About Me

My photo
Canberra-based naturalist, conservationist, educator since 1980. I’m passionate about the natural world (especially the southern hemisphere), and trying to understand it and to share such understandings. To that aim I’ve written several books (most recently 'Birds in Their Habitats' and 'Australian Bird Names; origins and meanings'), and run tours all over Australia, and for 17 years to South and Central America. I've done a lot of ABC radio work, chaired a government environmental advisory committee and taught many adult education classes – and of course presented this blog, since 2012. I am a recipient of the Australian Natural History Medallion, the Australian Plants Award and most recently a Medal of the Order of Australia for ‘services to conservation and the environment’. I live happily in suburban Duffy with my partner Louise surrounded by a dense native garden and lots of birds.

Thursday, 27 November 2025

Can There Be Beauty in a Scientific Name?

Well yes, if part of it starts with cali or calo or cala (or the same with a double l). This is because they all derive from the Greek kallos for beauty. This time I'm the midst of the three-part series of An Alphabet of National Parks which has proved both satisfying and demandingly time-consuming, so I've opted for something a bit lighter for both of us. We could probably all do with a bit of simple beauty in a world that is rapidly becoming decidedly unbeautiful in many ways, so I've chosen to do a simple photo essay on some plants and animals whose beauty the scientist who described them thought deserved recognition. (Of course I could also describe just about any plant or animal thus, and beauty has been described or implied in scientific names using other words too, but as I've suggested I just wanted to keep it simple today, so cal- names it is.) Let's start at the top, so to speak.

Male Gang-gang Cockatoo Callocephalon fimbriatum, Canberra (where it is our
territorial bird emblem). This one means 'beautiful head' (actually literally 'beauty head'
but I'm going with the implication rather than the literal translation in each case). 
I can't argue with the name, though it does only apply to the male.

Oddly, it is quite possible that beneath it in a grassy summer understorey was a pretty native daisy with an almost identical genus name, meaning exactly the same thing.

Lemon Beauty Heads Calocephalus citreus, a common plant of native grassland -
a habitat which of course isn't at all common any more. 
(We know that no two plants or animals can have exactly the same genus name, 
but there is nothing to stop a plant and animal having the same name as each other, 
and these two almost achieved that.)
I have more examples of 'beauty' plants than animals today so we'll continue with them, and we might as well stick with daisies for now.

Two for the price of one in fact, both burr daisies in the genus Calotis which, somewhat
unexpectedly, means 'beautiful ear'. Coincidentally it was due to the purple one here,
C. cuneifolia (Purple Burr Daisy, obviously!) which apparently has 'ear-shaped pappus scales'.
(The pappus being the base of the individual floret which collectively form the flower head, 
on the off-chance that you were wondering.) The other is Yellow Burr Daisy (of course),
C. lappulacea; they were covering the ground in Cocoparra NP, in the NSW Riverina.

Unsurprisingly (to me at least!) there are prominent instances of beauty in orchid names. Perhaps the most familiar genus of Australian ground orchids is Caladenia which means 'beautiful glands'. Not the most romantic of names but apparently a tribute to the often ornamented labellums - the landing platform for pollinating insects that appears front and centre in these orchids. 

(I say 'these orchids' though there is still considerable controversy over the recent suppression of the application of detailed biochemical work which lead to this enormous genus being broken up into more manageable smaller genera, which also corresponded to intuitive sub-groups. It's the way of modern botanical taxonomy which favours massive lumps of genera and families, as opposed to the more nuanced approach of most zoologists. However for now I must follow the currently prevailing orthodoxy, with reservations.) For this reason I've offered two very different Caladenia examples here.

Exotic Spider Orchid (please don't ask me to explain that one!) Caladenia nivalis 
at Sugarloaf Rock in Leeuwin Naturaliste NP in the far south-west of WA.

Cowslip Orchids Caladenia flava, south-west WA. Yellow is a most unusual
colour in Caladenia, and this one is common and widespread. I miss them
when I leave the south-west after one of my too infrequent visits.
Another orchid genus which is especially dear to my heart is Calochilus, the beard orchids (and those who know me will readily understand the connection). This one means 'beautiful lip', another appreciative nod to the labellum, which is the most striking feature of the genus.

Mountain Beard Orchids Calochilus montanus Black Mountain NR, Canberra.
This might be an opportune time to issue a 'beware of false friends' warning here too. For instance it could be tempting to search for the beauty in the name of the fabulous Flying Duck Orchid Caleana major, but in this case the 'cal-' is part of someone's name. George Caley was a collector for Sir Joseph Banks in the early days of the 19th century in the Sydney colony, and it was named for him.    
But I can't say that without showing you a photo of one anyway, can I? Sorry!
This one was in the Blue Mountains.
And now I should be a little less self-indulgent and move on to other 'beautiful' plants. Probably the most familiar of these are the bottlebrushes Callistemon, which means 'beautiful stamens'. Nothing much to clarify here - the inflorescence comprises numerous individual flowers which in turn are primarily made up of showy stamens. I can see some out of my study window as I type.
Scarlet Bottlebrush Callistemon rugulosus, Wanilla CP, Eyre Peninsula,
South Australia. This beauty is found in south-eastern SA and western Victoria.
In line with my earlier comments on Caladenia taxonomy, there is a strong move to 
shove all of Callistemon, plus no less than eight south-western genera, into Melaleuca.
For the rest of the beauty plant genera, I'll just introduce them alphabetically.

Blue Grass Lily Caesia calliantha, Kama NR, Canberra. Here the 'beauty' is in the
species name and it is pretty straightforward - it simply means 'beautiful flower'.

Blue Tinsel Lily Calectasia grandiflora, Moore River NP, 100km north of Perth.
This one is not nearly so obvious, being 'beautiful development'. It seems that the great
Scottish botanist Robert Brown (who sailed with Flinders on the Endeavour) was 
referring to the spreading petals and sepals.

Black Wattle Callicoma serratifolia, south coast NSW. Callicoma means
'beautiful hair', a somewhat fanciful reference to the fluffy flower heads.
(The common name is a bit more problematic, as despite appearances this plant is in no way an 
acacia, but is in the same family as the NSW Christmas Bush, Cunoniaceae. It may be that 
the settlers mistook it for a wattle, or more likely I think they just didn't care about that and 
used the stems in the same way as they used those of wattles in 'wattle and daub' building.)

Black Cypress Pine Callitris endlicheri, Cooma, southern NSW.
The meaning of Callitris is a bit enigmatic. Today a taxonomist will generally
explain the reasoning behind their choice of name, but they are not obliged to
do so and in earlier times it was common to leave us guessing. It is generally 
asserted that it means 'beautiful trinity' for the scaly leaves which are 
purportedly in clusters of three, but it is sometimes reported that 'Jaeger'
(perhaps the German botanist Hermann Jäger?) claimed that it had
'no meaning' - or maybe he just couldn't work it out.

Garland Lily Calostemma purpureum, Weddin Mountains NP, south-western
slopes of NSW. The genus name is echoed in the common name; it means
'beautiful garland or crown'. It's a spectacular plant in the amaryllis family,
which shoots from a tuber then flowers in summer, sometimes covering the 
landscape with - well, garlands of flowers.

A one-sided bottlebrush (no specific common name) Calothamnus blepharospermus,
Kalbarri NP, near Geraldton, west coast WA; it is pretty much restricted to the park. 
Another perfectly straightforward one to translate; it means simply 'beautiful shrub'. 
I suppose that the effort of coming up with new names all day must sometimes get a bit much! 
This is one of those genera which some would shovel into the already bulging Melaleuca
see earlier comments under Callistemon.
Marri Corymbia calophylla, John Forrest NP, Stirling Ranges near Perth, WA.
The species name means simply 'beautiful leaf' but it's not at all clear why the eminent 
Robert Brown thought the leaves worthy of such praise (rather than say, the very striking 
fruits) but the comment under the previous photo probably applies here too. 
As I flagged earlier the 'beautiful' offerings among animal names are less bountiful, but I can offer four birds, two mammals and one each of insects, reptiles and frogs. Doubtless there are more out there but I'm limited to ones I can illustrate from my own photos.

Brown Barbet Caloramphus fuliginosus, Sabah, Malaysian Borneo, a Borneo endemic.
Strangely its name means 'beautiful beak'... No, it's not obvious to me either, I'm 
just reporting. They always look a bit scruffy too; I do like barbets though!

Opal-crowned Tanager Tangara callophrys, Sacha Lodge, Yasuní NP,
Ecuadorian Amazonia; this was from the somewhat challenging Kapok
Tower up in the canopy of a huge old Kapok Tree at Sacha Lodge. 
callophrys 
means 'beautiful eyebrow', which seems fair.
(In fact it probably seems fairer than 'opal-crowned', though the nifty
opalescent eyebrow does stretch around the forehead too.)

Purple-throated Mountain-gem Lampornis calolaemus, Monteverde cloudforests,
central Costa Rica. This one's name is pretty indisputable too - simply 
'beautiful throat'.

Scarlet-backed Woodpecker Veniliornis callonotus, in the dry lowland forest
of Pomac in northern coastal Peru. Again the translation and meaning
are both pretty straightforward - 'beautiful back'.
And here are a couple of appreciated mammals with beautified names.
Common (or, more usefully, White-tufted) Marmoset Callithrix jacchus near São Paulo, 
southern Brazil. This time the genus name means 'beautiful hair', and it was based 
on this species. It is actually native to northern Brazil but there are populations
near São Paulo (and Buenos Aires), presumably deriving from escaped or released pets.

Plantain Squirrel Callosciurus notatus, Singapore Botanic Gardens.
Callosciurus is simply 'beautiful squirrel'. Many of the genus are actually pretty
plain, but this one's bright orange tummy makes it pretty smart. The genus though was
named for Prevost's Squirrel C. prevostii which is similarly orange-bellied.
And lastly the reptile, frog and butterfly.

Northern Green Tree Snake Dendrelaphis calligaster Iron Range, far northern Queensland.
I apologise for the awful photo - an ancient slide, poorly scanned - but it was my only 
option for a 'beautifully-named' reptile. The 'beautiful belly' of the species name
refers to its yellow undersides, not really visible here.

Red-eyed Tree Frogs Agalychnis callidryas, Piedras Blancas NP,
far southern Cost Rica. This much-photographed tree frog, more colourful than
this photo suggests, with blue belly and yellow sides, has a more classically
poetical name than other organisms we've met today. 
callidryas means 'beautiful wood nymph'.

Hydaspes Eighty-eight Callicore hydaspes, Iguacu Falls, Brazil. Almost every
aspect of this name is perplexing. Callicore apparently means 'beautiful maid', though I've also
seen it translated as 'beautiful thing'. Somewhere I also saw 'beautiful heart' suggested, though
that would mean an awkward mix of Greek and Latin, which wouldn't be the first time.
However it would also seem to be meaningless in this context. On the other hand so does
the English group name 'eighty-eight', which supposedly is the shape on the underwing. 
Hmm. But it's probably more evident in other species in the genus. And lastly hydaspes 
apparently refers to an Indian river with mythical connotations. Strange indeed.
It is a beautiful butterfly though!

Well I hope I've introduced a little extra beauty into your life, even if for only as long as took you to read this far. It was fun to put together so I hope it was fun to read - thanks for doing so.

Next time I'll be wrapping up the Alphabet of National Parks series for the penultimate post of the year.

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY 18 DECEMBER

I love to receive your comments and in future will be notifying you personally by email when a new posting appears, if you'd like me to. All current subscribers have been added to this mailing list and have already been contacted. This will mean one email every three weeks at the current rate of posting. I promise never to use the list for any other purpose and will never share it.
Should you wish to be added to it, just send me an email at calochilus51@internode.on.net. You can ask to be removed from the list at any time,or could simply mark an email as Spam, so you won't see future ones.
If you do leave a comment - and I love it when you do - please remember to click the
box below your comment that says 'Email follow-up comments to...[your address]'
so you'll know when I reply - and I always do!


No comments: