We always assume science is a very serious discipline. And it is, of course. But scientists are also human, and humans, as we know, can be wonderfully cheeky. Which is how we end up with animal names as dignified as the macaroni penguin, the wobbegong, and the wahoo.
But how exactly does an animal get its name? It turns out there’s a whole process to it, and an entire scientific discipline devoted to the task. In biology, it’s called taxonomy: the study of naming, defining, and classifying groups of organisms based on shared characteristics. What characteristic the wahoo has to do with anything is a fair question, and one we’ll get to shortly.
Within taxonomy, biologists use a special naming system for newly discovered species called binomial nomenclature. According to the Fort Collins Museum of Discovery, this system was invented by the Swedish botanist and zoologist Carl Linnaeus in the 18th century.
Each species receives a unique two-part Latin name that links it to related species. Think Homo sapiens for humans, or Homo neanderthalensis for Neanderthals. For animals specifically, these scientific names are overseen by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature, or ICZN.
Now, the official Latin name isn’t the one most of us actually use. That would be the common name—the everyday word that non-specialists like you and I reach for without thinking. After all, it’s a lot easier to say you spotted a hedgehog snuffling through your garden than to announce you’ve encountered an Erinaceus europaeus.
Unlike their Latin counterparts, common names aren’t formally regulated. An animal has only one scientific name, but can accumulate several common names depending on the language and region.
There are countless ways a species can end up with its name. Much of the early naming happened during the era of European exploration, when naturalists were cataloguing newly encountered creatures at a remarkable pace.
The most straightforward approach was simply to describe the animal, capturing something about its appearance or behavior in the name itself. A perfectly practical system, most of the time.
But species have also been named for far less practical reasons. Many have been named after people, like the sponsor of a scientific expedition, someone’s spouse, or a beloved public figure. And sometimes, quite simply, as a joke.
Take the Agra vation beetle, for instance. The entire Agra genus of beetles is practically built on wordplay. Then there’s Agathidium vaderi, a beetle named for its striking resemblance to Darth Vader’s helmet, which honestly feels well-earned.
Not every funny-sounding name was intended as a joke, mind you. Boops boops sounds like something a child made up, but it has perfectly respectable origins. It’s also worth noting that this is the Latin name, not the common one.
The genus was first proposed in 1814 by French zoologist Georges Cuvier, and Boops derives from the Ancient Greek for ox-eyed, a nod to the fish’s notably large eyes. Nothing to do with booping anyone’s nose. Its common name is actually bogue, which is considerably less fun to say.
