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Mrs. Moreau's Warbler: How Birds Got Their Names
Swallow and starling, puffin and peregrine, blue tit and blackcap. We use these names so often that few of us ever pause to wonder about their origins. What do they mean? Where did they come from? And who created them?
The words we use to name birds are some of the most lyrical and evocative in the English language. They also tell incredible stories: of epic expeditions, fierce battles between rival ornithologists, momentous historical events and touching romantic gestures.
Through fascinating encounters with birds, and the rich cast of characters who came up with their names, in Mrs Moreau's Warbler Stephen Moss takes us on a remarkable journey through time. From when humans and birds first shared the earth to our fraught present-day coexistence, Moss shows how these names reveal as much about ourselves and our relationship with the natural world as about the creatures they describe.
The words we use to name birds are some of the most lyrical and evocative in the English language. They also tell incredible stories: of epic expeditions, fierce battles between rival ornithologists, momentous historical events and touching romantic gestures.
Through fascinating encounters with birds, and the rich cast of characters who came up with their names, in Mrs Moreau's Warbler Stephen Moss takes us on a remarkable journey through time. From when humans and birds first shared the earth to our fraught present-day coexistence, Moss shows how these names reveal as much about ourselves and our relationship with the natural world as about the creatures they describe.
357 pages, Hardcover
First published May 1, 2018
43 people are currently reading
698 people want to read
About the author
Stephen Moss
75 books145 followersLibrarian Note: there is more than one author with this name in the Goodreads database.
Stephen Moss is a naturalist, broadcaster, television producer and author. In a distinguished career at the BBC Natural History Unit his credits included Springwatch, Birds Britannia and The Nature of Britain. His books include The Robin: A Biography, A Bird in the Bush, The Bumper Book of Nature, Wild Hares and Hummingbirds and Wild Kingdom. He is also Senior Lecturer in Nature and Travel Writing at Bath Spa University. Originally from London, he lives with his family on the Somerset Levels, and is President of the Somerset Wildlife Trust. He is a regular contributor to the Guardian.
Stephen Moss is a naturalist, broadcaster, television producer and author. In a distinguished career at the BBC Natural History Unit his credits included Springwatch, Birds Britannia and The Nature of Britain. His books include The Robin: A Biography, A Bird in the Bush, The Bumper Book of Nature, Wild Hares and Hummingbirds and Wild Kingdom. He is also Senior Lecturer in Nature and Travel Writing at Bath Spa University. Originally from London, he lives with his family on the Somerset Levels, and is President of the Somerset Wildlife Trust. He is a regular contributor to the Guardian.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews
February 6, 2020
Explores the evolution of the English language and the etymology of bird names (primarly those found in Britain, though birds native to Australia and India are also discussed). Stephen Moss's religious beliefs pervade the book and he makes the unfortunate choice to reference Wikipedia; both actions call into question the scientific merit of Mrs Moreau's Warbler.
During the brief arctic summer, when Ross's gulls gather to breed on the rapidly thawing tundra, their normally snow-white breast acquires a delicate pinkish tinge, almost as if the bird is blushing at its newfound sexual potency. But few people have ever seen a Ross's gull in all its rosy glory. Indeed, given that this species lives in some of the remotest regions of the planet, few people have ever seen one at all.
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Many people who have never seen or heard a skylark (which, given its rapid decline over the past fifty years is probably quite a few), may nevertheless refer to the bird in phrases such as 'up with the lark', 'sing like a lark' and 'larking about'. The idea of 'having a lark' - meaning to have fun - is thought to derive from ninetheenth-century naval slang, when sailers might mess about high in the rigging of a ship - just as a lark hangs like a dust-speck up in the sky.
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Many centuries ago, [house martins] chose to throw in their lot with us. They made their nests on our homes and in our outbuildings, and fed in the fields where we grow our crops. In the process, they became some of our most faimliar and best-loved birds. Today, though, they face an uncertain future, with global climate change now adding to the problems already brought about by intensive agriculture, pollution and habitat loss. It does not feel too extreme to say that we have betrayed them.
December 2, 2018
I enjoyed this book although it wasn't about what I expected. I thought it was going to detail various expeditions, trips and bird-spotting habits of yesteryear, and to a degree it was. However, mostly we look at etymology, the evolution of language in Britain (from Proto-Indo-European), the folk names birds had in different regions and who got to name newly-discovered (meaning shot, when there were no good binoculars and cameras) birds. From this we proceed to look at birds named after persons - I have never seen the term eponymous used so many times. And how birds are constantly being re-classified, rearranged into sub-species and even renamed.
The author tells us about a few of his own birding trips, including a one-day list contest of migrating birds, and a trek to search for the bird of the title, so this warbler is eponymous in two senses. I note the wry 'little brown job' bird type so commonly spotted; this is like the botanists' 'god-darn yellow flower'.
The linguistics are more easily followed than some might expect - Anglo-Saxons were invaded by Vikings who brought new Germanic words to Old English. Then French speakers came with the Norman Conquest. As the author points out, the languages melded and gained equal status, which is highly unusual. So English today has many synonyms such as wed and marry, kingly and royal, pretty and beautiful. Although the author doesn't labour the point, the words I placed second are clearly French in origin, and have no similarity to the first, more Germanic words. But the birds were named by the people who saw them first, and names varied up and down the country for the same species.
The author does take a few things for granted in his readership, such as understanding how and why the natural historians classified species and gave them Latin names. He credits them with a visual knowledge of many bird species and with reasonably good geographical knowledge, as there are no photos and no maps. Well, we can Google anything we're not sure about, and this includes pictures of birds beyond the scope of a book of birds in Northern Europe. On the other hand in the section on raptors, rather than discuss trophic levels and pesticides building up in the food web, we're treated to an explanation of why the tabletop football game Subbuteo is named after the Hobby. Great fun.
This book would suit bird-lovers, anyone studying nature or etymology, and I recommend pairing it with Coves of Departure by John Seibert Farnsworth, The Urban Birder by David Lindo, Birding Without Borders by Noah Stryker. Notes P317 - 340 which include odd names, like the lachrymose mountain ranger. Index P341 - 357. I counted 38 names which I could be sure were female.
I borrowed a copy from the Royal Dublin Society Library. This is an unbiased review.
The author tells us about a few of his own birding trips, including a one-day list contest of migrating birds, and a trek to search for the bird of the title, so this warbler is eponymous in two senses. I note the wry 'little brown job' bird type so commonly spotted; this is like the botanists' 'god-darn yellow flower'.
The linguistics are more easily followed than some might expect - Anglo-Saxons were invaded by Vikings who brought new Germanic words to Old English. Then French speakers came with the Norman Conquest. As the author points out, the languages melded and gained equal status, which is highly unusual. So English today has many synonyms such as wed and marry, kingly and royal, pretty and beautiful. Although the author doesn't labour the point, the words I placed second are clearly French in origin, and have no similarity to the first, more Germanic words. But the birds were named by the people who saw them first, and names varied up and down the country for the same species.
The author does take a few things for granted in his readership, such as understanding how and why the natural historians classified species and gave them Latin names. He credits them with a visual knowledge of many bird species and with reasonably good geographical knowledge, as there are no photos and no maps. Well, we can Google anything we're not sure about, and this includes pictures of birds beyond the scope of a book of birds in Northern Europe. On the other hand in the section on raptors, rather than discuss trophic levels and pesticides building up in the food web, we're treated to an explanation of why the tabletop football game Subbuteo is named after the Hobby. Great fun.
This book would suit bird-lovers, anyone studying nature or etymology, and I recommend pairing it with Coves of Departure by John Seibert Farnsworth, The Urban Birder by David Lindo, Birding Without Borders by Noah Stryker. Notes P317 - 340 which include odd names, like the lachrymose mountain ranger. Index P341 - 357. I counted 38 names which I could be sure were female.
I borrowed a copy from the Royal Dublin Society Library. This is an unbiased review.
April 9, 2021
As I am sitting here early in the morning writing this review I am watching a couple of blue tits feeding themselves from the coconut that is hanging outside my office window. They are fascinating little birds to watch, especially their acrobatics on the feeders. But where did their name come from? I can understand the blue part and the top plumage is a lovely sky blue However, there are also yellow and green feathers. What about the tit part? (Stop sniggering at the back). It turns out it means small.
Long time birder, Stephen Moss has been fascinated with the origins of birds manes since he first came across a bird from Africa called Mrs Moreau’s Warbler, a bird that he first came across in a weekly magazine called Birds of the World. It would drop onto his doormat early on a Saturday morning and he would spend the rest of the day engrossed in its contents. There was a clue in its Latin name, Scepomycter winifredae, it was named after someone called Winifred Moreau. But who was she? And how did she come to have a bird named after her? It was a story that he would keep returning to and it was also a bird that he hoped to travel all the way to Tanzania to see one day.
There are some birds where the common name that they have ended up with seems obvious, blackbird for example. But other birds are black, like ravens and crows, why are they not blackbirds too? It turns out that the explanation behind this is not much to do with the actual birds rather it comes from language and more specifically the melding of two languages, Germanic English and Norman French and how the meanings changed over time.
It is a natural thing for humans to want to label the things that they see around them each day. Because of this, bird names have not just come from language but have been named after people and places as well as their habits and how birds have also named other things, like a once-popular football game.
Moss’s writing is as good as ever. He mixes well-researched facts with personal stories and interesting anecdotes tracing the origins of the names of the birds that we see every day. Whilst it is not a comprehensive guide to every single one of the 10,000 or so species there is enough in here for the reader to begin their own searches for the bird names that fascinate them.
Long time birder, Stephen Moss has been fascinated with the origins of birds manes since he first came across a bird from Africa called Mrs Moreau’s Warbler, a bird that he first came across in a weekly magazine called Birds of the World. It would drop onto his doormat early on a Saturday morning and he would spend the rest of the day engrossed in its contents. There was a clue in its Latin name, Scepomycter winifredae, it was named after someone called Winifred Moreau. But who was she? And how did she come to have a bird named after her? It was a story that he would keep returning to and it was also a bird that he hoped to travel all the way to Tanzania to see one day.
There are some birds where the common name that they have ended up with seems obvious, blackbird for example. But other birds are black, like ravens and crows, why are they not blackbirds too? It turns out that the explanation behind this is not much to do with the actual birds rather it comes from language and more specifically the melding of two languages, Germanic English and Norman French and how the meanings changed over time.
It is a natural thing for humans to want to label the things that they see around them each day. Because of this, bird names have not just come from language but have been named after people and places as well as their habits and how birds have also named other things, like a once-popular football game.
Moss’s writing is as good as ever. He mixes well-researched facts with personal stories and interesting anecdotes tracing the origins of the names of the birds that we see every day. Whilst it is not a comprehensive guide to every single one of the 10,000 or so species there is enough in here for the reader to begin their own searches for the bird names that fascinate them.
May 8, 2019
3.5 stars.
A fun book that follows the naming of birds from the very beginnings of English through to today's still-ever-changing world of species separation. It's perfect for someone who's a birder and an English language nerd.
My only peeve about this was that it almost solely focused on British birds (which makes sense, since Moss is from the UK). There were just too many species thrown at me to Google each one of them to see what they looked like (as there are no pictures in the book), and it also made it impossible to relate to the little anecdotes about how "all birders can relate to seeing/hearing Very British Bird every morning."
It does, in a way, prove the point about how folk and regional names for birds can make birding internationally a very confusing subject!
A fun book that follows the naming of birds from the very beginnings of English through to today's still-ever-changing world of species separation. It's perfect for someone who's a birder and an English language nerd.
My only peeve about this was that it almost solely focused on British birds (which makes sense, since Moss is from the UK). There were just too many species thrown at me to Google each one of them to see what they looked like (as there are no pictures in the book), and it also made it impossible to relate to the little anecdotes about how "all birders can relate to seeing/hearing Very British Bird every morning."
It does, in a way, prove the point about how folk and regional names for birds can make birding internationally a very confusing subject!
April 12, 2019
Birds! Language! Old and middle English!
Though I see that point of "naming is taming", a possible diminishment of the wild creature in itself, nevertheless, I am with the camp that thinks names are valuable doors to perception and appreciation: bulbul, kolea, and ou, bananaquits and sapphire-throated hummingbirds . . .
And hurray to Moss for giving another life to Winifred Moreau's name.
Though I see that point of "naming is taming", a possible diminishment of the wild creature in itself, nevertheless, I am with the camp that thinks names are valuable doors to perception and appreciation: bulbul, kolea, and ou, bananaquits and sapphire-throated hummingbirds . . .
And hurray to Moss for giving another life to Winifred Moreau's name.
April 24, 2020
Stephen Moss is fast becoming one of my absolute favourite nature writers. When I spotted an online copy of Mrs Moreau's Warbler: How Birds Got Their Names on my library app, therefore, I borrowed it immediately. I had only read a couple of his titles before this one, but find his largely bird-focused books fascinating and beautifully written.
The naming of species has always interested me, and as far as I am aware, I have only read books in the past which touch upon the process. In Mrs Moreau's Warbler, Moss has been far more thorough. His narrative is split into several separate sections, which range from 'History and Science' to 'Tomorrow Never Knows: The Future of Bird Names'.
Moss makes his standpoint clear from the outset. He writes: 'I believe that by giving linguistic labels to the multifarious wonders of life around us - by watching, seeing, focusing on and separating one organism from another, closely related species - we are then better able to understand and appreciate the natural world in all its glorious variety and confusion.' He then sets out the parameters of the history which he will take us as readers through in the remainder of the book; we span the period from the Anglo Saxon invaders, who began to give names to birds, to a glimpse into the possible future of naming practices.
Moss goes on to write about the people who lived before the Anglo Saxons, who called some of the bird species by names which we still use today. Moss speculates that goose is 'possibly the oldest of all the names we still use today, and may go all the way back to the language spoken on the steppes of eastern Europe and western Asia more than five thousand years ago.' From this point onward, Moss delves deeply into the evolution of language, and how bird names have changed slightly over the centuries. He looks at the onomatopoeic origins of some bird names - jackdaw, for instance.
Many bird names do not, comments Moss, 'make perfect sense'. This is primarily because '... they were coined by a whole range of different people, over many thousands of years, from the prehistoric era to the present day.' The process of naming birds is a collective effort, if you will. Throughout Mrs Moreau's Warbler, Moss discusses the origins of the English language, before moving into the specificity of bird naming. He discusses advances within the binomial system introduced by Swedish botanist Linnaeus, and later DNA-based changes in the classifications of birds.
In the introduction to this volume, Moss writes that the origin of some bird names 'can seem obvious, but may not be quite as straightforward as first appears'. He goes on to say that 'broadly speaking, it is reasonable to assume that most common and familiar birds were named a long time ago, by ordinary people - hence the term "folk" names - while scarce and unfamiliar birds were named much more recently, by professional ornithologists.' These 'professionals' began to name birds during the seventeenth century; these were largely based on the locality of the birds, and their distinguishing features - the black-tailed godwit, and the pink-footed goose, for instance. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, there emerged a new category of bird names - those named after people. We thus have the likes of Montagu's harrier and Leach's storm petrel as well as, of course, Mrs Moreau's warbler.
As in Moss' specific bird species biographies, he quotes other authors and experts throughout. Their observations blend seamlessly with his own. He also weaves in his own experiences of birdwatching with the more factual details. One cannot help but get the sense that Mrs Moreau's Warbler has been meticulously researched by someone so passionate about his subjects; indeed, the extensive notes at the end of the volume alone are proof of this.
Moss' books are wonderful, both for those just getting into nature writing, and others who are well versed in all it has to offer. Mrs Moreau's Warbler is comprehensive in what it covers, and Moss' writing is a joy to read. This book is a beautiful piece of escapism, and it immediately absorbs one in its patient, peaceful prose.
Unlike his bird biographies, there is far more scientific information included here, so a little more concentration is required at times; however, this is well worth it. Mrs Moreau's Warbler is thorough and highly instructive, whilst still being accessible to the general reader. I shall end this review with one of the resounding beliefs of the author: 'To me, the diversity of bird names is not an inconvenience but a wonder.'
The naming of species has always interested me, and as far as I am aware, I have only read books in the past which touch upon the process. In Mrs Moreau's Warbler, Moss has been far more thorough. His narrative is split into several separate sections, which range from 'History and Science' to 'Tomorrow Never Knows: The Future of Bird Names'.
Moss makes his standpoint clear from the outset. He writes: 'I believe that by giving linguistic labels to the multifarious wonders of life around us - by watching, seeing, focusing on and separating one organism from another, closely related species - we are then better able to understand and appreciate the natural world in all its glorious variety and confusion.' He then sets out the parameters of the history which he will take us as readers through in the remainder of the book; we span the period from the Anglo Saxon invaders, who began to give names to birds, to a glimpse into the possible future of naming practices.
Moss goes on to write about the people who lived before the Anglo Saxons, who called some of the bird species by names which we still use today. Moss speculates that goose is 'possibly the oldest of all the names we still use today, and may go all the way back to the language spoken on the steppes of eastern Europe and western Asia more than five thousand years ago.' From this point onward, Moss delves deeply into the evolution of language, and how bird names have changed slightly over the centuries. He looks at the onomatopoeic origins of some bird names - jackdaw, for instance.
Many bird names do not, comments Moss, 'make perfect sense'. This is primarily because '... they were coined by a whole range of different people, over many thousands of years, from the prehistoric era to the present day.' The process of naming birds is a collective effort, if you will. Throughout Mrs Moreau's Warbler, Moss discusses the origins of the English language, before moving into the specificity of bird naming. He discusses advances within the binomial system introduced by Swedish botanist Linnaeus, and later DNA-based changes in the classifications of birds.
In the introduction to this volume, Moss writes that the origin of some bird names 'can seem obvious, but may not be quite as straightforward as first appears'. He goes on to say that 'broadly speaking, it is reasonable to assume that most common and familiar birds were named a long time ago, by ordinary people - hence the term "folk" names - while scarce and unfamiliar birds were named much more recently, by professional ornithologists.' These 'professionals' began to name birds during the seventeenth century; these were largely based on the locality of the birds, and their distinguishing features - the black-tailed godwit, and the pink-footed goose, for instance. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, there emerged a new category of bird names - those named after people. We thus have the likes of Montagu's harrier and Leach's storm petrel as well as, of course, Mrs Moreau's warbler.
As in Moss' specific bird species biographies, he quotes other authors and experts throughout. Their observations blend seamlessly with his own. He also weaves in his own experiences of birdwatching with the more factual details. One cannot help but get the sense that Mrs Moreau's Warbler has been meticulously researched by someone so passionate about his subjects; indeed, the extensive notes at the end of the volume alone are proof of this.
Moss' books are wonderful, both for those just getting into nature writing, and others who are well versed in all it has to offer. Mrs Moreau's Warbler is comprehensive in what it covers, and Moss' writing is a joy to read. This book is a beautiful piece of escapism, and it immediately absorbs one in its patient, peaceful prose.
Unlike his bird biographies, there is far more scientific information included here, so a little more concentration is required at times; however, this is well worth it. Mrs Moreau's Warbler is thorough and highly instructive, whilst still being accessible to the general reader. I shall end this review with one of the resounding beliefs of the author: 'To me, the diversity of bird names is not an inconvenience but a wonder.'
August 18, 2019
Birding is serious, bonkers, and seriously bonkers. Stephen Moss's book is a mine of information, but is unevenly written. Some chapters are far more interesting than others and there are times when the style is strained. Moss is best when he unravels a story from a name, such as the battle over "dunnock". Emily Bronte got it right! Many get it wrong-- it is not a hedge sparrow. The most enjoyable way to read the book is by dipping randomly and seeing what tit bit emerges.
July 4, 2019
Death by footnotes. If something is worth writing then it is worth working it into the main body of the text, rather than constantly breaking up the flow of the prose. Otherwise, an interesting book.
August 15, 2020
Oh my goodness that was such a brilliant and fascinating book. I’m really sad to have got to the end of it and forced myself to savour the last few chapters as the pages left became fewer.
Mrs Moreau’s Warbler combines two of my favourite things in life; etymology and nature to explore how birds got the names they have been given. Each page is jam packed with interesting details on the birds themselves, language and culture. It’s incredibly well written too so even if you didn’t have an interest it wouldn’t seem very dry.
Also an extra star if it was possible to give it another for the lists of birds at the back of the book buried between the notes and index- really ended the book well!
Mrs Moreau’s Warbler combines two of my favourite things in life; etymology and nature to explore how birds got the names they have been given. Each page is jam packed with interesting details on the birds themselves, language and culture. It’s incredibly well written too so even if you didn’t have an interest it wouldn’t seem very dry.
Also an extra star if it was possible to give it another for the lists of birds at the back of the book buried between the notes and index- really ended the book well!
September 23, 2024
A great book which combines the history of English and some social history through the lens of ornithology. The author was able to write about this potentially quite dull topic in a surprisingly page turning way. He did this by combining a wealth of anecdotes with accounts of significant figures in the history of birding. It was sad to hear that nearly all of the early enthusiasts (and some of the later ones) used firearms instead of binoculars to take a closer look but, that unpleasant detail aside, the stories of how birds got their names, and how they're still changing, was really interesting.
July 29, 2020
A delightful read for those of us who love birds, language and history, for Moss weaves those all together in a charming narrative. I especially loved his footnotes and the exquisite epilogue. I bought the book when I heard Moss interviewed on a birding podcast, and he is just as engaging on the page as he was in that interview. Lovely!
August 5, 2020
2.5 stars
I am really sad that this book wasnt what I was hoping for. I wanted to know information about where birds go their names in a fun and interesting manner (like the front cover!).
Sadly what I got was rather dry with often bad writing and boring additions.
This book could have been shorter and been MUCH better. Not for me unfortunately!
I am really sad that this book wasnt what I was hoping for. I wanted to know information about where birds go their names in a fun and interesting manner (like the front cover!).
Sadly what I got was rather dry with often bad writing and boring additions.
This book could have been shorter and been MUCH better. Not for me unfortunately!
April 4, 2023
Fascinating read for birders and non-birders alike. As an American birder, I enjoyed learning more about European species that I don’t see often.
Although the footnotes were very interesting, I found it distracting to break my reading stride to scan down to the bottom of the page for the remarks.
Although the footnotes were very interesting, I found it distracting to break my reading stride to scan down to the bottom of the page for the remarks.
February 13, 2019
Enjoyable and interesting, I particularly liked the origins of some bird names going back to old languages.
August 2, 2024
This is a curate’s egg of a book.
Good points: ancient etymologies and folk stories at the start of the book, together with the histories of famous folk who impacted on the study of our feathered friends. Footnotes and endnotes are packed so folk can make their own mind up by doing the research. Various books, papers, personal letters, conversations and the odd Wikipedia article are in there.
Not so good points: Chapter 7 can be safely skipped: I’m not sure I really cared enough about modern debates between US and UK ornithologists to plough through whether we have loons, skuas, or whatever. The scientific names of the things is the important point: all else is incidental. I do note in this debate that whilst the US and UK chaps have their squabbles there is no mention of the names used by local folk for birds not native to UK or US territories. I also note that the “old squaw” bird had had little investigation as to the veracity of its name based on it being the receptacle for the soul of departed First Nation women. Hohum.
Whilst the footnotes and endnotes are interesting, it might have been better to pick EITHER rather than BOTH. The flow of reading can get bitty with the constant dropping down to the page, or wondering whether a footnote ought to have been an endnote instead. Some of the footnotes span facing pages, which indicates they ought to have been endnotes.
Interesting points: index is good; interesting section on birds names listed as to feature - colour, body part, positive / negative perceptions of names and so on. I might have added “birds whose name is based on non-English parts” like the kookaburra together with a section on the etymologies of birds not mentioned in the book’s text.
Interesting to dip into, and fascinating for the first 50-60%.
Bought at Seven Fables, Dulverton ; signed copy.
Good points: ancient etymologies and folk stories at the start of the book, together with the histories of famous folk who impacted on the study of our feathered friends. Footnotes and endnotes are packed so folk can make their own mind up by doing the research. Various books, papers, personal letters, conversations and the odd Wikipedia article are in there.
Not so good points: Chapter 7 can be safely skipped: I’m not sure I really cared enough about modern debates between US and UK ornithologists to plough through whether we have loons, skuas, or whatever. The scientific names of the things is the important point: all else is incidental. I do note in this debate that whilst the US and UK chaps have their squabbles there is no mention of the names used by local folk for birds not native to UK or US territories. I also note that the “old squaw” bird had had little investigation as to the veracity of its name based on it being the receptacle for the soul of departed First Nation women. Hohum.
Whilst the footnotes and endnotes are interesting, it might have been better to pick EITHER rather than BOTH. The flow of reading can get bitty with the constant dropping down to the page, or wondering whether a footnote ought to have been an endnote instead. Some of the footnotes span facing pages, which indicates they ought to have been endnotes.
Interesting points: index is good; interesting section on birds names listed as to feature - colour, body part, positive / negative perceptions of names and so on. I might have added “birds whose name is based on non-English parts” like the kookaburra together with a section on the etymologies of birds not mentioned in the book’s text.
Interesting to dip into, and fascinating for the first 50-60%.
Bought at Seven Fables, Dulverton ; signed copy.
June 11, 2020
Congenial and Idiosyncratic
Almost completely lacking in any sort of organization, and fluttering about from bird name to bird name, this eminently browseable and generally amusing book is a real hoot.
While the blurbs emphasize expeditions, rival ornithologists, romantic gestures, and the like, (and there are lots of extended bits about all of those things), the book is mostly an exploration of language. How it evolves and changes, and how the names of birds have evolved and changed or remained constant over the centuries. The long essay about where "goose", (our oldest bird name), came from and how and why it survived is worth the price of the book right there.
Moss is a fine and engaging companion, and avoids twee rhapsodizing about birds. His style is more along the lines of slightly disorganized and rambling enthusiasm, and when that's coupled, as it is here, with a dry sense of humor, the result is truly delightful.
(Please note that I received a free advance ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
Almost completely lacking in any sort of organization, and fluttering about from bird name to bird name, this eminently browseable and generally amusing book is a real hoot.
While the blurbs emphasize expeditions, rival ornithologists, romantic gestures, and the like, (and there are lots of extended bits about all of those things), the book is mostly an exploration of language. How it evolves and changes, and how the names of birds have evolved and changed or remained constant over the centuries. The long essay about where "goose", (our oldest bird name), came from and how and why it survived is worth the price of the book right there.
Moss is a fine and engaging companion, and avoids twee rhapsodizing about birds. His style is more along the lines of slightly disorganized and rambling enthusiasm, and when that's coupled, as it is here, with a dry sense of humor, the result is truly delightful.
(Please note that I received a free advance ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
December 14, 2023
In terms of the book's knowledge it is superb, the origins of bird names are set out clearly, thoughtfully and feel handed down like folklore. I especially enjoyed finding out how recent the name blackbird was! I liked also the idea that our perception of what a bird looks / reminds us of can be more impactful then scientific descriptors of it, and that often the 'folk' name will outlive any alternative scientific label.
From a postcolonial perspective, I did feel like the book was insensitive in its idealisation of past colonial life style. Given than a lot of the discovers of birds were explorers / participants of colonisation, I thought the book parochial in its presentation of such people. It was focused on celebrating these individuals as discoverers / namers of birds, lauding their travels so much so that it felt very historically ignorant. I don't think this was the intention of the text but would've been nice for a little more awareness of the colonial context in which many birds were given British names / named after explorers, and been more critical towards this.
From a postcolonial perspective, I did feel like the book was insensitive in its idealisation of past colonial life style. Given than a lot of the discovers of birds were explorers / participants of colonisation, I thought the book parochial in its presentation of such people. It was focused on celebrating these individuals as discoverers / namers of birds, lauding their travels so much so that it felt very historically ignorant. I don't think this was the intention of the text but would've been nice for a little more awareness of the colonial context in which many birds were given British names / named after explorers, and been more critical towards this.
February 9, 2019
For Anglophile bird nerds only! A quite charming, rambling trawl through ornithological history by a dedicated twitcher (a birder who travels widely and expensively to spot birds, especially in places they're not supposed to be) and nature journalist. While he does tell some traveling tales of his own, a large part is devoted to linguistic and etymologic development of what we have chosen to call the birds around us, as far back as some thousands of years, and across the continents. In case you're wondering, one of the very earliest words for a particular bird is "ghans" or "ghas"... for goose, and Moss tracks the name across languages and cultures. He scatters gems like the scientific name for the hoopoe (pronounced hoo-poo, much to the pleasure of small boys): Upupa epops - can't you hear Ella Fitzgerald scat-singing that? Overall, a delightful read - I just wish he'd come across the pond and do something similar for North American bird lingo: thunderpumper, anyone?
December 23, 2019
A brilliant book looking at the way birds (especially UK birds) are named, and the stories behind the names. There is so much lovely and fascinating detail here such as the lives behind the names Hume, Franklin, Sabine and Ross (and, of course, Moreau); onomatopoeic names (such as kite and jackdaw); names derived from Old French (such as hobby), Old English (kite) and other languages. I don't like his occasional self-aggrandisement (who seriously cites their own undergrad thesis?!) and I'm surprised that magpie or turkey weren't included, or names other than robin based on first-names. Nor was there an explanation of collective nouns (another book perhaps?) or mention of Operation Yellowhammer's (the UK government's attempt to plan for a no-deal Brexit in 2018). Despite these tiny omissions I think it's a great addition to the shelves of anyone remotely interested in birds (corrupted from the Anglo-Saxon, 'brid') and birdwatching (a word which first appeared in print in 1901!).
January 13, 2026
The early chapters on ancient etymologies and folk names were the most interesting, surprisingly so, since I didn’t expect etymology to hold my attention as much as it did. I was somewhat less engaged by the discussion of eponymous names, though there were still several nuggets of interest. The final chapter was where the book lost me the most. Some of the final sections felt ranty, and I didn’t really agree with some of the author’s points. Overall, I greatly enjoyed the first half of the book, found the middle section reasonably interesting, and only took issue with a few portions of the final chapter.
October 1, 2020
I found this book utterly fascinating and delightful. As a linguaphile and bird lover, Moss' book was a perfect exploration of the overlap between language and birds. I especially liked learning which bird names have remained intact from ancient times. I learned about the era of eponyms and now understand better which birds were "discovered" when, simply by their name. I found myself wondering if there is a U.S. bird version, since Mr. Moss lives in the UK and the focus is on birds there. An excellent read in support of the current discussions about renaming birds. Highly recommended!
December 26, 2019
A very interesting book which I will go back to as difficult to take it all in - in one go! I have always wondered about where bird’s names come from and this mostly answers this. It also discusses language and the dominance of the English language in naming! It even discusses the future of the names which is really the future of the birds themselves and how many species there actually are! The appendix which groups the names into categories is good for quizzing!!
June 20, 2020
This book is a bit specialist - for anyone interested in ornithology, language, and the history of science. Entertaining discourse on the naming of birds, from the oldest ("goose" deriving from the Proto-Indo-European language of the Steppes 5,000 years ago), to the most recent (DNA research changing the scientific names of many of our most common birds). Also has some diverting tales of eccentric birders :)
July 11, 2021
The first part of this book which dealt with etymology and the history of bird names was interesting I thought, and I thought the book was going to be about that for the most part! However, the middle third was quite dull to me, not being a birder myself. I've felt this way with other taxonomy books I've read, and this one, though lively in voice, wasn't very gripping to me. The ending was also alright, but I guess I just can't get that excited about birding.
February 3, 2023
A surprising gem of a book. It turned out to be a book on linguistics in the guise of a bird book. Learned many fascinating things about language through bird nomenclature and general ornithological observations.
It got me into looking up for different bird sounds as the book progressed. I was expecting Darwin's finches to come up at some point; they didn't.
All in all, a lovely read about how languages have evolved. And leaves you with a deep sense of awe towards nature.
It got me into looking up for different bird sounds as the book progressed. I was expecting Darwin's finches to come up at some point; they didn't.
All in all, a lovely read about how languages have evolved. And leaves you with a deep sense of awe towards nature.
February 13, 2020
Written by a Brit so of course very slanted towards British birds. I didn’t quite realize that was going to be the case but I still enjoyed the book with its historical tidbits of some of the early bird collectors. The epilogue of the author’s trip to the Usumbara Mountains to search for the bird of the book title was an appropriate ending which I especially liked.
May 4, 2022
I didn't realize when I picked this up that the author was British and the birds were (mostly) not birds found in the United States. Despite that, I enjoyed reading about the various birds and how they got their names. This was more about etymology than it was about birding and I found that enjoyable.
January 9, 2023
Wanted to like this book but again I find that the thought that derogatory or racist names or places names is something to maintain. If Robert MacFarlane decides to not mention those names or places then I applaud his efforts. I don't think its wrong to want to change them so that they no longer hold the horrible memories they do.
August 31, 2021
A joy of a book
What a wonderful book for any bird nerd (you know who you are), full of great facts and amazing birds. Equally appropriate for anyone with an interest in etymology, this book skilfully combines history, the development of language and the study of birds.
What a wonderful book for any bird nerd (you know who you are), full of great facts and amazing birds. Equally appropriate for anyone with an interest in etymology, this book skilfully combines history, the development of language and the study of birds.
October 24, 2018
Fascinating book-so informative and enchanting.
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