Our first encounters with living things in our lives started with Mom or Dad telling us what it was called – its common name. And for me, those are the ones that I remember best. But, for other folks, those names may not be the same as mine. The shrub I call Mamou is Coral Bean to others. Same plant, with one scientific name, Erythrina herbacea.
Alternatively, a common name may apply to two different species. As a recent friend pointed out, the common name I used for an invasive shrub, Coralberry, is the same for a native plant in her part of the U.S. Thus, the problem with common names.
The multiple common names applied to plants and animals across their ranges led naturalists of the 18th Century to devise an acceptable means for naming organisms that would limit confusion over common names. The Swedish biologist, Carl Linnaeus, formalized a binomial system of nomenclature that became the accepted method still in use today. Each organism is assigned a genus and species name – a unique combination that is accepted worldwide.
But, a system for selecting a single common name for plants or animals does not really exist for most groups. Established scientific groups may publish a list of the common names applied to the species they deal with or attempt to assign an official common name. As a fisheries science major, I referenced the Common and Scientific Names of Fishes from the United States, Canada, and Mexico, published every few years by the American Fisheries Society. I learned that there were more than 20 common names for Sac-a-lait (Crappie) alone!
The birding community does attempt to do better, often listing a single official name for each species, but that has and likely will continue to change over time. Adding confusion is when species are split into multiple species, requiring new common names for both, or merged into one. What I learned as Yellow-rumped Warbler (what I affectionately also call Butter Butts) has alternately been split into Audubon’s and Myrtle Warblers and back again. Like the weather, it will likely change again, but that is how science progresses.
My purpose here is to share that although common names can be frustrating for scientists, naturalists, and non-scientists alike, they can be a window into the culture of the people and places where they are used. Cajuns have their own French and Spanish-inspired common names, as do other cultures for the same organism. My Choupique is someone else’s Grinnel, or Bowfin. They are all Amia calva.
And as many (OK most) of my former Master Naturalists will attest, learning the scientific name of all those plants was a pain, but necessary – at lease for the final exam. During one of the last field trips of the original class I held, I knew the task had taken root (pardon the pun). As I passed a plant, we had seen many times, I said “OK, everyone should know this one as Sweet Leaf or Horse Sugar, right?” From the back of the line, came the confident voice of my friend Gerry, “You mean Symplocos tinctoria don’t you Mark!”
My job was complete! Gerry will forever be known as “Sweet Leaf” to me (pardon the pun).
Of course, scientific names also change, based on detailed research, review and publication by established scientific organizations. The old names become synonyms, helping those of us that care to understand the lineage. I may still use an older scientific name, but it can be linked to its new name for the same organism. Not so easy for common names.
Embrace the challenge of common names. Learning about what they mean to others can be fun.
Hope to see you in our great outdoors!
