The Big Year has been an experience like no other. When I first started this challenge, it made perfect sense for me to enter the competition. For starters, I always try to see as many birds as possible each year, so this was a natural extension of my personal annual challenges. Then I’ve always dreamed about participating in a Big Year, getting annual inspiration from watching The Big Year movie each New Year’s Eve. When my local Audubon Society announced the county competition, it was a no brainer for me to join.

January and February were great. My husband and I, working as a team, picked up so many birds. We were out birding every day, sometimes squeezing in a quick bird list during work breaks or lunches. We attended every Audubon-sponsored bird trip and, like a sponge, soaked up all the tips that the local birding community had to offer. I frequently updated my spreadsheet that tracked the birds we’d seen and carefully planned our next visits – until a bird alert would force us to pivot to a new location in a hyper search for a unique bird. It was all a thrill.

Until it wasn’t.

Before pursuing this Big Year, I was already burdened by life’s pressures and health set-backs, but I figured that this would give me an escape. Instead, it added to my feelings of overwhelm. By March, my body started to scream, “STOP!” I had been pushing through migraines and waking up too early for field trips when I should have been sleeping in. Chores were left undone and I was eating fast food and sugary sweets much more than I care to admit. I was also feeling really down because we kept on driving all over the county to see rare or infrequent birds, spending countless hours on the road and in unfamiliar places only to not find the damn bird and later see it reported that day by someone else. I was worn out and discouraged.

So I started to rest. I stopped going on field trips in March to allow myself to sleep more on the weekends. We prioritized grocery shopping and I figured out ways to pack lunch and healthy snacks. I tried to incorporate at least one day to focus on being a homebody to do chores. I limited the long birding hours to just a half day, or at least break up a long day with other non-birding activities to recoup.

I think back to my post on birding meditation, where I described the peaceful nature of mindful birding. Reading it, I feel a sense of calm, remembering what it’s like to fully immerse myself into the activity without worrying about getting that target bird that could make-or-break our ranking in this competition. The Big Year disrupted the meditative quality of birding for me. It also caused me to sacrifice other important activities, like cooking or tidying up my home. This hyper-competitive spirit certainly isn’t nourishing, especially if you have a lot of other responsibilities tugging at you.

I’m looking to strike a balance between going all in for a competition that I’ve always dreamed about while also prioritizing my self-care. I’m working to find a place of peace to enjoy this friendly competition, try my best, and respect my personal limitations. This will be increasingly important as we head into spring migration, where the birding frenzy will suddenly pick up again for weeks on end.

Seeing my first Bullock’s Oriole for the year filled me with so much excitement, as the splash of vibrant orange color was a welcomed relief from the dull, dreary, and wet winter days. I am looking forward to tapping into that joy as we welcome a new set of birds arriving for the breeding season.