What's in a name?

In botany, a lot. I often get chastised for my anal insistence in the use of proper plant nomenclature. By this, I don't mean the use of proper common names, but the correct scientific names, in Latin, spelled correctly, and in italic font. I'll let the Roman font slide if it is in an e-mail, but now that Eudora allows things to be written at a slant, I think I'll be more rigorous in following the rules in correspondence.

There are many good reasons to use the Latin name, one of them being that some species have more than one common name, and some species share common names. The first time this hit home to me was when I went off to Purdue University and had several other students 'correct' me when I referred to this particular small tree with gorgeous, smooth and fluted bark as musclewood. "No" one of them said matter-of-factly, "that is an ironwood." I was insistent, "That can't be, ironwood has bark that is flaky." Just like your personality, I thought to myself. We argued back and forth, eventually calling a truce, and parting ways for the afternoon. I stopped in at the life sciences library in Lilly Hall (no, that is not a joke) and looked it up. I was RIGHT! But, as I read further, so were they. The species we were looking at (Carpinus caroliniana) goes by several common names, including musclewood, ironwood, blue beech, American hornbeam and a few others. [The species I (correctly) learned as ironwood (Ostrya virginiana) also goes by American hop-hornbeam.] I recalled this little lesson the other day when I encountered some nice musclewood (Carpinus caroliniana) growing in the woods (above). I love how the sinewy bark is accentuated by light and shadow. It is an appropriate common name, far better than ironwood.

Another benefit of using Latin is that those names are universally accepted -- in any language and culture. It is easy to rave about this to people, but few are ever going to put this to the test. In my travels abroad, however, I have found the system to work nearly 100% of the time. While the spellings of the Latin binomials may be the same, the pronunciations can be a bit different. When I speak of maples (Acer), I use a soft 'c', however some in central Europe may use a 'k' sound, which can make things a bit difficult at first. The pines can also cause a bit of confusion, if not a few giggles. See, the genus for pine is Pinus, pronounced in the US and most European countries with a long 'i'. But in other parts of the globe, the 'i' is pronounced with a long 'e'. (Try discussing Pinus rigida with a straight face!) Most of the time, however, the uncertainty is momentary and all can get back to botanizing. However...

A few years ago in South Korea, while feasting on mugwort dumplings and mushroom soup with my advisor and some colleagues from the Korean National Arboretum, we got to talking about plants. As we were conversing, one of our hosts asked us if we wanted to go see a nearby "Pinus plantation." At least, that is what we had thought. Sure, they let the word slip off their tongue as easily as you or I would talk about male anatomy, but we were adults and with straight faces, we stated that yes, that would be a great field trip. We recalled that we were in a foreign place and after several weeks of seeing Pinus koreiensis and Pinis thunbergii in the landscape, we were used to the alternative pronunciation. We continued to talk about conifers, asking more about what the trees were used for, how long the place had been in operation, etc... But they responded with puzzled looks and then hand gestures. Eventually, one of them proceeded to lean back and point to his groin area and shout out "pee-nis, pee-nis, pee-nis!" Thank God he didn't unzip. We laughed a bit and then stopped to think just what the heck did they mean by a "penis plantation", particularly out here in the countryside just south of the DMZ? Our curiosity was quickly satisfied, for after a short drive we found ourselves at an establishment whose entire theme was the male sex organ. They were everywhere. Lightposts, bollards, coathooks, statues, even the chimney to the kiln (see photo below... the big one).

Phalicism is big (pun not intended) in Korea and this place was a juicebar, dedicated to fertility. We were the only men there; the rest of the customers were young women in the midst of pregnancy and their accompanying entourages.

So, back to the question I led with: What is in a name? A lot. Latin names are great in breaking down language barriers and for the most part, the system works. But there are some times when Latin and English words are just too similar!