104 
JOURNAL OF MAMMALOGY 
CORRESPONDENCE 
ENGLISH NAMES OP MAMMALS 
To the Editor, Journal of Mammalogy : 
Not long ago it was my privilege to appear in “The Auk” as an advocate of 
English, that is, truly popular names for birds. The matter is largely a literary 
one, but all are agreed that popular knowledge of the bird is greatly helped by 
an exadt, right, and acceptable name. 
Precisely the same thought applies to Mammals, and I hope you will allow 
me to discuss it here. 
For the diffusion of knowledge in an English-speaking country, one must have 
English names ; a name to be popular in our language must be short and descrip- 
tive. It must be different from other names. If a foreign word, it must be 
composed of the sounds represented in our alphabet. It should tie the creature 
up with familiar ideas. It must be easily said, and it must be pat. It should 
be a monosyllable, or if of more than one syllable, it should have the accent on 
the first ; otherwise it will hardly be English, and will stand much less chance of 
success. 
Those of us who have known the west for a generation, have witnessed the 
triumphant march of the monosyllable. 
The victory of ‘peak’ over ‘mountain,’ ‘gun’ over ‘revolver,’ ‘rope’ over 
‘lariat,’ are cases in point. Or to keep to animal illustrations, note the displace- 
ment of ‘Lobo’ by ‘Wolf,’ of ‘broncho’ and ‘cayuse’ by ‘horse,’ of ‘Kit-fox by 
‘Swift,’ of ‘Polecat’ by ‘Skunk.’ 
The usual shortening of the word and the forward trend of the accent are 
shown in the successive names of Cams latrans. The early travellers bade us 
call it ‘Small Prairie Wolf.’ Then the word ‘Coyote’ (coy-o'-te) came from the 
South, with its three full syllables, the accent on the second. But the inevitable 
process set in, when it got beyond Mexican influence. It was shortened to 
‘Coyote’ (coy'-ote), and sometimes flattened to ‘Kyute’ (ky’-ute). 
Again ‘sewellel’ or ‘showtl’ are accepted book names of the ‘Aplodontia.’ 
They are fairly well established, good in construction; and probably unlike the 
original Indian words, for they have been Englished; but still they have no foot- 
hold in the memory, and are being very hard pressed by the undesirable names, 
‘Mountain Beaver’ and ‘Blue Muskrat,’ which, being constructed of familiar 
elements, may put out the other names altogether. 
‘Prairie Marmot’ is an example of bookish absurdity. Of course, it would not 
stand up against the pat ‘Prairie-dog,’ which in spite of one hundred years of 
books, is now firmly established in the books themselves. 
Similarly no doubt, the victory of the strong, angular word ‘Rabbit’ over the 
shorter and rather featureless word ‘Hare’ is due to its patness, and the ease 
with which it may be said and remembered. 
Among the animal names which have succumbed to these inevitable forces, I 
might further illustrate ‘Wood-hare,’ as the bookmen insisted on calling it for 
two hundred years, now admitted to be ‘Cottontail;’ ‘Jackass hare’ or ‘Prairie 
hare’ now ‘Jack-rabbit;’ ‘Bay-lynx’ now ‘Bobcat;’ ‘Mephitic Weasel’ now ‘Skunk;’ 
‘Striped Groundsquirrel,’ now ‘Chipmunk,’ while ‘Pika’ and ‘Little Chief Hare’ 
have surrendered to ‘Coney.’ 
