The Bird Color Conundrum - 17 Shades of Gray

We already covered the colors that span the gap between red and brown - so now we can move on to the equally perplexing realm of the grayscale.  Many birds have some sort of coloration between white and black - and from the Slaty-tailed Trogon to the Snowy Egret, these colors can be baffling to the average observer.  This post, organized from lightest to darkest, should help quell your worries about this color conundrum:

White - The presence of all color - everything is being reflected back into your eyes.
Example: White-throated Sparrow, White Ibis, White-eared Ground-Sparrow

Snowy - This color is so ridiculously close to white it shouldn't even exist.  But "Snowy Owl" sounds a hell of a lot cooler than "White Owl", so we'll keep it.

Example: Snowy Owl, Snowy Cotinga, Snowy Egret, Snowy Plover

Snowy Owl - Dare County, NC

Ivory - The color of ivory, a yellowish off-white - it's the stuff they killed elephants for, and why there are all those Europeans hanging out in Africa in Heart of Darkness.
Example: Ivory Gull

Ash - The color of ash - like the bottom of the fire pit at the campground.  A light, washed-out gray.

Example: Ash-throated Flycatcher

Ash-throated Flycatcher - Dare County, NC (same day as the Snowy Owl above, I might add!)

Ashy - Almost the color of ash.  Almost.

Example: Ashy-headed Greenlet

Glaucous - In Latin, glaucus means blue-gray.  In English, it's basically a light gray with a slightly bluish tone.

Example: Glaucous Gull, Glaucous-winged Gull

Cinereous - Quite similar to ash, but slightly darker and tinged with brown.  Cinis means "ashes" in Latin.

Example: Cinereous Tinamou, Cinereous Finch

Grayish - Another one of those "-ish" suffixes.  It's pretty much gray...

Example: Grayish Saltator

Gray - Just saying "gray" can be a bit vague - but specifically, it is the exact halfway point between black and white.
Example: Gray Catbird, Gray Gull, Gray Flycatcher, Gray Hawk

Silver - Ag. The color of the element. A shining, sparkling, gray...but on birds it's really just gray.
Example: Silver-breasted Broadbill, Silver Oriole, Silver-beaked Tanager

Dusky - The color of the sky as the last wisps of sunlight recede o'er the horizon. Dark gray.
Example: Dusky Flycatcher

Sooty - The stuff that collects on the inside of chimneys and covers the living room carpet every Christmas morning. The color of burned carbon.
Example: Sooty Tern, Sooty Shearwater

Slate - One of my favorite colors - a dark gray, with a bluish tinge (like the metamorphic rock).  Basically a much darker version of glaucous.
Example: Slate-throated Redstart

Slate-throated Redstart - Santa Elena, Costa Rica

Slaty - Almost the color of slate.  Almost.  It seems like this is the form of "slate" used to describe birds more frequently, but I may be wrong.
Example: Slaty-backed Gull, Slaty Antwren, Slaty-tailed Trogon

Plumbeous -  Lead-colored. Like Ferruginous, this color comes from the latin name of the element.
Example: Plumbeous Vireo

Coal - The color of the fossil fuel West Virginians and Tea Party-ers love so much.  Almost black, like how snowy is almost white.

Example: Coal-crested Finch

Black - The absence of color.  No light is reflected back.  Everyone knows this.
Example: Great Black-backed Gull, Black-cheeked Woodpecker, Common Black-Hawk, Melodious Blackbird

Black-cheeked Woodpecker - La Selva, Costa Rica

What Audubon Called the Birds, Part II

In the last edition of What Audubon Called the Birds, I focused on some old bird names that we should go back to using.  Well, I'm back with more bird names - straight from the 1800s.

Carolina Turtle-Dove - now known as Mourning Dove
As a Carolina-born birder, I get a little sense of pride every time I hear a bird with "Carolina" in its name.  Carolina Chickadee, Carolina Wren, Porzana carolina - why not have Carolina Turtle-Dove join the ranks?  Have you ever seen a Mourning Dove actually look sad?  Hell no.  They sit on tree branches and power lines, chase each other around, and eat seeds.  Sure, their call is "mournful", but so is literally every other dove's song.  Carolina Turtle-Dove only makes sense here (though I would accept a shortened "Carolina Dove" as well).

Much better.

Ferruginous Mocking-bird - now known as Brown Thrasher
I love the word "ferruginous", so I may be a little biased.  But Brown Thrashers aren't exactly brown, as I found out.  They are, indeed, the rusty iron color of ferruginous.  I do like the word "Thrasher" though, so I think a compromise may be needed.  Let's go with "Ferruginous Thrasher" and call it a day.  It's a more accurate name, plain and simple.

Bergomaster - now known as Glaucous Gull
Burgomaster is German for "Mayor" or "Master of the Town", a fantastic moniker for this large and somewhat intimidating Larus.  I don't have any idea who started calling them Bergomasters, but I like it.  Glaucous makes me think of Glaucoma anyway, which is definitely NOT a disease a birder wants to get.

The most badass name for the most badass gull.

Great Cinerous Owl - now known as Great Gray Owl
C'mon.  Great Gray Owls aren't just gray.  They are cinerous, which is an ashy gray tinged with brown.  "Cinerous" is also tinged with just enough 19th-century romanticism to make this already-majestic bird even better.  Slam dunk.  Now if only I could see one...

Hudsonian Curlew - now known as Whimbrel
Ignoring the fact that we may return to this name anyway (or to the similar "Hudsonian Whimbrel"), I think "Hudsonian Curlew" bears a more authentic North American flair than "Whimbrel" does.  Why do we use the European name here anyway? Do we call Black-bellied Plovers "Grey Plovers"?  Or Brants "Brent Geese"?  No, we're not British.  And I want to start calling them HUCUs (pronounced HooKoos).  "Hey, did you see the big flock of HUCUs at the inlet?"  Yes, yes I did.

HUCU in North Carolina, at the aforementioned "inlet".

Acadian Owl - now known as Northern Saw-whet Owl
Some may object to changing the name of what is arguably the cutest of America's birds, but hear me out.  We need more "Acadian" birds to join the ranks of my local "pizza!" spewing Empidonax flycatcher.  Acadia was an area in the Northeast settled by the French (Acadie was the French name for Nova Scotia), a fitting location name for this little owl.  And no one knows what the sound of a "saw whetting" even is these days, so the new name is obsolete.

This owl is angry someone changed his name to Saw-whet.

I challenge the birding councils to consider my requests.  Our pastime would be much richer if we could return to these antique names.

Audubon's images from Audubon.org's page on Birds of America.  I feel like I should owe them something at this point.

What Audubon Called The Birds

No character in history, with the possible exception of Roger Tory Peterson, has had such a profound impact on America's perception of birds as John James Audubon.  However, when looking through his works, a few things stand out as being, well, a little "different" from what the modern birder is accustomed to.  For the life of me, I cannot figure out what the hell the Carbonated Swamp-Warbler or the Washington's Eagle even are.  Some birds' names have been changed completely - leaving behind their colorful colloquial roots to occupy a more utilitarian space in our 21st century language.  This is a shame - Audubon probably had a lot more fun identifying birds by these "antiquated" names than we ever will by our modern, AOU-certified ones.  Let's explore some of my personal favorites from Audubon's extensive repertoire:

Aquatic Wood-Wagtail - Now known as Louisiana Waterthrush

I can't think of a more fascinating name for one of my favorite birds.  A Wood-Wagtail?  It sounds so exotic.  Let's face it - Louisiana Waterthrushes have hardly anything to do with Louisiana.  They do, however, wag their tails emphatically, live along wooded streams, and enjoy water.  Sure, it makes you think of those pipit-like Eurasian birds, but technically it's not a "thrush" either.  So I propose we return to our ancestral American roots and change the common name back to AWWA.

Red Palarope - Now known as Red Phalarope

I know this is just a misspelling, but it made me laugh.  If any bird would be your pal, it would be the Red Palarope.

They just look friendly, don't they?  Like lil' buddies.

Hyperborean Phalarope - Now known as Red-necked Phalarope

"Hyperborean" comes from the Greek word for a mythical people that lived beyond the North Wind, a fitting (and mysterious) name for a bird that breeds in the Arctic and migrates offshore.  Come on y'all - this is so cool.  "Red-necked" just makes me think of muddin' and Jeff Foxworthy.  We could make this name even better by calling it the Hyperborean Palarope instead.  

Some Hyperborean Palaropes the Birder's Conundrum team saw off Cape Hatteras.

Foolish Guillemot - Now known as Common Murre

Back before I was a birder, I went on a puffin-watching trip in Newfoundland.  On the way to the breeding colony, the captain of our boat pointed out a few chunky seabirds desperately trying to take off.  He told us that they were Murres who had eaten too much, and thus couldn't fly.  That's pretty foolish.  I think "Foolish Guillemot" is an excellent name that should be reinstated.

Scolopaceous Courlan - Now known as Limpkin

This has to be my favorite of these names, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the first word.  "Scolopaceous" means "woodcock-like" (remember Scolopax is the genus that Woodcocks fall under).  Why an adjective would be created to mean something so specific as "woodcock-like", I have no idea.  "Limpkin" sounds like something I don't really want to look up on Urban Dictionary.  So Scolopaceous Courlan is definitely preferred here.

Scolopaceous Courlan - Barra del Colorado, Costa Rica

Tell-tale Godwit  - Now known as Greater Yellowlegs

"Tell-tale" makes me think of Edgar Allen Poe, so this name automatically gets bonus points.  The name "tell-tale" actually refers to their noisy call, which would often give away a hunter's position before he could approach a flock of shorebirds (I'm sure this has happened to birders too).  Greater Yellowlegs is a fitting name, but Tell-tale Godwit is more poetic, don't you think?

Illustrations from audubon.org