cryptotheism:

Those “Is a gyro a sandwitch? Well what about a tortellini?” conversations always get annoying because people don’t know how to keep them going. Casual taxonomical pedantry is fun and righteous, but only if people know how to play. “Is an onion a sandwich? What about a glass of water?” Obviously not. Be serious.

Lemme tell you how to upgrade your game:

• “What is the least-sandwich sandwich? What defines the outermost realm of sandwitchdom?”
• “What analytical razors can we use to separate sandwiches from non-sandwiches?”
• “What food is most like a sandwich while not being a sandwich?”
• “What is the most sandwitch sandwitch?”
• “What was the first sandwich? What does the ur-sandwitch tell us about the nature of sandwitchdom?”
• “Can you process a sandwich until it is no longer a sandwich? At what point does it lose its sandwich-ness?”
• “When does a non-sandwich become a sandwich? i.e. When do the ingredients become a sandwich?”
• “What is the simplest possible sandwich?”
• “What is the most complex possible sandwich? Is there an upper limit on sandwich complexity?”

memoriae-lectoris:

Some names are neither enigmatic nor absurd themselves but become so in combination with others.

In 1907, the butterfly researcher William Dunham Kearfott described a whole series of new species within the genus Eucosma. The genus belongs to the moth family Tortricidaeor leafroller moths, which include codling moths and other fruit pests. Eucosma bobanais one of Kearfott’s names, but only once it’s placed in concert with the other names, which run through nearly all the consonants in the alphabet, does the appeal of his creations manifest itself: bobana, cocana, dodana, fofana, hohana, kokana, lolana, momana, popana, rorana, sosana, totana, vovana, fandana, gandana, handana, kandana, mandana, nandana, randana, sandana, tandana, vandana, wandana, xandana, yandana, zandana, nomana, sonomana, vomonana, womonana, boxeana, canariana, foridana, idahoana,and miscana.

markscherz:

markscherz:

Meet the seven new frog species we just named after iconic Star Trek captains!

Artwork by A. Petzold, CC BY-ND 4.0

At the right time of year along rushing streams in the humid rainforests that stretch the length of Madagascar’s eastern and northern mountain ridges, otherworldly trills of piercing whistles can be heard.

Are they birds? Insects? Communicator beeps? Tricorder noises?

No, they’re little treefrogs!

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Boophis janewayae. Photo by M. Vences, CC BY-SA 4.0

Until recently, we thought all of the populations of these little brown frogs across the island were one widespread species, Boophis marojezensis, described in 1994. But genetics in the early 2000s and 2010s showed that there were several species here, not just one.

Now my colleagues and I have shown that they are in fact eight separate species, each with unique calls!

These whistling sounds reminded us so much of Star Trek sound effects that we decided to name the seven new species after Star Trek captains: Boophis kirki, B. picardi, B. janewayae, B. siskoi, B. pikei, B. archeri, and B. burnhamae.

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Photos of all new species described by Vences et al. 2024. CC BY-SA 4.0

I subtly and not-so-subtly built some Star Trek references into the paper, but probably the best one is this one:

’ Finding these frogs sometimes requires considerable trekking; pursuing strange new calls, to seek out new frogs in new forests; boldly going where no herpetologist has gone before.’

— Vences et al. 2024

There’s a real sense of scientific discovery and exploration here, which we think is in the spirit of Star Trek.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that there are at least two Trekkies amongst the authors (including yours truly). As fans of Star Trek, we are also just pleased to dedicate these new species to the characters who have inspired and entertained us over the decades.

On a personal note, this marks a milestone for me, as it means I have now described over 100 frog species! I am very pleased that the 100th is Captain Janeway’s Bright-eyed Frog, Boophis janewayae (if you count them in order of appearance in the paper)—she is probably my favourite captain, and I really love Star Trek: Voyager.

You can read more about the discovery of these new species on my website! You can also read the Open Access paper published in Vertebrate Zoology here.

The media coverage on this has been absolutely bonkers. It might be our most successful piece ever in the media, although the Altmetrics don’t reflect it.

There’s a very good chance the frogs appear in a newspaper near you! If you find them in the wild, please send me a photo and/or physical copy of the paper!! I would be extremely grateful!

Also if you hear about it on the radio, please let me know when and where (which channel)!

revretch:

Taxonomically speaking:

Hares are rabbits, toads are frogs, butterflies are moths, tortoises are turtles, humans are apes, apes are monkeys, moose are deer, bees are wasps, ants are also wasps, termites are roaches, birds are dinosaurs, insects are crustaceans, and everything with bones is a fish.

caesarsaladinn:

polychaete taxonomy is terrible because there are ten thousand species, and the way you tell them apart is mostly by checking if the gonopore is present on the thirteenth instead of the seventeenth segment (which narrows it down to only six thousand and a half species!), while acoel taxonomy is terrible because all of the relevant papers were published in 1850-1950, before any kind of genetic analysis, and amount to “yeah it’s a brown teardrop shaped worm, five millimeters long, either a new species or a synonym of six others, good luck out there :)”

There’s no such thing as a tree (phylogenetically)

These names were themselves disputed and used as insults or boasts by either side, as were various taxonomic terms of art. Reading through the pages of Systematic Zoology, it is not uncommon to see authors accuse each other of redefining key terms or to see them attempt such redefinitions (usually in the name of “clarity”) themselves. Determining what a word essentially denoted was a problem not only for naming species of beetles or apes, but also for naming groups of taxonomists. As the advent of genetic sequencing shifted the central focus of biological taxonomy (Woese et al. 1977), determining which side of the debate had “won” became primarily a question of which of their features one took to be definitive. To use a term that anthropologists would later borrow from the taxonomists, the two schools were polythetic classes (Needham 1975) — identifiable through a set of shared characteristics or “family resemblances,” but not defined by any one in particular.

via https://medium.com/@npseaver/classifying-animal-s–4f86395eb801

This tension between freedom and stability was long ago formalized in two sets of official and binding rules: the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN), which deals with animals, and the International Code of Nomenclature for algae, fungi, and plants (ICN). Periodically updated by committees of working taxonomists, these documents set out precise, legalistic frameworks for how to apply names both to species and to higher taxa. (The animal and plant codes operate independently, which means that an animal can share a scientific name with a plant, but not with another animal, and vice versa.) While this freedom opens up a valuable space for amateur contributions, it also creates a massive loophole for unscrupulous, incompetent, or fringe characters to wreak havoc. That’s because the Principle of Priority binds all taxonomists into a complicated network of interdependence; just because a species description is wrong, poorly conceived, or otherwise inadequate, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a recognized part of taxonomic history. Whereas in physics, say, “unified theories” scrawled on napkins and mailed in unmarked envelopes end up in trashcans, biologists, regardless of their own opinions, are bound to reckon with the legacy of anyone publishing a new name. Taxonomists are more than welcome to deal with (or “revise”) these incorrect names in print, but they can’t really ignore them.

via http://nautil.us/issue/35/boundaries/why-do-taxonomists-write-the-meanest-obituaries

What do we mean when we talk about the “end of the world?” It’s a term that get thrown around a bit too often among a variety of futurist-types, whether talking about global warming, nanofabrication, or non-friendly artificial intelligence. “Existential risks” is the lingo-du jour, referring to the broad panoply of processes, technologies and events that put our existence at risk. But, still, what does that mean? The destruction of the Earth? The end of humankind? A “Mad Max” world of leather-clad warriors, feral kids, and armed fashion models? All are frightening and horrific, but some are moreso than others. How do we tell them apart?

http://www.openthefuture.com/2006/12/an_eschatological_taxonomy.html

Scientific names of organisms are not usually known for their entertainment value. They are indispensable for clarity in communication, but most people skip over them with barely a glance. Here I collect those names that are worth a second look.

http://www.curioustaxonomy.net/index.html