About the Book
The Lapwing once had many regional names; the Loon has a British-American identity crisis and the respectable-sounding Apostlebird is often called a Lousy Jack. Why do bird names, both common and scientific, change over time and why do they vary so much between different parts of the English-speaking world? Wandering through the scientific and cultural history of ornithology takes us to the heart of understanding the long relationship between birds and people.
Lapwings, Loons and Lousy Jacks uncovers the stories behind the incredible diversity of bird names, explains what many scientific names actually mean and takes a look at the history of the system by which we name birds. Ray Reedman explores the natural history and folklore behind bird names, in doing so unlocking the mystery of the name Scoter, the last unexplained common name of a British bird species.
Table of Contents:
Introduction
Historical Perspectives
Roots and routes
Widening horizons
Frameworks
The milestones
Developments before Linnaeus
Linnaeus and the Linnaean System
The evolution of formal English names
Inside the System
The matrix
Classic deviations
The names behind the names
Things in their place
Cardinal points
And the scientists didn’t always do so well
Warts and all
The names and the stories
New Horizons
North American names - Crossing the Great Divide
Australian names - Let’s go fossicking
Trinidadian names – The Tropical Trail
Journey’s End
Appendix: The Legends behind the Names
Bibliography
About the Author :
Ray Reedman combines his love of birds and travel with a deep understanding of language and history. As a retired Senior Master of a successful independent school Ray rekindled a life-long love of the natural world by teaching courses on ornithology and travelling the world to watch birds.
Review :
It’s difficult for me to assess this book as I am a complete bird name nut. I’ve spent a big chunk of my spare time over more than a decade looking at the people whose names appear in either the common or scientific names of vertebrates in general and birds in particular. Along the way I’ve been fascinated by local names, and historical changes much of which this excellent volume covers. There must be something in the human psyche that drives our apparent need for conformity and for several centuries ‘authorities’ have sought to impose uniformity. These days it’s the job of the IOC to regularise common names across continents so that Brits, yanks, kiwis et al can all recognise what species is being talked about. Personally I can’t see the point as Linnaeus and others invented a system we all use of scientific names so whether I call a bird a yaffle or a green woodpecker makes no odds so long as I use the scientific name everyone can read off the same hymn sheet. I think it’s a shame that national names are under attack and that regional names are losing out to the standard common names in fieldguides. Having said that birders, if not ornithologists are stubborn fellows likely to go on calling a Great Skua a bonxie or even inventing their own names like spawk for Sparrowhawk or barwit for bar-tailed godwit. The richness of names is something I celebrate along with the author. Moreover, his depth of research has taught me things I didn’t know and I thank him for it. If I have to delve deep for a criticism it would be that once out of this country the areas covered are patchy depending on the author’s experience. If I were an American, Aussie or South African I might take up the challenge to give more depth to the common names used there and the rest of the English speaking world too. But, that is a minor issue and the bulk of this volume is full of fascination and fact that a great many birders will learn from and love.
The names of birds – common, scientific and colloquial – almost form a poetry of their own, so varied and sometimes apparently inexplicable are they. This book admirably tries to pull together pretty much everything there is to know about ornithological nomenclature, looking at the stories behind names, the history of our naming systems, and the way that scientific names are assigned.
You’ll probably want to dip in and out of it, so dense is the volume of information that you’re presented with at times, but that’s no criticism – pretty much any 10-minute browse over a cup of tea will bring you up against a snippet of information that you’d never come across before. Take the name ‘scoter’, for example, described here as “the last unexplained common name of a British species”. Reedman’s research turns up a suggested derivation that makes much more sense than anything previously put forward – you’ll have to buy the book if you want to know what it is, though!
Long ago, before I became the bird-name raconteur I am today, I had an idle question. Why, I asked myself, did the loons come to be called loons in the English-speaking regions of North America when they were already known by the much more practical term divers back in the colonists’ mother country?
As the title suggests, Lapwings, Loons & Lousy Jacks has the answer (it’s to do with the evolution of language and the fact that colloquial names come in and out of currency, but I urge you to read this one for yourself.) It will also tell you where the word “plover” came from, what the “start” in Common Redstart means, why the Great Bustard got lumbered with its undignified moniker, and how half the small red-breasted birds on earth came to be called by the name Robin. Besides the vernacular names, there’s also a good amount of space devoted to untangling the roots of Latin nomenclature, a real boon to those of us without a classical education.
Author Ray Reedman writes from a British point of view, with some time devoted to the birds of North America, Australia and other former colonies but the bulk of the space given over to European species. Speaking of North America, it’s worth noting here that Reedman repeats the same story that I incautiously did about the Limpkin’s name and its gait; while fascinating, this book is not extensively documented, and probably cannot be taken as the absolute final word on the more controversial etymologies.
This caveat aside, Lapwings, Loons & Lousy Jacks is a fountain of lore that should definitely be sampled by anyone thirsty for bird name stories. Moreover, in tracing some of its more tangled tales it sheds valuable light on how both science and language work when confronted with a vast and unruly collection of living things – by which I mean both the birds and the people who want to identify them.
...Reedman’s book on the ‘how and why of bird names’ makes for good reading; informative, sassy, and here and there argumentative. Reedman does not refrain from giving his opinion about bird names and this just adds to the spice of the book. Buy it, read it, enjoy it, as I have done.
It is a playful, well informed personal meander through the technical stuff of ornithological nomenclature, explaining how and why bird names have evolved as they have. Yet it is also a book that takes pleasure in the ideals that humans have entertained about nature, and also in the delightful serendipity that has been at play when birds were christened.
... an eventful journey spanning the full spectrum from Greek mythology, through Chaucer to the undergarments of Queen Isabella. [...] It is an exceptional reminder of how much linguistic diversity, heritage and history is hidden in our bird names.
The work of Reedman was very extensive, he explored the confusions and contradictions in the naming of birds, involving about 10,000 species, but also the ongoing discoveries of ornithologists, the fashions of an age, the passions and opinions of individuals that were causes and effects of so many names. To read nearly 300 pages of this book is very easy and the contents show the very deep research carried out by the author in consulting many bibliographic sources, certainly more than those reported in the book, and present in his library. This very nice book deserves to be present in the library of the inquisitive scientist.
[A] very content-rich, informative and enjoyable book, well worth seeking out for those birdwatchers who are curious about naming etymologies.
This new book by Ray Reedman is a delightful addition to this subject, combining Ray’s love of birds, language and history... A fascinating read.
He writes as a birder, but also, as is very evident, as a man whose professional life has revolved around languages and literature, and I fear that in trying not to create a serious work of reference he has failed! I think I shall go back to this book again and again.
A book you’ll keep picking up to discover more.
These stories are narrative natural history at its finest! I don’t mean to be cliché, but if I’m honest, I have to say that one of the things I find most appealing about how the British approach natural history is their uncanny ability to make it simultaneously erudite and homey. ... Whether for education, reference, or simple personal enjoyment, Ray Reedman’s Lapwings, Loons and Lousy Jacks is a book that should most certainly be added to the libraries of naturalists, birders, and the generally curious. Its rich and well-composed content will well merit repeated reading – both in part and in full (indeed, I have already found myself repeatedly returning to its pages after my own first reading of it). Furthermore, it will stand the test of time, for even when some of the names Reedman explains have since changed (and as he so well explains, they someday will), Lapwings will remain as a point of reference to what – and more importantly why – they once were.
