Everything significant has its pinnacle moments.
February 1st 2009 marks the beginning of a new month. For us here in the frigid Great Lakes regions, it is a mere 24 hours before a furry mid size mammal with prominent front teeth, gleefully (if not sleepily) informs us that our favorite season of the year has just gone into triple overtime. However, February 1st this year has the added distinction of being the end of something significant: the NFL Football season. It has also been selected as the day when the biggest, grandest, most watched sporting event of the season is played to determine the best of the best: The Superbowl (XLIII). This day will crown professionals of one participating team as “champions.” Men (only…and you’ll see my point in a few paragraphs) whom we have rooted for, paid to see, lived vicariously through, and built into legends, can be crowned supreme on this day of days. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll have my boob tube dialed in just as eagerly as the next guy to witness the spectacle (if not the commercials) that this game has become. What I’d like to juxtapose here in my little bloggy-world (and who really knows if anyone at all reads the damn thing) is an alternative universe where the World Series of Birding gets the same accolades (and world-wide appeal) as the “big” games.
The WSB as it is often referred to is not held at the “end” of any season, month, of time period that brings anything to its conclusion. Rather it is conveniently scheduled to coincide with one of the two greatest periods in a birding year; spring migration. (The other being fall migration, but then again, you knew that one) It’s name suggests a connection with baseball, borrowing the “World Series” part from the venerable Grand Old Game, but other that an obtuse reference to “fly” balls, there is no direct link I assure you. This year’s 26th annual (and that’s “XXVI” for you roman numeral enthusiasts) WSB will be held May 9th in Cape May New Jersey, in that North American Mecca of all things avian.
To be allowed to enter the WSB competition, wanna-be entrants’ and teams must simply fill out a registration form HERE and pay the fees. Follow the rules and anyone (any team) could be a winner. I have yet to enter, but I know I will someday…rubbing elbows with birding’s finest and most famous as I schlep along with my fellow rookies, hoping for a crumb of knowledge, and a life bird or two.
Here is a chance for the little guy (and little “gal” thank you very much) to participate in an event for all of us schmucks to aspire to. Gender doesn’t factor in, as well as race, creed, color, physical deformities, blindness, politics, or financial standing. Even age isn’t a factor (unless you consider that the older you get, the better you may actually become…shhhhh, you see it’s all about “experience” here) this is a “sport” for everyone. You don’t have t
o be tall, muscular, handsome, graceful, or physically gifted. Birding is one of the few sports where a favorite cocktail could even be enjoyed while participating. Imagine that one on the gridiron! (Disclaimer…the WSB does not necessarily endorse the consumption of alcoholic-laced or any other beverages for that matter, while in competition…blah, blah, blah…but you get my point here I hope) Here my friends is a sport to be enjoyed from cradle to grave with bad knees and all, and not just when you are in your prime, (or before you go to free agency, whichever comes first) plus no mouth guard is required!
I know you all want to read about the Stud’s Superbowl prediction, don’t you? Well, my method for establishing the winner of the game was very scientific; I invited a representative from each team to my backyard feeder for an interview. Since only the Cardinals accepted my offer and sent their captain, they will win the game…simple.
The final score will be: (Northern) Cardinals 21 – Steelers 17…psssst…a little birdy told me.
February 1st 2009 marks the beginning of a new month. For us here in the frigid Great Lakes regions, it is a mere 24 hours before a furry mid size mammal with prominent front teeth, gleefully (if not sleepily) informs us that our favorite season of the year has just gone into triple overtime. However, February 1st this year has the added distinction of being the end of something significant: the NFL Football season. It has also been selected as the day when the biggest, grandest, most watched sporting event of the season is played to determine the best of the best: The Superbowl (XLIII). This day will crown professionals of one participating team as “champions.” Men (only…and you’ll see my point in a few paragraphs) whom we have rooted for, paid to see, lived vicariously through, and built into legends, can be crowned supreme on this day of days. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll have my boob tube dialed in just as eagerly as the next guy to witness the spectacle (if not the commercials) that this game has become. What I’d like to juxtapose here in my little bloggy-world (and who really knows if anyone at all reads the damn thing) is an alternative universe where the World Series of Birding gets the same accolades (and world-wide appeal) as the “big” games.
The WSB as it is often referred to is not held at the “end” of any season, month, of time period that brings anything to its conclusion. Rather it is conveniently scheduled to coincide with one of the two greatest periods in a birding year; spring migration. (The other being fall migration, but then again, you knew that one) It’s name suggests a connection with baseball, borrowing the “World Series” part from the venerable Grand Old Game, but other that an obtuse reference to “fly” balls, there is no direct link I assure you. This year’s 26th annual (and that’s “XXVI” for you roman numeral enthusiasts) WSB will be held May 9th in Cape May New Jersey, in that North American Mecca of all things avian.
To be allowed to enter the WSB competition, wanna-be entrants’ and teams must simply fill out a registration form HERE and pay the fees. Follow the rules and anyone (any team) could be a winner. I have yet to enter, but I know I will someday…rubbing elbows with birding’s finest and most famous as I schlep along with my fellow rookies, hoping for a crumb of knowledge, and a life bird or two.
Here is a chance for the little guy (and little “gal” thank you very much) to participate in an event for all of us schmucks to aspire to. Gender doesn’t factor in, as well as race, creed, color, physical deformities, blindness, politics, or financial standing. Even age isn’t a factor (unless you consider that the older you get, the better you may actually become…shhhhh, you see it’s all about “experience” here) this is a “sport” for everyone. You don’t have t
o be tall, muscular, handsome, graceful, or physically gifted. Birding is one of the few sports where a favorite cocktail could even be enjoyed while participating. Imagine that one on the gridiron! (Disclaimer…the WSB does not necessarily endorse the consumption of alcoholic-laced or any other beverages for that matter, while in competition…blah, blah, blah…but you get my point here I hope) Here my friends is a sport to be enjoyed from cradle to grave with bad knees and all, and not just when you are in your prime, (or before you go to free agency, whichever comes first) plus no mouth guard is required!I know you all want to read about the Stud’s Superbowl prediction, don’t you? Well, my method for establishing the winner of the game was very scientific; I invited a representative from each team to my backyard feeder for an interview. Since only the Cardinals accepted my offer and sent their captain, they will win the game…simple.
The final score will be: (Northern) Cardinals 21 – Steelers 17…psssst…a little birdy told me.
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