Because when I sat down with owner Dave LeBlanc, the conversation wasn't only about a rooster dispute. We talked about how he and his wife, Sara, ended up in Maine, why their daughter Pyper loves the ocean, what it takes to keep a breakfast restaurant open through a New England winter, and why a stranger's small act of kindness can mean everything. Sara was busy working at the restaurant while Dave and I talked, which, after hearing how they run the place, feels pretty fitting!

You could drive past The Omelette Factory at 422 Main Street, right on Route 1 in Ogunquit, and think of it as another well-loved Maine breakfast stop. But for Dave, it was a place he had been coming to for decades before he ever considered owning it. He remembered falling for the corned beef hash and eggs Benedict years ago, when someone else was running the restaurant. It was one of those places he kept coming back to.

Dave and Sara didn't start in the restaurant business together. In Vermont, they built nature-based childcare centers, drawing on Sara's background in early childhood education. Dave told me about designing classrooms with spaces where children could step away when they needed quiet, and about building large covered outdoor areas so kids could spend time in the fresh air in almost any season. Sara had a saying: "there's no bad weather, there's only bad clothing."

That philosophy says a lot about the two of them. They were thinking about how to make room for different needs long before the Roosters of Ogunquit brought autism acceptance into the national conversation.

Their family grew through foster care when they welcomed Pyper, who later became their daughter. Dave talked about the unexpected turns of parenting and the joy of watching his family come together. I especially loved hearing about their older children, who have their own families and connections to the childcare businesses today.

And then there was the beach.

During visits from Vermont to southern Maine, Dave and Sara noticed something different about Pyper when they got near the ocean. Dave remembered her hearing waves roll in and taking off toward the water, full of excitement. He described seeing her relax and come alive in ways that made them rethink where they wanted to raise their family. In his words, "this is pure joy."

They started looking more seriously at life around Ogunquit and Wells, including the schools and the support they hoped to find for Pyper. When The Omelette Factory came up for sale, it felt like one more piece falling into place. Buying it wasn't a small decision. The property came with the restaurant and the family's home attached, and the financial commitment was enormous. But Dave and Sara were ready to try building a life in the place they'd come to love.

In April 2025, they became the fourth owners of The Omelette Factory. They weren't just buying a breakfast business. They were putting their home, work, and family life under one roof.

Here's the answer for anyone searching, "Why are there giant roosters in Ogunquit, Maine?" The Roosters of Ogunquit began with Pyper's love of roosters, long before there was a zoning dispute or a public movement. The big metal rooster sculptures became familiar, comforting figures for her. As more people displayed roosters to support the family, they also became symbols of autism awareness, acceptance, and inclusion.

Dave traced that love back to little shopping trips when Pyper was young. He remembered spotting rooster toys and decorations, seeing how strongly she connected with them, and realizing that this wasn't a passing interest. Eventually, the family was shopping at Tractor Supply when Pyper saw a much bigger rooster -- the kind you don't exactly tuck into a shopping bag.

Dave told me about standing there with her and asking what the rooster was saying. The answer was simple: it wanted to come home. So home it went. He remembered Pyper's excitement and the little celebration she did after they bought it.

Then something happened that neither Dave nor Sara could have planned.

The next morning, someone left a message for the family. The caller had been having a terrible day, noticed the rooster on the way to work, and wanted to say one thing: "I saw your rooster and it made me smile."

That was it. No grand speech. No campaign. Just somebody telling a stranger that something silly and colorful had made a hard day a little easier.

I LOVE that part of this story. I've spent nearly 40 years in the restaurant business, and I can tell you that those little moments matter. You can work so hard on the big things and then discover that what someone remembers most is the moment you made them smile.

One rooster became another. Then more. Dave described the collection growing, being decorated for holidays, and becoming part of Pyper's routines. For her, these weren't just oversized lawn ornaments. She played around them, recognized them, and used the familiar shapes as part of her daily transition from home to the school bus.

Remember, the LeBlancs' house is attached to The Omelette Factory. The area outside the restaurant is also the entrance to their family home. That distinction became very important when the disagreement with the town began.

The controversy started when town officials treated the metal roosters as unpermitted business signs. The LeBlancs disagreed. Their position was that the decorations belonged to their family and served a personal purpose for Pyper, rather than advertising breakfast to people driving down Route 1.

There is a reason the disagreement got complicated. The Omelette Factory also uses rooster imagery in its branding and merchandise, while the family lives at the same address as the business. Town officials argued the sculptures functioned as advertising under local sign rules. Dave and Sara maintained that the roosters were personal items connected to their daughter.

Dave walked me through the notices, fines, moves, and appeals. He described trying different arrangements and appearing before the local appeals board. The board allowed two roosters under conditions related to how they were attached near the entrance, but that didn't settle everything. He said additional fines followed as the family and town continued to disagree about compliance.

The important thing here is not to confuse a contested zoning issue with a final legal ruling. When Dave and I recorded our conversation, the conflict was still very much part of the family's life. And the public reporting around this dispute has continued to develop.

For people following the Roosters of Ogunquit news, the question is bigger than how many metal birds can stand outside a building. Where does a family's personal space begin when that family lives beside its business? How should a town apply its signage rules when an object also has an important personal meaning? And how do we listen to families explaining what helps their children feel comfortable and included?

You can understand that municipalities have rules to enforce while also recognizing that the people affected by those decisions have stories worth hearing. Sitting with Dave gave me a chance to hear his side in full, not just a sound bite about fines and signs.

One of the things that amazed me was how quickly the story moved beyond the front of The Omelette Factory. People began asking to display roosters of their own. Some were nearby in Ogunquit; others were much farther away. Dave talked about photographs coming in from different places and about sharing those pictures with Pyper so she could see where her rooster friends had traveled.

Instead of concentrating only on the disagreement, the family began talking about how that attention could do something good. Dave described the idea of people "fostering" roosters at homes or businesses and using them to start conversations about autism awareness and inclusion. He said, "And now we're using positive energy to foster growth."

Think about how unusual that is. Someone sees a giant rooster, stops to look, asks why it's there, and learns about a family they may never have met. An object that began as one little girl's comfort can become a reason for neighbors to talk to each other.

Dave also told me about the family's interest in directing that energy toward children and families who could use support. During our conversation, he discussed helping the Youth Enrichment Center at Hilton-Winn Farm in the Ogunquit area and exploring a future charitable effort around autism awareness and inclusion. Those were goals and projects he was describing at the time, not a promise that a new foundation or donation program was already operating.

That distinction matters, because the best part of a story like this isn't the publicity. It's what people actually do with it.

For Dave and Sara, awareness means more than knowing the word autism. It means understanding that different children experience busy stores, routines, transitions, noises, and everyday moments differently. Dave spoke openly about learning as a parent and about how much he values the wisdom of other families who've been living that experience longer.

He also described how deeply the support has affected him. People have driven hours to come to the restaurant, tell the LeBlancs what the story means to them, and sometimes simply ask for a hug. Dave and Sara have long days, and those encounters help keep them going. He and Sara called that encouragement "fuel."

I know from my own life that families raising children with special needs can recognize something in another family's experience, even when the details are very different. I don't think every person needs to understand every part of Pyper's routine. But I do think we can all practice a little more patience, kindness, and curiosity before deciding we know someone else's story.

Now, we absolutely have to talk about the food. I did not go all the way to Ogunquit and forget about breakfast!

The Omelette Factory has been a familiar part of Ogunquit's food scene for decades. Its reputation was built around big breakfasts, a long omelette menu, eggs Benedict, corned beef hash, pancakes, waffles, and French toast. Dave loved the restaurant as a customer long before he bought it, which meant he understood why people wanted certain favorites to stay exactly as they remembered them.

But loving a restaurant as a customer and operating one seven days a week are two very different things.

Dave and Sara made some big changes after taking over. One was staying open through the year rather than relying only on the traditional tourist season. In a Maine beach town, that means learning to survive the quiet days when the summer crowds have gone home. Dave talked honestly about their first difficult winter, about mornings when only a handful of people came in, and about lying awake worrying over the bills. One thought he remembered having was, "I don't know if I'll be able to pay that mortgage."

Those are the parts of restaurant ownership that customers don't always see. The doors may be open, the coffee may be brewing, and a plate may come out looking beautiful -- but behind that plate is a business owner doing the math and hoping the regulars keep coming back.

And some did. Dave told a story about a customer who loved the meatloaf sandwich and began telling people around the waterfront about it. One visit turned into more. A familiar face would bring another familiar face. Slowly, something started building.

Inside, the LeBlancs also rethought the layout. Dave explained how the upstairs area had previously been crowded with takeout customers waiting near unused seats. They saw room to make the restaurant work better, added seating, and took on a fast renovation to put their own stamp on the place. He talked about the practical business decisions behind it -- how much space you have, how many tables can be used, and how a room works when the breakfast rush hits.

On the menu, they kept the spirit of the place while making some careful changes. Dave discussed streamlining less popular omelettes, building up lunch, paying more attention to ingredients, and keeping certain recipes wonderfully simple. He talked about the homemade strawberry jam, the freshly prepared corned beef, generous sausages, and a particular thick bread they loved for French toast. He also named the jerk chicken omelette as a personal favorite.

And then there are Pyper's Famous Red Hots.

Dave brought a New York-style red hot dog tradition to Ogunquit and gave it a place on The Omelette Factory's menu. The version I tried had split grilled hot dogs, a butter-grilled bun, homemade seasoned meat sauce, diced onions, and mustard. Dave explained that the balance matters -- the right hot dog, the right bun, the right meat, and the way all the flavors come together.

My reaction? "Oh my gosh, that is delicious." And then: "I've never had anything like that."

Dave and I were laughing about the word "stupid" as the ultimate compliment for food that's SO good you almost can't explain it. Well, that red hot absolutely earned it. If you're looking for something different to order for lunch at The Omelette Factory in Ogunquit, Maine, put Pyper's Famous Red Hots on your list.

The beautiful part is that even the menu holds a little piece of the family story.

There is a phrase you'll see connected to The Omelette Factory: "Let's be better humans." Dave told me the sentiment grew out of their childcare world, made its way onto shirts, and followed them to Maine. He also talked about another simple saying: "Good food good mood."

And honestly, after hearing the whole story, those phrases sound less like marketing and more like a description of what Dave and Sara want their place to be.

Dave was quick to give Sara credit. She was working while we recorded, but he described how much she carries: hiring, social media, merchandise, creative ideas, and all the pieces that keep a business running. His words were, "She's the master behind the idea. She really is." He said they each have strengths and different responsibilities, both at the restaurant and at home. "We have our lanes."

At home, those lanes include caring for Pyper, getting ready for school, keeping household routines going, and somehow finding a little time to be a family. In the restaurant, they include ordering, preparing food, looking after employees, and welcoming the customers who make a local business feel like part of a town.

Dave shared a small detail I won't forget: Pyper helps bring a breakfast sandwich to her school bus driver. The sandwich was even given a name on the menu -- the Quincy, after the driver who loved it. That is such a sweet little piece of everyday hospitality.

Then, near the end of our visit, I asked Dave for a hospitality story. He told me about a woman who had been listening to other customers talk at the restaurant. She didn't know them. She just liked the stories she heard, so she quietly paid for their meals. And Dave talked about customers picking up checks for strangers, people asking to help, and the steady stream of hugs that have come through the doors.

"That's what it's all about. That and the hugs. My God, the hugs."

I couldn't agree more.

If you've been following the Roosters of Ogunquit because you saw a headline about metal roosters, the Ogunquit zoning dispute, or autism awareness in Maine, I hope you'll take the time to meet the family behind the story. And if you love finding great breakfast places in New England, The Omelette Factory deserves a spot on your list for that reason, too.

Go watch my full conversation with Dave LeBlanc on Beyond the Plate with Carol. You'll hear how this family found its way to Ogunquit, why the roosters mean so much, what it's really like to run the restaurant, and all those little stories that can't fit into a headline. Then tell me: have you seen a Rooster of Ogunquit out in the wild? I'd love to know where!

The Omelette Factory
422 Main Street (Route 1), Ogunquit, Maine
omelettefactoryme.com
Instagram: @omelettefactoryog

Carol Erickson ran the Red Arrow Diner for nearly 40 years. Today she hosts Beyond the Plate with Carol, sharing the food, people, businesses, and community stories that make New England special.

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This episode is sponsored by Belmont Hall & Restaurant.
Manchester, NH -- family-owned for over 90 years.
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ABOUT CAROL ERICKSON

Carol Erickson has owned Red Arrow Diner since 1987 -- four locations across New Hampshire, open 24/7. She started Beyond the Plate to tell the real stories behind the people who make New England's food and hospitality scene what it is. Not just what's on the menu. What's behind it.

Red Arrow Diner: redarrowdiner.com  |  @redarrow24diner