Good Natured in St. Charles: Fun with taxonomy that’s run a bit wild

So last week we dipped a pinky toe into the pool that is scientific binomials – that is the Latin, Greek or other-origin names given to plants and animals. The great advantage of these designations is that they are universal – Mephitis mephitis, or Stinky stinky in Latin, is the scientific name for the striped skunk, and it means the same thing whether you’re a skunk fancier in the United States, the United Kingdom or the United Arab Emirates; you get the picture.

A second advantage of this seemingly cumbersome nomenclature is that it is often descriptive. It may express an obvious quality of the organism, as in the case of Stinky stinky, or it may hint at a lesser known trait. For example, Carl Linnaeus, the father of modern taxonomy (he named more than 4,400 species of animals and 7,700 species of plants), gave milkweed the genus name Asclepias, after Asclepius, the Greek god of healing. Milkweeds for centuries were used medicinally to treat a diversity of ailments, including warts, ringworm, typhus, dysentery and asthma.

All is well and good when scientific names provide accurate descriptions of the plants and animals to which they are assigned. But, every once in a while, the nomenclature train derails, and runs wildly off the tracks.

Take, for instance, the genus name for the ragweeds, those wind-pollinated plants that trigger watery, itchy eyes and noses for millions of allergy sufferers. Linnaeus chose the name Ambrosia, as in food of the gods, for this group that contains about 50 species. It’s thought that he based his choice not so much on a sweet nectar of the gods, or a delicious fruit salad, but rather on the fact that ancient herbalists used the plant he named A. maritima to treat upset stomachs.

Another example is Linnaeus’s choice of names for the eastern or common mole. Someone unfamiliar with Scalopus aquaticus might read that name and assume that the animal is the Michael Phelps of “mammaldom.” But you know what they say about the word assume.

The day Linnaeus named the eastern mole, he had been presented with a specimen that had been found dead in a body of water. He inferred that the animal must have an association with water, and deemed aquaticus an appropriate species name. Oops! Eastern moles are the least aquatic of any North American mole species.

The genus name, however, is a little more on target. Linnaeus observed that the mole’s front feet were large and shovel-shaped; he then took the Greek words for digging and foot and put them together to create Scalopus.

The scientific name for our local fox squirrels presents another adventure in misnaming. Sciurus niger translates to Squirrel black. The only problem is that fox squirrels in our area are orange and brown – so much so that many people refer to them by the common name red squirrel. (That in itself is a problem because true American red squirrels are a smaller species with a preference for eating pine nuts. Their scientific name is Tamiasciurus hudsonicus, the “hoarder squirrel from Hudson Bay.”)

At any rate, fox squirrels came to be named Squirrel black because the first specimens collected had black fur. This tendency toward dark pigmentation occurs in fox squirrel populations in the southern and eastern states. (Interestingly, the black squirrels that pop up in our area from time to time are not Sciurus niger, but rather Sciurus carolinensis, the gray squirrel.)

But wait, there’s more! Rattus norvegicus, the Norway rat, actually originated in China. Apodidae, which means “without feet,” is the family name for the group of birds known as swifts. The birds really do have feet; however, their leg muscles are weak and not well suited for perching.

The genus name Alligator is an anglicized form of the Spanish el lagarto, or the lizard. But guess what? Alligators belong to the order Crocodilia, whereas lizards fall into the order Squamata, the “scaly ones.” Oh, and little brown bats have the scientific name Myotis lucifugus, which translates to Mouse that shuns daylight. It’s a great name, except that bats are not mice, or even rodents.

Going back to the phrase that last week started this whole train of thought – “What’s in a name?” – the answer is a lot more complex than Juliet Capulet would lead us to believe. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” she said. Unless it’s Hibiscus syriacus, the rose of Sharon, an Asian import with little to no scent.

• Pam Otto is the outreach ambassador for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org.