A Steller’s Jay sleeping well knowing it’s not going the way of the Steller’s Sea Cow any time soon. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

I can finally breathe easily. Soon I’ll never have to get annoyed with people who spell Steller’s Jay, “Stellar.” Indeed they are stellar birds, but the moniker wasn’t bestowed from a need to emphasize their astronomical awesomeness. This common backyard jay, one we enjoy on the Hill, is named after Georg Steller, the German naturalist and physician aboard the Bering Expedition.  Ole Georg is long dead and holds the dubious honor of having multiple endangered or extinct animals named after him. My real reason for feeling a bit of relief is that this bird and dozens of others are slated to be renamed.

Who gets to name a bird? Well, it’s certainly not the birds themselves. At least where we live, the American Ornithological Society is the group of individuals in charge of naming and renaming birds. Don’t get me wrong – you can call a bird whatever name you like – but when we start to try to communicate about a specific species and we have wildly different names for them, it can be a little less than efficient.

The American Ornithological Society (AOS) announced on November 1st, 2023 that it will endeavor to change the English names of birds named after people, as well as those deemed otherwise offensive. (Flesh-footed Shearwater is a good example of offensive – it has pink feet.) For me, this was a welcome announcement and as a Scorpio, I considered it a personal birthday gift, and a signal that those in charge of an area of study I love are taking steps to right wrongs. For others it was the result of long conversations and hard work (I have written about the work of folks in the group Bird Names for Birds previously on Pikes/Pines). For some, it was at best a waste of time, and at worst just another step down the road towards woke-town where white people are being “discriminated against.”

Thankfully, the AOS did not bow and scrape to the latter of these opinions. Birding and ornithology has all types, but has historically been mostly a white male thing and still largely is. Thankfully that trend is changing, and the commitment to future name changes demonstrates that the AOS knows things need to be better. And that we don’t need birds named after Confederate Generals and slave owners, particularly for the argument of “history.”

This is also an exciting opportunity to name birds for their field marks, behavior, and natural history. Why do we need to celebrate some dead white guy who has next to nothing to do with the birds named after him? From the perspective of folks at the AOS the answer is: we don’t.

Longtime birders who have a problem with this (I too am a longtime birder), can go kick rocks if they find it annoying or pointless. Bird name changes have happened before and the old guard have lived and even grown their life list when something got split. Fighting these name changes is fighting against birding being a more inclusive space. It’s actively arguing to discourage a more diverse group of people to care about birds, be involved in their study and conservation, and from simply loving nature, which is no one’s sole domain. That’s just fucked.

Of course, these changes won’t happen quickly, so don’t go throwing out your field guides just yet. The AOS plans to focus on approximately 80 birds in the US and Canada and engage the public in the process. And even once that’s done, you might catch me accidentally calling Steller’s Jay, just that. I’ve been calling them that for 30 years, so I understand change is hard. (It’s telling that I could still be considered a “young” birder and that I am nearly 40.)

Besides confronting racism and misogyny in the world of birds (and to be clear this doesn’t give the ornithological world a pass, this is low hanging fruit, not systemic change) – I hope that these changes will actually give us better names. Names that mean something. Bird names for birds.

Here’s a few of the common species on the Hill that will most certainly be up for renaming along with some contextual facts and speculation:

Cooper’s Hawk – Accipiter cooperii

A Cooper’s Hawk contemplating a fiere new name. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

Namesake: William Cooper  (1798–1864), given by Charles Lucien Bonaparte (the nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte). Not a lot of readily available information about Cooper’s life but he was an active american naturalist and collector, helping found the organization that would become the New York Academy of Sciences. Given that this hawk was named by the nephew of a tyrant and that Cooper was part of the good old boy club that included Audubon – he might’ve been light on ethical behavior, but I am not his biographer. Either way, Cooper didn’t have some special relationship with this hawk. He’s just some guy that happened to be around at the time.

New name speculation: The genus Accipiter is widespread and has members on every continent except Antarctica – so there’s a lot of competition for descriptive names. But somehow, there is not a Dusky-capped Hawk, which is far more obviously descriptive than a close relative’s name, the Sharp-shinned Hawk. Because they are so common, there are a lot of vernacular names for these hawks but my all time favorite is: Big Blue Darter. Why not?

Anna’s Hummingbird – Calypte anna

An Anna’s Hummingbird wondering if they can just be named “Sugar Bird.” (Image: Brendan McGarry)

Namesake: Anne Debelle, Princesse d’Essling (1802–1887), given by the French naturalist René Lesson. She was a French courtier, a lady in waiting for the Empress of France and her husband was friends with the naturalist that named the bird. Don’t pause at the part where Anne is the only woman here – that is not representation. And again, she never breathed a breath in the same place as the bird we know to be named after her nor was she a noted ornithologist (one final time – we’re avoiding eponyms entirely).

New name speculation: Hummingbirds have awesome names. Mangos, Hermits, Starthroats to name a few. I don’t know what the choice will be but there’s a precedent for creative names. The only other species in the genus also has an eponym so maybe we can stop calling them just “hummingbirds” and come up with another more fun name. Magenta-sheilded Darter (I’m borrowing from the vernacular above).

Townsend’s Warbler – Setophaga townsendi

A Townsend’s Warbler contemplating what it takes to find unique, descriptive names. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

Namesake: John Kirk Townsend (1809 – 1851) was an American naturalist who was the first person to formally describe this bird. But that doesn’t mean it magically came into being afterwards – certainly indigenous people across this bird’s home range knew about it since, well, forever. Townsend happened to be friends with a phrenologist back in Philadelphia. These pseudo scientists matched head shape to mental traits (usually to uphold racist ideas) and Townsend helped his friend acquire skulls out West. Though there were likely few legitimate ways to procure a skull, Townsend thought it worthwhile to dig up the graves of indigenous people in the various places he traveled. Real class act.

New name speculation: There are at least 34 species in this warbler genus and all of them live in the New World. I’d like to see this name be related to the warbler’s close association with conifers but I can’t quite land on a good name. Black-throated Warbler might seem an obvious choice but there are already three flavors of that. Mossy-backed Warbler perhaps?

Bewick’s Wren – Thryomanes bewickii

A supercilious Bewick’s Wren. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

Namesake: Thomas Bewick (1753–1828), given by John James Audubon himself. Bewick was a famous English wood engraver whose work is often considered the precursor to modern field guides. While his art was exceedingly skillful and his Wikipedia page makes him sound quite upstanding (and he couldn’t have written it himself) – here’s the rub: Bewick wasn’t someone deeply familiar with this wren, in fact he likely never saw one alive. Why would we cling to this?

New name speculation: there are 88 species in the order Troglodytidae and the hotbed of their diversity sits in the Neotropics. What I’m getting at here is that two birds can’t have the same name. Eyebrowed Wren is my first thought but boy, that’s kinda boring and a lot of wrens have eyebrow markings. (Note here that common names are changing, not scientific names. This is largely because honorifics are even more common here and that’s a much harder, less forward facing web to untangle.)

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