because the locals spend the majority of their time guzzling cuttlefish. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t see some little Portuguese men trying to lick his paint off.

Both Chocos were created by artista Zé Nova, and inspired by an art installation at Café A Brasileira in Lisbon. That one features a man who, despite being handsome, is not a cuttlefish. So who cares about it?

What about the choco frito, which is available at every restaurant in Setubal? I indulged in this savoury treat numerous time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Paired with a plate of batata frita, a cheeky glass of Vinho Verde and some sprightly conversation, it makes for a wonderful evening. I did have to lower my eyes each time I walked past Choco, though!

This cuttle may not be subtle, but. Ready, Setubal, go!

Australia is famous for its hundreds of Big Things and roadside attractions, but you won’t find any as un-beak-lievable as these! From the Big Pelican to the Big Penguin, if it squawks it’s in here!

Chinute Chinute the Big Owl, Darwin, Northern Territory

Without feather ado, I’d like to in-duck-t this oversized owl – and I’m talon you, be prepared to fowl in love! Say hello to Chinute Chinute, who’s so nice they named her twice! She’s 1.8 metres tall, lives in front of the Northern Territory Supreme Court, and is a real hoot to hang out with!

Read all about Chinute Chinute!

Stanley the Emu, Lightning Ridge, New South Wales

Everybody’s heard about this bird, which isn’t surprising because Stanley’s 18 metres tall and one of the nest-looking Big Things around. Yes, he’s aviary nice chap indeed!

The elegant emu was lovingly crafted by local artist John Murray out of old VW Beetle bonnets and doors. This gem took up residence on the outskirts of the opal-mining village of Lightning Ridge in 2013, but he was o-Ridge-inally destined, quite appropriately, for Birdsville.

Find out feather Stanley’s worth visiting!

The Big Kookaburra, Kurri Kurri, New South Wales

You need to ‘Kurri’ along and see this winged wonder, and that’s no laughing matter!

The king-sized kingfisher landed in 2009, stands a regal 4.5-metres tall, and was built to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the nearby Hydro Aluminium smelter. As you can see from the photos, he’s absolutely beautiful, and local artist Chris Fussel obviously put a lot of love and care into his work.

Flock over here for the full story!

Pete the Big Pelican, Noosaville, Queensland

Next time you spread your wings and visit the Big hotspot of the Sunshine Coast, make a splash landing in the seaside resort town of Noosaville, home of the Big Pelican! The overgrown chicken – known to his legion of admirers as Pete – boasts an un-beak-lievable backstory – after all, how many other Big Things have spent time at the bottom of the ocean?

Why did Pete spend time submerged in the sea? Find out here!

The Big Chook, Mount Vernon, New South Wales

What’s chookin’, good lookin’? This king-sized cockerel is worth crowing about, and you’ll have egg on your face if you don’t chick him out! It’s not possible to cuddle the ravishing rooster because he’s behind a chicken-wire fence, but he’s available a happy snap. Just look at the two of us strutting around together, we really are poultry in motion!

Cluck right here to read more about the Big Chook!

The Big Penguin, Penguin, Tasmania

This 3.15m-tall Taswegian is very cool indeed, and represents everything good and wondrous about Australia’s Big Things. He’s beautifully crafted, represents his region well, and demands to have his photo taken. Visitors can’t help but feel good around him – he’s a true national treasure!

Waddle over here for more information!