Black Noddy? Taiga Bean Goose? Yellow-faced Grassquit?
No, these aren't the names of the latest rock bands coming to you on Spotify, though it would be easy to be confused about that.
These are, in fact, bird names. Yes, there really is a Taiga Bean Goose. And a Tundra Bean Goose, too. Just in case you're not sure which bean goose you're looking at.
I've long been fascinated by bird names, some of which are downright goofy (see poll). Does the goose in question eat beans? Is it shaped like a bean? Does it live in bean fields? (Wikipedia says the name derives from its habit of grazing in bean field stubbles. But hey ... Wikipedia.)
Here's the Taiga Bean Goose. (Googled image; all other photos mine unless otherwise specified.)
I wish I had the answers for all the various bird names, but I don't. Fortunately, some names of bird species are easier to understand because their names are associated with an obvious characteristic (Red-winged Blackbird) or the name of a person somehow responsible for its discovery or naming (Mr. Swainson of Swainson's Thrush or Swainson's Hawk fame).
Most common of all among bird names are their associated colors and other visible characteristics. That makes sense, even when some of the other bird names leave you scratching your head. There are names for just about every color in the rainbow if you think about it. I have and I'm sharing some of them here.
Feel free to play this colorful game by sharing your own examples in the comments.
Greater Yellowlegs. No complaint here. It is what it is, though I wish the photo showed more of its long, bright yellow legs here covered by water. But a good name. An A+.
Yellow-rumped Warbler. Another perfectly named bird. It's even bending over a bit to show you why its name fits so well. Another A+.
Red-winged Blackbird. A trifecta! How could there be a better name? A+ for sure.
Green Heron. Playing a little fast and loose here, oh bird namers. Green Herons are one of the most complex-colored birds around. They have very little green anytime of the year, adult or juvenile, breeding or non-breeding. They are greenish on their heads, but this bird is much more bluish and gray, rust and brownish, white and just about everything else -- except green. I think a better name would have been Blue-Gray Reddish Streaked-breasted Heron. Green Heron gets a C+ from me.
Red-tailed Hawk and Red-shouldered Hawk. Two good choices; an A+ for each.
Black-necked Stilt. I ask you, is the black neck on this bird its most distinguishing characteristic? Any more than its black back? Or its black tail? Of course not. This bird's red legs are its claim to fame. It should have been named Red-legged Stilt, not Black-necked. Except -- there are several species of stilts in other parts of the world and they all have red legs. Hence, this one's name reflects what is, in fact, its distinguishing characteristic that makes it different from the others -- its black neck. For that, it gets an A.
White-crowned Sparrow and Golden-crowned Sparrow. No argument here. Perfect names. A+.
It didn't take a whole lot of imagination for this Brown-headed Cowbird to get its name. As the Bean Goose hangs around with beans, I guess the cowbird hangs around with cows. Cowbirds are widely despised because they are nest parasites. They didn't get their bad reputations from cows, though. Cows are probably indignant at being associated with such hoodlums. Grade for this recalcitrant reprobate? I'm saying B as in brown.
Next up is this dapper little fellow known as the Black Phoebe. I always think of the Black Phoebe as the tuxedo bird because it's mostly black, but has this nifty white vest, almost an undershirt really, sort of like the Penguin from Batman. With so many colorful birds to choose from, I must admit that this little Black Phoebe is one of my very favorites. As for the name, I give it a solid A.
Keeping with the black-and-white theme for a moment, here's another handsome bird called the Yellow-billed Magpie. Magpies are common in much of the U.S. but this one is special and its name says why: Yellow-billed Magpie. That's right. All the other magpies have black bills, but this species has a yellow bill and it's unique to a narrow strip of the Central Valley in California. I'll never forget the first time I saw one as I was driving on a rural road outside of Stockton. It was on a telephone line and I nearly drove off the road skidding to a stop on the soft shoulder of the highway when my brain was unable to grasp what I'd seen. (This was before I knew about this unique species.) This bird's name perfectly matches its special status -- A+.
The various birds I've highlighted so far are those whose names seem reasonably straightforward because the distinguishing characteristics don't change much if at all. But many species have appearances that are notably different between males and females and juveniles, and also between breeding and non-breeding plumages. Here are a few examples that may stump the non-birders visiting Dawn Chorus this morning:
This pretty little thing has stumped people in the field more than once who mistake it for a sparrow when, in fact, it is a female Red-winged Blackbird.
Another bird that can stump people is the Black-bellied Plover discussed just last Sunday here on Dawn Chorus. Here's my photo of one in its winter plumage:
But lo and behold, look what it looks like when summer rolls around (Googled image). I've never seen one in summer dress because these plovers spend their summers in the Tundra. But it's one heck of a change.
Here's another color-named bird worth taking a look at because the difference between adult and juvenile. Here's the adult Black-crowned Night Heron followed by a juvenile of the same species. (And I'm giving the adult a B+ on the name because its crown is bluish-gray, not black.)
Recapping our colorful bird names, I note a multitude of colors referenced -- yellow, red, black, brown, green, white -- and realize I'm remiss in including my own personal favorite color -- blue. So let's fix that with a couple of perfectly named birds, the Great Blue Heron and the Little Blue Heron. Could there be any more perfect descriptions for these names? A+ for each.
Of course, as the Taiga Bean Goose at the beginning of this diary attests, there are many more bird names that go well beyond colors and distinguishing characteristics or discoverer names. Auklets, guillemots, murres and skuas are just a few of the pelagic names that seem odd.
How about grebes and shearwaters? Gallinules and limpkins? Trogons? Phalaropes? How about nightjars, for cryin' out loud?
I obviously didn't undertake thesis-level research for this light-hearted diary, though I did Google bird names somewhat and, frankly, I was a bit surprised at how little I came up with. But for those of you interested, here's a link to some origin information for some species. Some names derive from non-English word origins, from the sound of the bird's call, from myth, from plumage and from a variety of other things -- fascinating, but very limited. Personally, I'd love to learn more. http://www.bottlebrushpress.com/...
So what bird names give you pause and sound like oddities to you? What other birds from the color palette do you have to share? There are many more than the ones included above. Please use the comments to share and comment on your own contributions.
Finally, we haven't had a Dawn Chorus quiz in awhile and wacky bird names seem like a good subject for a poll. Please vote or your choice below or tell us in the comments which ones I missed that should have been included.
Have a great Sunday and good birding to all.