C.J. has the week off. This is a reprint of a column from January, 2010
I bought a book for a friend, on a subject in which I had little interest. I read the book before I gave it to him, to make sure that it was something that he might enjoy.
He was lucky to get it from me.
The book was The Big Year, by Mark Obmascik. The book is about bird watching, or more specifically, bird counting. It was one of the most fascinating reads of my year, and the book’s subtitle, “A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession” says everything about the nature of this “sport.”
In the world of birding, a “Big Year” is the quest to see and identify as many species as you can, from January 1st to December 31st. Obmascik documented the quest for a record year by three very different kinds of people: “… a New Jersey industrial contractor, a nuclear power worker and a corporate chief executive.”
Bill is a “bird-man,” and while we sat in the backyard of a mutual friend last summer, a bird lit in the avocado tree above us.
“Oh, my gosh,” said Bill. “That’s a downy woodpecker.” He proceeded to give me the stats and particulars of the different kinds of woodpeckers, until my head flopped backward on my neck. When I came to, all I could remember was that Woody is a pileated woodpecker.
When Bill made a joking reference to “getting ready for our Big Year,” I laughed: I am no birdman. But as I thought about the three principals in the book, I wondered if I could enjoy a spirited hunt for bird species. I can’t beat Bill; he can score hundreds of birds in his backyard. But my apartment building is across from a park, and birds peck on the air-conditioning unit outside my bedroom window. Easy scores, there; maybe I could enjoy this, even absent the obsession.
I armed myself with the bird Bible: “Peterson Field Guide To Birds Of North America” a pair of Bushnell 7×15 binoculars, and a journal, and prepared for January 1st.
January 1st was a bright, sunny and brutally cold day: 18 degrees. No birds pecked on the air-conditioning unit outside my window. I went outside to test my new binoculars, and all I saw were pigeons. I got into my car, and went to a park, thinking- “gotta be birds here.” As I wound through the park, I saw some ducks. Score! I noted the markings, got back into my warm car, and failed to find the duck. As I paged through the many illustrations of birds, I noticed one that looked like my duck: a Canada goose.
According to Obmascik, the North American Continent is home to 675 bird species. In order to count them, a Big Year birder has to research them, know their habits and know where they are likely to appear. It is late in the evening of January 7th as I write this, and my Big Year is off to a slow start. Since I don’t know birds, I have to go through a laborious process of sighting, noting markings and finding the bird in the field guide. I am woefully unprepared for this task, but then, my Big Year will be a more leisurely pursuit. I’ll look, sight, and learn.
This morning I saw a big bird fly over the bare trees of the park outside my window; a flock of pigeons bloomed into flight below it. I put the binoculars on it as it banked and soared away. My second bird: a broad-winged hawk.
This is going to be a really Big Year.