In the rush to meet our deadline, and because there are so darn many of them, we must confess in the world of bird names and their derivations, some favorites have been overlooked; a situation that can at least partially be resolved in a matter of minutes — maybe.
Which, stated a little more plainly, means you’re in for it again.
First, we must address the unfinished business from our last report, clearing up any uncertainty we may have caused regarding the greater auk.
As with the lesser auk, this bird was named for its awkwardness.
It logically follows, of course, the greater auk is even less apt than its junior cousin and, even though it isn’t much bigger, he stands out from the lesser auk by virtue of his many more bruises, more contusions and, naturally, more bandages.
That accomplished, let’s move on to the redheaded woodpecker question.
First, a word of warning. Do not jump to the erroneous conclusion the redheaded woodpecker is Irish, as there are lots of redheads of other nationalities around, and anyway, redheaded woodpeckers are native to North America, not the United Kingdom, so they hang around right here and even get to visit Canada without passports because passports are for people, not birds.
Notwithstanding, the redheaded woodpecker’s hot temper is unmistakable, but this is a fortuitous quality, as it led to his favorite pastime of working off his frustrations by beating the heck out of trees, which has a bonus attached — he gets to eat all the bugs he finds, so this works out very well for all concerned — except the bugs, of course.
Not many know the pheasant used to be called a “pleasant” until people got to know him and, if you hang around with pheasants, it doesn’t take long to learn why he isn’t pleasant anymore.
How would you like to try to hide from hunters when the grass is green and brown, while you’re iridescent red and white and even a little blue and gold thrown in, as if things weren’t bad enough already?
It’s just not fair, and if he wants to feel a little upset about it, who can blame him? Just don’t make the mistake of calling him a “pleasant,” as this will make him even more un-so.
Still, the pheasant doesn’t have a monopoly on unfairness, and when you take a closer look, you’ll find he’s almost as bad-tempered as the ruffed grouse, who’s downright grumpy.
Let’s face it. If you were ruffnecked, you’d gripe about it, too, because it never stops itching!
The robin used to be a small-time hoodlum, with a long rap sheet that included a wide range of minor offenses, including sparrow-mugging and bluejay taunting but finally saw the error of his ways and since has been rehabilitated.
Today, robin is as law-abiding as the next bird and, in recognition of this turnaround, his name was shortened from robbingbird to robin, a name he now wears proudly.
Finally, we come to the mystery of how the rooster got its name.
To date, our research division has been unable to pin down the source of this term conclusively, as no one has been able to prove the rooster roosts more than any other bird, even when we include penguins and ostriches, which never roost at all, since they can’t fly up to the roost in the first place.
Still, the jury is out on this one, and our experts have assured us no stone will go unturned in their untiring efforts to uncover the facts.
But rest assured they will continue their almost-intense investigation, poking, probing and prodding, searching for the reason that all birds are not called roosters and, while this question may seem trivial to some, it matters a lot to the roosters.
Of course, we all realize there are hundreds of kinds of birds and, since every one has a name, our work is not done, so our field crew will continue their exhausting and occasionally exhaustive research until the job is complete, so keep your guard up.
By the way, we would like to take a moment here to enlist your help.
If you should happen to have conclusive proof of how the ptarmigan got its name, please contact our headquarters.
So far, the word ptarmigan is rumored to be a variation of a Middle European term with a very rude definition, but this remains to be proven, and we’re hoping this is not the case, since this is a family publication, so if you possess information that will help clear things up, help us out here and address it to Martin L. Swallow (isn’t that a coincidence?), president, The Society To Save The Dodo, at 99 Cuckoo Lane, and please hurry, as this one is driving Martin nuts!
Mike Morton writes each week for the Kansan. He can be reached at m24r24fm8445@att.net. Mike’s book, “On The Loose Collection, Volume One,” is on sale in Newton at the Kansan, 121 W. Sixth St.; and Anderson’s Book and Office Supply, 627 N. Main St.
