Birds of Prey

Me, a feral chicken? I can see you have been wiping your ass with that mouth. Are you calling me a liar? I am left with no choice; I throw down the gauntlet. I challenge you to a Big Bird Year, you grouch. The remainder of 2026 shall be spent in observation of our flighty little friends. The winner shall be determined by the longest species list on eBird. I don’t give a hoot if you saw a rare snow goose earlier this year, he was as lost as you are. We are starting fresh, February first.  

Unlike a knife fight, there are rules. I would feel bad walloping you in trip to Costa Rica, so we are going to stick with the lower 48. We cannot escape the age of the internet, so Big Brother iPhone, or the neanderthalic android, is fair play. The Merlin app is permitted to help find, track, and identify a species. AI identification is fair enough, just don’t hobble around on it. Your Golden Eagle eyes must confirm the sighting yourself. There are no bonus points for rare species, but everyone will marvel at your autism for spotting the Yellow-billed Magpie. Sorcery is strictly prohibited, especially a Hitchcockarian stunt. This includes, but is not limited to:

·       Prophecy and foresight, there will be no guided tours or hired professional. If you spot the bird before the guide, let’s talk. Maybe you found a new job.

·       Shapeshifting and disguise, birds in captivity do not count. They were discovered by capitalism, not you. No bird dress, you won’t be fooling anybody.

·       Enchanted objects, bird call audio and audio ID apps. While you may call birds by your own enchantment, playing a bird call from your phone is not only cheating but disorienting to the local population. Respect the bird man.

·       Knowledge without spells is NOT prohibited. There is nothing wrong with being the smartest man.

The stakes you ask? Burn in Hell Joan. Oh, like the carrot. Sorry. Why waste our silly little pride if there is nothing to gloat over? Money is no fun, it grows on trees. Ribbons would be neat if we still wet our pants and swung from monkey bars. Punishments are the kosher tradition. An Arctic Turn ass tattoo? Take a Canadian Hell Goose hostage? These would have been gold if I was still a dumb frat boy. Alas. And I ponder… perhaps we consult a Little Owl. The plates have begun to spin, and the entire world is once again, in motion.

(The Big Al Project is not sponsored by, endorsed by, or affiliated with eBird, Merlin, or any of their affiliates. Yet.)