What's in a (Bird) Name?

It has been one month since the American Ornithological Society released a statement of its intent to change the English common names of bird species named for people, starting with those birds found in the United States and Canada, then moving to Latin America. Reactions to this initiative have been predictably mixed, often polarized. It is demoralizing to me personally to see friends and respected colleagues opposed to it, an absence of nuanced perspectives, and lack of creativity in solutions.

Say goodbye to Bullock's Oriole

Here are some basics so we can all be on the same page. Common, English names of species that include the moniker of a historical figure are termed “eponymous” names. This practice of naming species after people dates to at least the 1800s, and has been revealed to be wildly inconsistent, if not random, in its application. A little excavation work by author Kenn Kaufman shows that some “honorees” in eponymous bird names had little if anything to do with ornithology, let alone advance the science.

More troubling still, eponymous names have come to be associated with racism, misogyny, other forms of bigotry, and colonialism. Rather than painstakingly evaluate the baggage of each eponymous bird name, the AOS has decided to do away with all of them. This has led to accusations of “wokeism” and political correctness by some birders, and many people who have no interest at all in our feathered friends. No one seems to be asking what is to be gained by retaining such names, aside from convenience and tradition.

Do we really want a tradition of exclusion? Birding is already viewed by many as an elitist recreational pursuit, with globetrotting retirees chasing rarities for their life lists. Birding will benefit greatly from expanded human diversity within its ranks. It follows that birds themselves will benefit from increased attention to their plight.

Some with less visceral reactions have questioned whether this effort at name-changing will draw valuable financial and human resources away from bird conservation and research. My intuition tells me that expenditures will be relatively minor, and the people doing the work will not be the same people already engaged in protection of species. This is an endeavor that complements conservation, if not enhances it by making the discipline of ornithology more attractive to Indigenous scientists, and others who have viewed the science as exclusionary.

There are those who do not believe that mere name changes go far enough towards the goal of decolonizing science, politics, economics, and improving other aspects of life. This may have merit if we do not address how we can take down barriers to birding such as the affordability of optics and other equipment, increase accommodations for disabled and neurodivergent birders, prioritize the safety and respect of women and children in the birding community, and take economic initiatives beyond bird-friendly coffee.

Should you question whether I have nothing to lose in siding with those endorsing a move away from eponymous names, allow me to mention that I am a direct descendent of the “OC” (Original Colonists). My forefathers were literally on the Mayflower. In no way do I feel threatened by extending rights, freedom, and prosperity to people who identify other than White, cis, male, straight, neurotypical, able-bodied, and otherwise advantaged.

Ironically, the one downside of eliminating eponymous names, as I see it, is that we cannot name birds after any people of color, who truly have furthered ornithology and birding. (J. Drew) Lanham’s Sparrow has a nice ring to it.