Why dozens of birds are being renamed

The American Ornithological Society recently announced that they will be changing the names of all American birds named after people. Full implementation of the changes will probably take several years, as new names are determined for an initial 70 to 80 species, including local birds like Anna’s hummingbird, Bewick’s wren and Steller’s jay. The full details on how names will be chosen remain to be developed (a pilot process involving both expert and public input is scheduled for 2024), but the basic criteria is clear enough: Birds will be named for intrinsic traits and distinguishing characteristics rather than for humans.

Why are these changes happening? The original impetus, as with other renaming efforts in recent years, was an activist critique of honoring figures seen as incongruent with modern moral standards (owners of slaves, for instance). While it’s easy for people to get endlessly embroiled in arguments about whether changing bird names is an effective way of addressing racism, I think it’s ultimately quite commonsensical to name birds for visible and memorable features rather than for largely forgotten people. Consider the Hutton’s vireo, for instance. Almost no one knows who the bird was named after. William Rich Hutton, a 19th-century engineer and part-time bird collector, didn’t even want the honor, writing that “it goes against my principles to name after individuals unless for important scientific service.”

So, why should we feel obligated to keep this name, rather than adopting something more useful? Something like “oak vireo” could indicate their favored habitat, or something like “Pacific vireo” could recognize their western distribution. (Personally, I also like to discard the snobby Latin “vireo” in favor of a traditional English-language name that means the same thing: I would call them “oak greenlets.”)

The Bay Area is regularly visited by 20-some birds whose names will eventually be changed. Some of these are common and widespread, such as Anna’s hummingbird or Bewick’s wren. Personally, I like both of these two names. Anna was the wife of a wealthy bird collector and not really of ornithological importance, but using a kind and lovely woman’s first name — so the reports describe her — strikes me as rather sweet compared to the prevailing world of male surnames. Bewick was one of the greatest of bird artists and generally considered a genial and humble man. But I have to admit that most newcomers to birds would probably find it easier to learn “red-headed hummingbird” and “long-tailed wren” or the like. These are names that people might spontaneously come up with upon seeing the birds, and are, in fact, literal translations of names currently used in Mexico. (For those who are attached to the old names, it is worth noting that the international, scientific names of birds will not be changed and will often continue to recognize the same eponyms: Calypte anna and Thryomanes bewickii will remain as they are.)

Many more examples can be given and potential new names speculated upon. Townsend’s warbler could be renamed “black and yellow warbler” or “black-cheeked warbler.” Wilson’s warbler might be more usefully be identified as “black-capped warbler.” Nuttall’s woodpecker could become the “northern ladder-backed woodpecker” to recognize both its obvious visual trait and its close relationship to the existing “ladder-backed woodpecker” in the south. Cooper’s hawk could be called the “round-tailed hawk,” a translation of one of their Spanish names and a nod to a key distinguishing feature. Brewer’s blackbird could recover one of their traditional names “glossy blackbird” or “satin blackbird” in recognition of the shiny purplish head of the males.

People are used to the existing names. I myself am fond of several of them, and enjoy learning the history embedded in them. But in the long run, I think that well-chosen new names will almost certainly average out as beneficial to the project of having more people become familiar with their local birds. You don’t even have to wait for official approval. In my family, I constantly resuscitate the old-folk names, calling scrub-jays “blue squawkers,” California towhees “brown chippies,” and so on. I always recommend that people find the names that ring true to them, no matter what the books say. Now the ornithologists are starting to catch on to the wisdom of names that are vivid and alive.

Jack Gedney’s On the Wing runs every other Monday. He is a co-owner of Wild Birds Unlimited in Novato and author of “The Private Lives of Public Birds.” You can reach him at jack@natureinnovato.com.