In Defense of a Murder of Crows

I read an article today that denounced the phrase Murder of Crows in particular and all other "absurd" words for groups of animals. While I accept that some of these terms, venery, dating from the Middle Ages, may in fact be antiquated I had several points at which I did not agree with the article. If you are interested you may find the original article here.

"Squamish 2015-01-11 064-LR" by jamesabbott1963 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

The first question Mr. Nicholas Lund asks is whether anyone actually uses these terms, because he contends that he has never heard them used. I've not going to sit here and argue that everyone uses all the plural animal nouns all the time.  However, if the author has never heard any grouping words for animals used aside from flock and herd, I would say he hasn't been talking to enough people in the world. I've heard plenty of them used by real people in all seriousness including the following terms: 

· Bats: colony 

· Bees: hive, swarm 

· Camels: caravan, train, or herd 

· Crows: murder 

· Dogs: litter (of puppies), pack (in the wild), 

· Dolphins: pod 

· Geese: gaggle 

· Lions: pride 

· Porpoises: pod, school 

· Prairie dogs: colonies 

· Rabbits: colony, nest, warren 

· Whales: pod 

· Wolves: pack 

· Vipers: nest 

Now, I agree that are some incredibly odd terms for specific animals are not used in normal parlance. I admit that I've never heard someone refer to a collective group of bears as a sleuth or rhinos as a stubbornness. But then, I also don't live in a place where I run into wild groups of rhinos. If I was late to work because a group of rhinos parked themselves in the road I could reasonably call them a stubbornness because it would describe the belligerent way that they collectively made my morning more difficult. Luckily, that has never happened to me in the Southwestern United States. But I have personally referred to bees as a hive and swarm, and geese as a gaggle, and crows as a murder, and I've heard plenty of other people do so. 

A small murder perched on a wire. - "Evening chat" by -Niloy- is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

Mr. Lund tries to argue that scientists don't use them and therefore nobody really does. That's simply not an accurate sampling of the population. It might prove that scientists don't use those terms but it doesn't answer his posed question: 

Are there actual people in the real world who use special group names for certain species? Or is there just one nerd in an office somewhere with a field guide in one hand and a dictionary in the other, matching each species with a cute little term and laughing maniacally when the world collectively coos over the pairing? 

After he proves that scientists don't use terms of venery he claims that they exist only in the "world of bar trivia," where, "without real-world applications" they are "just morsels of linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity".  I argue that trivia is not really the point of these group names. I don't argue that the terms have no scientific value. My problem is in the vehemence with which he believes the words should be removed from the English language. He proposed we replace them with bland but more scientific words like group.

No doubt calling this crow a visitor or a friend is also a transgression against the purity of scientific integrity but I like the photographer's point of view - "Crow visitor" by Fernettes is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

Would you really say... "Oh look at this group of jellyfish on the beach"?  You'd probably at least say this whole group, or, look at all of these jellyfish or, look there's thousands of jellyfish!  Because using the word group alone is too boring and entirely lacking in descriptive power. If thousands of jellyfish were surrounding a boat that I happened to be floating in, and they were slapping into the sides with every swell of water that lapped against the edges of my boat, I would probably call them a smack in that case too. I'd probably lean over the edge watch them smack into the boat, look further out and see an endless flotilla of them and say "Oh my God there's a smack of jellyfish out here, look!" Maybe it would come out slightly differently, but I would bet you substantial money that I would not say "look a GROUP of jellyfish!" 

Language is sometimes about tone and sometimes about feeling. And you can't convey those things with the word group.  I'm not arguing that some of these other words, these terms of venery, have any scientific value.  I merely believe that they have literary and poetic value.

Could you really capture the mood and tone of this moment by describing it as a group of three crows on a  roof?  I contend that you cannot. - "Cathedral of Our Lady" by marikoen is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 

I personally have not heard people say "a group of crows". I admit that I'm unusual and have unusual preferences, but it would stand out to me if people said group, because it would not be my preferred word for this context. I don't hear people use this. I've heard them use an exact count of the crows or the word flock, but honestly, I've heard many, many people refer to crows as a murder. Now, you could use the work flock, or group, sure. It just seems to me that most people don't do so, because it doesn't convey as much feeling. 

Is this just a crow or is this a solitary crow?  Words matter even if there is no scientific value to that distinction. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Let me illustrate my point by telling you about the same morning in two different ways.  Firstly, using boring, strictly factual language and then again using poetic language Mr. Lund would disapprove of. 

Version A. 

I drove to work and I arrived about a minute late and there was this group of crows in my parking spot. I was briefly worried about hitting them while I parked, but I was also late. They scattered. Then I went inside and remembered it was my 90 day review. 

Version B. 

I drove to work this morning and arrived about a minute late. As I pulled into the parking lot there was a murder of crows waiting for me in my normal spot. I was ONLY a minute late but I was afraid to run over them, and then again, I was already late, so I hesitated briefly. I had this ominous feeling as their dark wings took to the sky and then I remembered as I looked over my shoulder at them on the way into the building that today was my 90 day review. 

Which version of my story conveys more of my internal emotional goings on? The one where I say group of crows and leave it to strict facts? There is nothing scientific about either story, but the story that contains the offensive "linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity" is actually a much better story about my morning and how I felt about it. And despite his assertions, my poetic story has done no damage to any actual scientific integrity. 

If I called this a flurry of crows you would know what I meant, even if it's not the accepted collective noun for crows. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Another of his points is that these terms, being that they only exist in the world of bar trivia, could easily be replaced with more interesting and scientific facts. He is right in a way. Trivia could be more interesting and scientific (such as the shape of wombat poop). However, the way that I use the terms for different animals is not in a field of trivia, it's in how I actually describe things in my world. And I would personally much rather have a poetic discussion about the things I actually see and experience in the world than a factual one about the shape of wombat fecal matter, regardless of how unusual it may be. Sorry, Mr. Lund, I think replacing venery with fecal facts is simply not the way to go. 

Then there is the point in which he mentions that "I just don’t see enough groups of other animals to need more words". Mr. Lund, I am ashamed. You don't see any other animals than cows and birds?  You seriously don't need any other words than herd and flock?  Scientist, lifelong birder, or not, if he doesn't see enough groups of other animals to need other words than flock, herd, and group, I suggest he doesn't see enough animals. Or perhaps he does and he is simply not using English in an interesting enough way. Does he call dogs in a plural form a herd or a group?  Does he refer to swarms of bees as groups?  He can continue doing as he chooses of course. But I think his language is lacking if he uses strictly and only the words, flock, herd and group for all animals that he sees or talks about.

He concedes that "certain terms of venery have made the transition from factoid to actual phrase. Pod of whales. Troop of monkeys. Gaggle of geese. Pack of wolves."  That almost makes this article worse for me.  It seems to me that Mr. Lund is saying, you can use terms that don't irritate me, but if it irritates me I will say that you are morally corrupting our scientific integrity with your choice of words.  Do tell, Mr. Lund, when does something gain enough strength in popularity for you to deem it an "actual phrase" and allow us, in your great magnanimity to use it as part of the English language?

I will now concede that I personally think some of the terms are silly.  I do not see why anyone would refer to a roiling mass of rattlesnakes as a rhumba, I think it disgraces the dance and does not adequately convey the horror of such a mass of snakes.  I might even ask someone why they thought that was a good word for it, after I'd run a sufficiently safe distance from said coil of snakes.  But I think it's more a transgression against poetry than it is against science.  I don't need to know or have ever heard anyone refer to rattlesnakes as a rhumba to know that they are referring to a plurality of snakes I don't want to be near.  That's the thing about terms of venery, they mostly denote collective nouns rather than a single rattlesnake.  And I don't have to know or agree with the term to understand what is being conveyed. 

"Caw!" by molajen is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

All of this aside, I clearly disagree with Mr. Lund, but he may do as he likes.  He is entitled to his opinions of the proper way to use English terms, however much I disagree with them. However, he continues with his article and he takes it one step too far for me. 

At the end of his article he is clearly worked up about the sort of people who try to rot our collective scientific integrity with such linguistic candy. He says that the next time someone tells him a term of venery he will respond with: 

“Did you know anyone who believes that is part of a ‘gaggle of gullibles’?" 

Telling people they are gullible for using a term you don't like is technically neither true nor nice. Mr. Lund could say they are foolish, or perhaps sentimental, but he doesn't appear to have the aptitude for understanding how to use words that he deems too whimsical. Or, for that matter, patience for anyone who is not on his wavelength of morally upstanding scientific integrity.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means perfect.  I have my particular veiwpoints that I defend with more vehemence than necessary.  I will own that there are words I simply hate.  I am fairly certain, however, that I have never told anyone they are gullible for using a real word that I hate.  I just cringe a little and try to move on.  

People who use words and phrases you don't like are not gullible.  They would only be gullible, Mr. Lund, if they believed you when and if you responded to them with made up terms of venery, as you did at the start of your article, specifically to mock them. I'm afraid, however, that to deliberately mislead them and mock them for things that are not false, simply not to your liking, would cost you your moral high ground, your scientific integrity, and lastly, Sir, I'm afraid, that if you do that intentionally, you're just being an ass. A solitary one.

A rather solitary, moody-looking fellow.  I think he is pontificating on some point dear to his heart. - "Gangsta Crow" by www.charlesthompsonphotography.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

Let's be Old Fashioned Anglo-Saxons...

and write poetry.

That is, I was thinking there should be more poetry done in the Anglo-Saxon style using kenning.  Recently, I was thinking about how much fun it is to describe things in lengthy poetic phrases.  My favorite from reading Anglo-Saxon poetry, oh so many years ago, was the way they described the sea as the whale's road.

So, naturally, when this sprang to mind recently I decided I should write my own poem using kenning. Oh right, I haven't defined it yet and you may not wish to look it up just now, being as eager as you are, I am sure, to read my poem.  So, I'll just define it for you.  Kenning is when you use a poetic phrase to describe a word instead of just using that word.  Rather than saying you rowed a boat across the sea you would say that you rowed a boat across the whale's road.  A kenning for dragon would be fire-breather.  It's not a difficult poetic concept, nothing like conforming to a strict meter.  However, I think it's a lovely literary device.

Right, so now that we've defined kenning, I won't keep you in suspense any longer.  I know you are all dying to hear a little Anglo-Saxon styled poetry.  What would your day be without it?  Bleak.  I know.  Don't worry, I understand your concern about the dearth of kenning in modern society.  So, without further ado, here is the word pile of the day:

I make myself comfortable in the ocean's sand-box;
As the birds' highway lifts my hair in playful delight.
I build a tan grainy castle for the rolling water to devour;
While my toes find freedom from their leather plight,
My fingers find purpose in their tiny ground-pebble creations;
And my face grows warm with smiles in the day's ending light.

Hello, Handbasket!

Today I find myself concerned because I have stopped for a second, looked around and realized I'm sitting in a handbasket.  Yes, this is a metaphor.  And when you are sitting in a metaphorical handbasket you know what your ultimate destination is going to be.  If you don't, I applaud you and I would appreciate life advice.

Now, in the moment of inevitable re-evaluation that this sort of handbasket sitting causes, I thought about how I had arrived in the center of this particular handbasket.  Life has a strange way of wending around like a lazy river.  It takes its own time, bending here and swirling there.  Moving in a muddled way that can take a distracted traveler by surprise.  One moment you've put into the river in a canoe, knowing exactly what direction you are headed.  The next while you take a moment to admire the scenery, you realize that you are suddenly in the eddy of an oxbow facing entirely the opposite direction from the one you expected and your canoe has magically turned itself into a handbasket.

At moments like this, I like to assess my life and try to figure out which bend in the river has put me in this precise handbasket.  So, I looked around at a few of my fellow travelers.  A few of them looked shocked as though they'd been newly apprised of our destination.  A couple of them looked grim as though they'd known about our dire situation for a long time but seen no way out of the inevitable.  Not a one of us was entirely sure how the river of life had turned us around and spit us out into this handbasket on the highway to... well, you know.

Hindsight has proven the few souls that bailed earlier to be the wiser travelers on this path.  Alas, I was not so wise as they.  I have only now seen the handwriting on the road signs.  So here we are, a sad group of somewhat more or less shocked travelers in a handbasket speeding down the highway.  I gape as we roar past another group of people along the side of the road feverishly bent over their wickerwork; weaving a new handbasket for their own impending journey.  That's when I realized that not a single fellow traveler was arguing about whether we were, in fact, on our way to H*ll with impressive speed, we were merely quibbling about the ETA.

The way things have gone today, I think it might be wise to invest in wicker.

Extremities and Extremism

I think people have underestimated their extremities.  I know, I know, that's an odd thought to have, but think about it.  Everything seems more extreme at your extremities.  Whenever I'm cold, my toes are always the coldest.  Double layers of gloves and socks barely keep up in a freezing NYC winter.  Conversely, on a sweltering, Alabama summer day, while the rest of my body struggles on with the heat, my toes get hot and claustrophobic in shoes.  They demand sandals so that they can breathe.

I know that not everyone shares my opinion on toe shoes, but toe socks and toe shoes are the absolute worst.  It's not just the fact that they create tiny prisons for your toes that bothers me.  No, what bothers me is that they are imprisoning your toes in tiny isolation cells.  They were born together; they've never been apart.  They aren't used to isolation.  Some people might even call it cruel and unusual punishment.  And one should not be cruel to one's toes.  They are sort of the foundation of a person, you know?

So, really, I think people are underestimating their extremities.  By this, I don't just mean that people are not looking out for their extremities when they cram them into high heels and pointy shoes that don't always fit.  I mean, that people don't appreciate how much extremities really feel.  Feeling extremes in heat and cold is just the beginning.

I believe that extremities and extremism go hand in hand.  Popular expressions would support this notion.  When you love a song the first thing that happens is toe tapping.  Your toes either appreciate the music more or first.  They start dancing before you do and then convince the rest of you to follow along.  When you fall for a stranger's charm it is called being "swept off your feet."

The ultimate expression of relaxation is putting one's feet up.  The opposite is also true.  When someone is tired the highest expression for exhaustion is "dead on your feet."  Because feet are the first to relax and the first to tire.

If you're extremely obstinate you "dig in your heels."  The opposite is also true here.  When someone is over eager you can tell them "cool your heels."  There are numerous expressions that express feelings by equating them with extremities.  If you worked hard all day you could say that you ache from "head to toe."  If you feel like you are in a changeable or fast-paced environment you might say that it "keeps you on your toes."  This evokes a feeling of change and surprise all at once.  Rarely would someone try to express this feeling by referring to a body part in the mid-section.

And that's all just feet.

Your fingers can be lazy "not lifting a finger" or take the brunt of all your hard work when you have "worked your fingers to the bone."  You can give people and things you approve of a thumbs up.  People who are clumsy are referred to as "being all thumbs."  And when you feel like you're being oppressed you could call it "being under someone's thumb."

Your heart may just be the center of your emotions but your extremities may experience them in the most extreme manner.  Seeing as I'm in a frivolous mood I'm just going to go out on a limb here (a limb being an extremity as well), and say that my emotions are magnified at my extremities. My fingers are extremely important and my toes are extremists.

Expressions of exhaustion

Today was one of those weirdly long days.  I got up early this morning to sneak off to a book fair at the Medieval Congress.  I met a friend hopped on a bus and got all the way there to discover that the book fair wasn't on today.  Grumble.  So I got rained on and then had to pay two pounds extra to get home without the solace of books.  I did get to see some pretty moss growing on a wall though.  And I got a lovely picture, so it wasn't a total waste of a trip.

Moss on a rainy July morning in Leeds

Then it was laundry time before work.  I tiptoed around the freshly mopped floors, did a bit of cleaning of counters and threw in my laundry.  Then I rushed off to work where I had a fashion client again today.  It was a long day of looking up prospective link targets.  So, my colleague and I took turns sighing and using our various expressions for exhaustion.  She would say, "oh honey" with a large sigh, then she'd look at me with exhaustion on her face. Sometimes she would add "I'm just too tired for this", or "I'm not making any progress".  A few minutes later when I hit a wall with my client I'd sigh and use my very American expression "Oh man".  I really don't know why I say oh-man, I just do.  Sometimes when I didn't understand a strange blog I was looking at my inner southern woman would come out and I'd express my disbelief at the world and my job by sighing "Oh, Lordy".  Apparently exhaustion is not expressed the same in the UK as it is in the US.  But then again, maybe that is just our individual ways of expressing it.  Nonetheless we had a few sighs and Oh-honeys and Oh-Lordys over in our corner tonight.
We were both glad to be out of there when our shift ended.  Luckily I made the early bus even though I had to run for it a little bit at the end.  But I was triumphant that I made it.  And really excited that the poor office plant that everyone was neglecting had started to flourish now that I was watering it.  Then on my walk home it was actually sort of pleasant.  It had finally stopped raining and the breeze was nice.  I got a nice picture of the Parkinson building and some church spires on my way home.

Parkinson building at sunset. July in Leeds.

So it wasn't an altogether unpleasant day even though it was tiring for some reason.  So now that I'm home sighing "Oh Lordy" at my piles of laundry. I think I should go to bed.

Words, confounding words!

Guaranteed allergy quality because substandard allergies are unacceptable  - Photo Credit: Flickr by elliottzone

Allergy friendly.  What does that really mean?  Yes, I know that the phrase is meant to be telling you that you are safe it eat it, use it, or what-have-you.  Somehow this is meant to be alerting you that this product is hypoallergenic.  I mean, hypoallergenic makes sense as a word with the prefix hypo meaning under and having a connotation of less in a medicinal context.  It makes sense then for people with allergies to search for products that have less allergens in them and are therefore hypoallergenic.  But allergy friendly?


I don't know about you, but to me, the expression allergy friendly sounds like it is somehow more friendly with the allergy than the person who suffers from allergies.

I love Pollen! - Photo Credit: Flickr brookenovak

I can just see a saleswoman telling you "Oh yes, this is a very allergy friendly product.  It practically provides a paradise for allergens to multiply in."
"But," asks the allergy friendly customer, "what about the long lasting benefits?"
"Oh yes, of course.  You see our product is very good for feeding allergies.  It boosts the health of your allergies by providing the right environment and nutrients for allergens to prosper in.  But the allergies will run out of nutrients quickly.  You need to use our product frequently for the best results" says the saleswoman.
"I see. And how quickly can I expect this product to take effect and improve the health of my allergies?" asks the curious customer.
"You can usually see the increased strength in the allergies right away.  Sometimes you can feel your eyes start itching and your breathing become laboured and wheezy within seconds of using our product" says the saleswoman.
"Well, that's rather fast-acting.  That's good" says the customer.
"Oh yes. All our products come with an allergy satisfaction guarantee.  If you are not miserable within minutes your allergies can demand a refund" the saleswoman finishes.
"Perfect, I'll take it" the allergy friendly customer decides.
The saleswoman beams.  It is another glorious day to be an allergy.