Follows the 1998 Big Year competition between Sandy Komito, Al Levantin, and Greg Miller during which the three rivals risked their lives to set a new North American birding record, an event that took them to such locales as Del Rio in search of the rufous-capped warbler and British Columbia in pursuit of the Xantus' hummingbird. 75,000 first printing. There is a well-known competition among birders called the Big Year, in which one abandons one's regular life for one whole year in order to see more species of birds in a geographic area than one's competitors. Environmental journalist Obmascik follows the 1998 Big Year's three main competitors--a New Jersey roofing contractor, a corporate executive, and a software engineer--as they crisscross the country in search of birds. Whether looking for flamingos in the Everglades, great grey owls in the frozen bogs near Duluth, or Asian rarities on the Aleutian island of Attu, these obsessed birders not only faced seasickness, insects, altitude sickness, and going into debt, they also faced each other. Their drive to win propelled all three past the rarified count of 700 species seen, and the winner saw an extraordinary 745 species--a number that will probably never be equaled. With a blend of humor and awe, Obmascik takes the reader into the heart of competitive birding, and in the process turns everyone into birders. Nancy Bent Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved "A rollicking, feather-ruffler of a read, this uproarious adventure...will have you cawing with laughter." -- Jeff Corwin, wildlife biologist, executive producer and host of Animal Planet's The Jeff Corwin Experience. "Charming, engrossing, and educational even for people who can't tell a mudhen from a magpie." -- T.R. Reid, WASHINGTON POST "THE BIG YEAR will blow you away. A vivid, well-crafted epic." -- Kenn Kaufman, author of KAUFMAN FOCUS GUIDES: BIRDS OF NORTH AMERICA "The best and the worst of birding in one grueling yearlong contest...[of] rare passion. -- David Allen Sibley, author of THE SIBLEY GUIDE TO BIRDS "The doggedness of an investigastive reporter...and the compassion of a fellow-traveling obsessive [in] this alluring quest for avian supremacy." -- Stefan Fatsis, author of WORD FREAK: HEARBREAK, TRIUMPH, GENIUS, and OBSESSION IN THE WORLD OF COMPETITIVE SCRABBLE PLAYERS Records the quirks that make any obsessive-subculture book worth reading ... feathered version of It s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. -- Outside Magazine, February 2004 T. R. Reid Washington Post's Rocky Mountain Bureau Chief, regular commentator on National Public Radio's Morning Edition, and author of Confucius Lives Next Door Here's a rare species: a book on birdwatching that turns out to be charming, engrossing, and educational even for people who can't tell a mudhen from a magpie. It was so much fun, I didn't want the big year to end. When it did, there was only one thing to say: "Where'd I put those binoculars?" -- Review Mark Obmascik has been a journalist for two decades, most recently at the Denver Post, where he was lead writer for the newspaper's Pulitzer Prize in 2000 and winner of the 2003 National Press Club Award for environmental journalism. His freelance stories have been published in Outside and other magazines, and he has aired numerous political stories on public affairs and television news programs. An obsessed birder himself, he lives in Denver with his wife and sons. Chapter One: January 1, 1998 Sandy Komito Sandy Komito was ready. It was an hour before sunrise, New Year's Day, and he sat alone at an all-night Denny's in Nogales, Arizona. He ordered ham and eggs. He stared into the black outside the window. At this stage in his life, he knew men who lusted for a new wife or a Porsche or even a yacht. Komito had no interest. What he wanted was birds. For the coming year he would dedicate himself to a singular goal -- spotting more species of birds in North America than any human in history. He knew it wouldn't be easy. He expected to be away from home 270 of the next 365 days chasing winged creatures around the continent. There were ptarmigans to trail on the frozen spine of the Continental Divide in Colorado and hummingbirds to hunt in the heat of the Arizona desert. He would prowl the moonlight for owls in the North Woods of Minnesota and wade the beaches of South Florida at dawn for boobies. He planned to race after birds by boat in Nova Scotia, by bicycle in the Aleutian Islands, and by helicopter in Nevada. Sleep was not a priority, but when it came, he would be tossing in the army bunks of Alaska and turning on the rolling waves of the Dry Tortugas. This was, after all, a competition, and Komito wanted to win. He ordered his second thermos of coffee and spread paperwork across his place mat. One sheet was an Internet printout of a North American rare-bird alert from Houston. The other was a regional alert from Tucson. Komito smile