“If I'm gonna tell a real story, I'm gonna start with my name.” — Kendrick Lamar

While a one-definition-fits-all for what is a species continues to be elusive, species are nevertheless a foundation for understanding populations, natural communities, biodiversity, and evolution. Conservation efforts are also often species-centric, since conservation laws are explicitly species focused; however, there is an effort to encourage conservation to be more place-based, focusing on landscapes that harbor high levels of biodiversity and/or that act as refugia having a greater potential to buffer species against the effects of threats, such as climate change. Place-based conservation has a greater potential to have long-lasting success since it takes a broader, more inclusive view of protecting ecosystem processes, functions, and aquifer integrity, rather than whether a particular species is present. Still, even place-based approaches include species protection as success criteria. 

Regardless of species definitions, all recognized species today are placed within a taxonomic hierarchy originally conceptualized by Carolus Linnaeus in 1737. That hierarchy in its current iteration begins with a Domain, Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, and finally, Species. This hierarchy defines a species’ level of relatedness with any other life form on our planet. Prior to Linnaeus, a given species could have multiple names idiosyncratic to individual villages, regions, or languages; there was no way to sort out the broader distributions and relationship of plants and animals to each other. As a result of the Linnaean system, every known species is placed into one hierarchy with a name unique to that species recognized world-wide. Typically, the only two names most of us see in a field guide or on iNaturalist is the genus and species. 

There is, however, some grumbling about these names, a debate that centers on the fact that Linnaeus’ naming system often reflects the name of the person who first “collected” a given species, or a Latin or Greek description of that species’ characteristics, or a Latinized description of the place where that species occurs, all typically determined by a European or person of European descent. The debate, rooted in colonial arrogance versus indigenous priority, is that those names ignore the fact that these organisms were first “collected” and given names by indigenous people wherever a given species occurs, and that name was in use long before any European emerged from their primitive straw and rock huts to explore the rest of the world. If adopted, Bigelow beargrass, Nolina bigelovii, could revert to its original Cahuilla name, kuku’ul, and jumping or teddy bear cholla, Cylindropuntia bigelovii, to chukal. One problem is that plants and animals have ranges that intersect with multiple tribal regions, each with their own name for each plant or animal. One of the central rules of the Linnaeus’ system is that the first name given a species has priority, but then which tribe would be given that priority and should that priority be in lieu of Linnaeus’ hierarchy or added to it? If we did revert to the indigenous “first names” would we then, like times before Linnaeus, limit our abilities to synthesize patterns from the “tree of life”? Or is it enough to acknowledge that those indigenous people were the first naturalists and scientists. Food for thought.

Back in Linnaeus’ day, as it still is today, the process of species naming began with naturalists, field biologists, and explorers who collected specimens to document their occurrences. Those specimens were shipped to scientists, taxonomists that were experts in particular animal or plant groups, often residing in museums such as the Smithsonian Institution in Washington D.C. or the British Museum of Natural History in London. There the specimens were sorted, their phylogenetic relationships parsed, and if not previously described through the Linnean system, assigned their binomial genus and species designations. The modern addition is that a species genetics has become a critical step in assessing where they fit in a taxonomic tree. 

We often hear the same surnames on the species end of genus and species binomials. That does not mean that scientists were repeatedly naming different species after themselves. In fact, if not by rule, then certainly by policy, taxonomists never name species after themselves. Rather, they sometimes name them after the collector who sent them the specimens. A cactus specialist might receive a new cactus specimen, a yucca specialist might receive a new yucca specimen, and an oak specialist might receive a new oak specimen, all from the same collector, with the result that each specimen could then be named after the collector. For the deserts of the southwestern U.S. many, many new species were collected by a series of surveys conducted to precisely delineate the new U.S.-Mexico border in the middle of the 19^th century. The surveyors not only identified the new international border, but they also collected plant and animal specimens and shipped them back to the Smithsonian to be catalogued and named. Those surveyors included Arthur C. V. Schott, a German immigrant for whom Peucephyllum schottii (desert fir, false pygmy cedar), and Psorothamnus schottii (Schott’s indigo bush) were named. They included Charles Christopher Parry, born in Glouchester, England in 1823, whose name was given to Penstemon parryi, Agave parryi, Circium Parryi, and Condalia parryi. Parry discovered many other plants. One of them was the beautiful yucca called “Our Lords Candle.” He named it Yucca whipplei for Lieutenant (later General) Amiel Weeks Whipple. Pinus quadrifolia, the four-needle piñon, was originally Pinus parryi. Its common name is still Parry piñon.

At Torrey Pines, you will find the saxifrage Jepsonia parryi. There was William Hemsley Emory, who collected specimens of Perityle emoryi (rock daisy), Condea emoryi (desert lavender), Psorothamnus emoryi (dye weed), and Quercus emoryi (Emory oak). Edward Palmer was also a member of the multiple surveyor teams who collected Penstemon palmeri, Quercus palmeri, Agave palmeri, and Tequilia palmeri. Another included John Milton Bigelow - Nolina bigelovii, and Cylindropuntia bigelovii. We repeat these names when identifying plants along desert trails, but instead of just a name think of the hardships, adventures and joy of discovery (even though the species were already well known to the indigenous tribes), each of these naturalists experienced.

Nullius in verba

Go outside, tip your hat to a chuckwalla (and a cactus), think like a mountain, and be safe