A Species To Call Your Very Own – Under the Scope

If you’re reading this, you belong to the group of organisms known as Homo sapiens. That’s our scientific name. That’s our genus and species. The word “homo” is about 400 years old and comes from Latin for “man,” literally meaning “the earthly one.” Another word for earth or ground or soil is “humus,” and that’s where we get the common name “human.” The word “sapiens” comes from the 600-year old word “sapient,” which means “rational” and “wise.”

Thus, when scientists gave specific names to different organisms in the grand effort to catalog all of them, they chose Homo sapiens, or “rational man,” for humans. They also grouped similar, prehistoric humanoids under the same genus, including Homo habilis, Homo erectus, and Homo neanderthalis. They described all members of this genus as “primates that walked upright on two legs, distinguished by large brains and dependence on tools.” And no matter what you may think of your brother or sister, cousin, co-workers, boss, former boss, former boyfriends or former girlfriends, former spouse, former coach who benched you, former professor who didn’t accept late assignments, politicians, political commentators, salespeople, talk-show hosts, and customer service representatives, we are all Homo sapiens.

But some Homo sapiens are apparently more special than others. Members of this group of “Homo specialis” not only have our scientific name as “rational men and women” to call their own but also the scientific names of other, non-human organisms. For instance, the Appalachian Mountain millipede Nannaria swiftae is named after Taylor Swift. Millipedes have many legs, and so the discoverer of that species maybe had a thing for legs. Speaking of discoverers having things for body parts, there’s a fly with a golden abdomen named Scaptia beyonceae after singer-songwriter Beyoncé Knowles. The huntsman spider Heteropoda davidbowie is named after David Bowie, who performed with his band in the early 70s as “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” There’s a creepy ant named Sericomyrmex radioheadi after the English rock band Radiohead, who recorded the hit single “Creep” in 1991. Then there’s the black tarantula discovered near Folsom State Prison in California that’s named Aphonopelma johnnycashi after Johnny Cash, who recorded the famous “Folsom Prison Blues” in 1955.

And there are scientific namings that defy logic. There’s a tiny marine crustacean named Gnathia marleyi after the late reggae singer Bob Marley. The water mite Litarachna lopezae is named for Jennifer Lopez. A species of lichen is named Japewiella dollypartoniana. You can figure out who that was named after but might too polite to ask why.

But you don’t need to be a famous human recording artist to get your name immortalized in the scientific name of some other species. The ninja lantern shark, for instance, is named Etmopterus benchleyi after Peter Benchley, the author of Jaws. A species of lichen that glows under UV light is named Hypotrachyna oprah after the popular talk show personality and media magnate who glows under studio lights. And there’s the tiny twirler moth sporting yellowish-white scales on its head that’s named Neopalpa donaldtrumpi.

One of the great omissions in this honorary naming convention is that there are no frogs named after Bob Dylan. Dylan, winner of both a Pulitzer Prize and a Nobel Prize, even wrote a song about naming called “Man Gave Names to all the Animals” that goes something like this: He saw an animal that liked to growl / Big furry paws and he liked to howl / Great big furry back and furry hair /“Ah, think I’ll call it a bear.” This has since been voted one of the worst Dylan songs ever. Note that his Nobel Prize is in literature and not in any of the science fields.

This begs the question: What organism would you like to lend your name to? I thought a bit about this (in my backyard staring at the dirt under the shade of an oak) and decided that I want the next roly-poly discovered to be called Armadillidium johndoucetiae. A roly-poly is a perfect creature: cylindrical design with rounded corners, built like a tank but with flexible plates, and too tough to be readily crushed underfoot. It walks with 14 legs to smoothly and quietly explore the vast terrain of mud and leaves. It curls into a ball when threatened or when just needing a hug. It’s a healthy vegetarian and a good gardener and composter. It goes about with silent coolness, minding its own business and living harmoniously with ants and worms and other things named after famous people. It’s a crustacean like shrimp and crabs and crawfish but not likely to die in a boil with Zatarain’s. And centuries ago it was introduced here from its native Europe, after which it spread across North America—just like my Acadian ancestors.

So, here are some tips for getting a species named after you. Be famous, do great good, and try to stay rational and wise. And, oh, yes: Avoid going extinct before recording a famous song.