I feel like this was a thoroughly glossed-over, rose-colored version of Audubon's life. A couple panels of couching and fever dreams barely interrupt a breezy, care-free romp through early America as a man endlessly shoots birds out of the sky and poses them for his drawing while leaving his family at home for what seems like most of his adult life. If the tone was going to be one of admiration, I would have preferred the focus to be on his work. If the focus was going to be on the man, I would have preferred a more honest look at his flaws. Unfortunately, this provides neither. While I understand the value of his work, his was not exactly the life of a man worth admiring, but the book seems overly impressed with its subject. Still an okay read with decent enough art.