Birding for a ‘Big Year’ takes months of planning
Published 6:27 pm Monday, November 24, 2008
January is a time of new beginnings, new resolutions and a fresh chance to rack up an impressive yearlong bird list. For the ultra-marathon of competitive birding, called a Big Year, a few obsessive birders race to see as many North American species as they can between January 1 and December 31.
Actually, if you were serious about going after a Big Year, you’d have started planning months ago. You’d have researched where rare species are sighted. You’d have surfed the Internet for cheap, flexible airline tickets. You might have made arrangements to take leave from your job, even mortgaged your house. You’d have definitely kissed your family goodbye. And you’d have spent New Year’s Eve camped in some remote location waiting for early morning hoots from a rare owl.
If you think all that’s an exaggeration, listen up.
Every year, a quirky crowd of birders storms across North America for this grand and expensive 365-day event. Some years produce more species than others, however, in 1998 several things converged to make it the granddaddy of all Big Years. That year winds from a strong El Nino blew birds into areas where they are rarely seen, offering once-in-a-lifetime sightings. It was a different, friendlier world back then when jumping on and off airplanes was easier.
In that year, three extreme birders threw their birding hats into the ring to try for a Big Year: Sandy Komito, an industrial contractor from New Jersey, Al Levantin, a retired corporate executive from Colorado and Greg Miller, a computer engineer hailing from Maryland. They knew it would take more than 700 species to win the Big Year title.
The rules were simple: count any species that flutters, mistakenly ventures or is blown by storms to the airspace above North American soil, north of the U.S.-Mexican border. The entire competition is based completely on the honor system; no documentation is required.
The competitors headed off on their own, but occasionally brushed elbows where rare birds were reported. They traveled to Attu, Alaska, hoping for rare Asian birds. They found them in numbers never seen before or since. In the Dry Tortugas off Southern Florida they searched for a scarce Red-footed Booby. That year Brownsville, Texas, seemed to pull Mexican species across the border like a magnet.
The competitors didn’t spend time looking for common species; instead they sought out rarities, rightly assuming that along the way they could tick off the common birds. Daily—sometimes hourly—they consulted birding hotlines from around the U.S. and Canada hoping for tips that would give them the edge. They jumped on planes and tore after the little tweeties, willing the birds to stick around long enough to be added to their lists.
On December 31, when all the dust and feathers had settled, Levantin and Miller were almost tied with 711 and 715 species respectively. Levantin had flown more than 135,000 miles and spent $60,000 dollars. Miller scored well for flying 87,000 miles, driving another 36,000 miles and spending only half that amount.
The grand winner was Sandy Komito with a jaw-dropping, likely never-to-be-repeated 745 species. He spent $100,000 dollars and clocked 275,000, mostly last minute, flight miles for a contest with no cash prize and no trophy.
Surprisingly, Komito never sighted a Great Gray Owl, a bird that I easily saw in Bellevue’s Bridle Trails Park several years back.
Or . . . on reflection, you might decide to have a Not-So-Big Year. You could just count the bird species on Mercer Island or simply the birds in your yard. In that case, it’s definitely not too late to start. Take a new bird checklist and write “2007 Yard List” across the top. Then each time you see a new-for-this-year species, tick it off. A reasonable goal will be 70 bird species—not 700. You won’t need to mortgage your house and you won’t have to kiss your family good-bye.
Frances Wood can be reached at wood@whidbey.com.
