Mrs Moreau's Warbler

October 15, 2018
Noting that some bird names are intuitive—“Cuckoos do indeed call out their name”—and others more obscure, British naturalist and lecturer Moss (A Bird in the Bush: A Social History of Birdwatching) breaks down the guidelines of and patterns in how birds are named in this fascinating examination. Early chapters deal, for instance, with sounds birds made that might have influenced their names—such as “crow” and “dove”—and with how some names eventually and inevitably changed as the English language itself changed. When labels based on color (e.g., red grouse, grey heron, goldfinch) became too general to be useful, ornithologists began to use “more complex and subtle shades” as well. The more species they discovered, the more visually descriptive the names got. These include the pied flycatcher and pied wagtail, the snowy owl, and the buff-bellied pipit and buff-breasted sandpiper. Subsequent sections deal also with eponymous birds, creatures named after people, primarily men, honoring themselves or paying tribute to others. The titular warbler, for example, is “an obscure and endangered songbird” named in 1938 by Reginald Ernest Moreau, an expert in bird migration, for his wife and fellow bird enthusiast, Winnie. It is one appealing story among many in a comprehensive volume certain to interest scientific readers and general audiences alike. B&w illus.

November 15, 2018

In his latest work, naturalist Moss (A Bird in the Bush) explores the origins of bird names in the English language. The author identifies three main, historical naming conventions, as the approach to naming birds has changed throughout the years. In the first and oldest of these, birds were named according to their physical features, including size and shape, pattern or color, or sound. The cuckoo, a word that first appeared in Old English, is an example of the first type. Later, birds were named by professional scientists based on characteristics such as habitat and location; for example, the Meadow Pipit. The third and most recent way to name a bird was after a person, a naming convention popular in the 18th and 19th centuries. Birds were usually identified after a scientist or explorer, such as Ross's Gull. Through lively prose and numerous examples, Moss shows that the origin of bird names is fascinating and not always entirely clear, also offering insight into the way humans use language. VERDICT This work will appeal to a wide range of readers, including those interested in science, history, and/or linguistics.--Dave Pugl, Ela Area P.L., Lake Zurich, IL

Copyright 2018 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

Starred review from December 1, 2018
In an ideal world, the names we give to birds would make perfect sense. But as British naturalist and BBC producer Moss reveals in this marvelous and eminently readable survey, bird names range from very local folk names to lyrically descriptive names to prosaic place names. Those choices help us make sense of myriad animals and plants, and the act of naming also helped early humans survive by sharing knowledge. Some bird names are so ancient that their origin is lost; goose is the oldest bird name we know. Bird names come from the precursors of modern English, particularly Norman French (kingfisher, peregrine) and Old English (redstart means red tail). Some names echo the bird's calls (cuckoo, crow). Other names refer to colors (blackcap, goldfinch) or how the bird acts (treecreeper, nuthatch). And as the title implies, many birds were named for people (Leach's petrel, Cetti's warbler). This linguistic romp through ornithology, natural history writing, and scientific discovery is enlivened by Moss' tales of searching for some of the species he writes of. Mrs. Moreau's warbler, anyone?(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2018, American Library Association.)