Birder extraordinaire Steve N. G. Howell wrote an essay recently that has been making the rounds and sparking discussions in which he points out some of the contradictions contained in the English names of birds.
Jerry Seinfeld forged a mega-successful career pointing out the comedic absurdities of everyday life with his “What's the deal with…?” jokes. For example: “Why do they call it a ‘building’? It looks like they're finished. Why isn't it a ‘built’?”
Howell’s approach is largely tongue-in-cheek, as he poses questions about the inappropriateness of species names. For instance, he points out that common mergansers are probably the least common of the three mergansers in North America. And the American dipper and American coot are North American species, although a half-dozen other dipper and coot species can be found in Central and South America, which apparently don’t count.
Following this common theme, I have a few birding name issues of my own. Such as:
Northern mockingbird: Until recently, this was primarily a southern North American species.
While we’re talking about directional names, the Eastern kingbird is found all the way to the West Coast and most of Canada. Northern beardless-tyranulets rarely stray north of the Texas or Arizona borders with Mexico. Northern parula warblers reside primarily in southern swamps.
Here are some more: Magnolia warblers spend the nesting months in Canada, not in the southern shiny leafed trees of their name. Connecticut warblers are rarely seen in their namesake state. And Virginia’s warblers never show up there – they were named for a woman.
Woodpeckers are some of my favorites. To observe the color of a red-bellied woodpecker’s belly it usually has to be in your hand. What’s with a hairy woodpecker? And who among us has seen the cockade of a red-cockaded woodpecker? Or the crown of an orange-crowned warbler?
All sparrows sing, so what makes a song sparrow so special? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the crests of a double-crested cormorant. Why isn’t a ring-necked duck named for the bold white ring around its bill? And have any Arizona birders ever counted the stripes on a five-striped sparrow? I count none.
Now I’m rolling: Mountain plovers reside in dry upland prairies and plains. Every thrasher has a decurved bill, so what’s so distinctive about the curve-billed thrasher? And the only creeper in North America is the brown creeper, although dozens of other creeper species can be found in Central and South America – all of which are brown.
The most common snipe in North America used to be called a common snipe, but is now called a Wilson’s snipe. The common snipe is a European bird – and extremely rare in North America.
Here’s where Howell takes aim at our sense of national superiority, and its influence on bird names.
“Depends on where you live,” Howell writes. “After a while, you come to learn that ‘Common’ actually appears to be short for ‘common where some mid-latitude Northern Hemisphere white people lived’ -- but that’s a bit of a mouthful for an English name: ‘Hey, I just saw a Common-where-some-mid-latitude Northern-Hemisphere-white-people-lived Grackle.’ Rolls right off the tongue.”
The snowy owls have generally cleared out from the Cleveland area lakefront, but several remain nearby. They include three at Cleveland Hopkins Airport, seen by Laura Madden, and one east of Fairport Harbor, reported by Jerry Talkington.
Talkington refound the Le Conte’s sparrow at the Cleveland Lakefront Nature Preserve.
Gulls at the mouth of the Cuyahoga River near Wendy Park on Sunday included Iceland, Thayer’s, glaucous, and lesser black-backed, Jen Brumfield reported. Long-tailed ducks were there too, and at the East 72nd Street warm-water release site. White-winged scoters were seen off of Perkin’s Beach at Edgewater Park.