Reviewed by Sarah Gianelli

Every year, beginning January 1st, hundreds of bird lovers unite in a contest to spot the most species of birds in a single calendar year. Considered the grandest birding competition of all, it’s called the North American Big Year.

1998 was a monumental Big Year. In the year-long competition to spot the most species of birds in North America, one man came out on top with a list 745 birds long. On a continent home to roughly 675 native species, this record-shattering total left serious bird chasers chirping in disbelief and Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Mark Obmascik intrigued. Obmascik tells the story of this incredible feat in his entertaining first book.

In The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession, the top three contenders in the 1998 North American Big Year race around the continental United States and Canada racking up enough expenses, ailments and air miles to prove that competitive birding can also qualify as an extreme sport.

In the running is a ruthless loudmouth from Jersey; an affable executive living out his retirement on the slopes of Aspen; and a guy who was out of shape, flat broke, and attempting to hold down a full time job.

Obmascik didn’t personally witness any of the 1998 Big Year, but through extensive interviews and visits to many of the birders’ destinations, he manages to bring the action to life. By reconstructing scenes that provide access to the inner monologue of each contestant, readers are transported alongside the birders as they bicycle after Asiatic sandpipers on the blustery shores of Alaska’s Aleutian Islands; huff and puff to ptarmigans in the snowy peaks of Colorado; drag a canoe through thigh-high mud for a Florida flamingo, and helicopter into the Nevada mountains for a glimpse of a Himalayan snowcock.

Obmascik heightens the suspense and maximizes the humor by playing up each contestant’s particular weaknesses and relishing in the quirky idiosyncrasies that make this subculture tick.

He manages to squeeze in a bit of birding history, but clearly Obmascik’s main objective is for readers to have fun with The Big Year. Although his obvious enthusiasm for the subject matter translates into the occasional hokey play on words (a man prone to seasickness is called the Duke of Hurl), this is easy to overlook in a book that manages to be funny, fast-paced and engaging — whether you’re in it for the flesh-footed shearwater and fork-tailed flycatcher or the equally fascinating creatures who dedicated a whole year to finding them.