Guidelines

Guidelines suggested for common names

CAN's

1. We can emulate successful common names. Common names are more successful for other kingdoms and we should look to them for inspiration in some ways. Particular successes may include the birds, freshwater mussels, or robber flies.

2. We can propose replacements for "existing" names in any cases where we can do better. Now is the time to do it! Of course, there are some names that a great many people actually use with great comfort in real life; we should be correspondingly hesitant to propose abandoning those names. But many names have been long-used in print only and have not broken into household usage. Effort to preserve those names is not much called-for, and perhaps their lack of success is actually reason to put effort into seeking alternatives.

3. We can craft original words. Bestowing an original word something dignifies it, in a sense. It communicates that the thing is its own, special, kind of thing. We are all tired of the proliferation of scientific names, but we don't have to be so traumatized that we'll never compose a new word ourselves. What is an "oak", or a "daisy" or an "owl" or a "beetle"? Those words are meaningless—except as common names for those particular organisms; in that capacity they're wildly meaningful. In fact, most of the most successful common names are like this. Animal and plant names, especially, are overflowing with "their own" words.

Lego names—original combinations of unoriginal words (e.g. "woodwax", "stalkball")—are usually better. On the other hand, when they try too hard to describe the mushroom ("brittlestem") they can result in awkwardly repetitive or misleading names. If a Russula has grey-tinted gills, we might end up with the "grey-gilled brittlegill", which sounds bad. If a Pholiota has sharp scales, we might end up with the "sharp-scaled scalecap", which sounds bad. If we grace the groupings with their own words, species names start to sound better: "grey-gilled russula", "sharp-scaled phole".

Shortening scientific names is a fruitful way to compose new words: "pseudo" from/for Pseudobaeospora; "tropse" from/for Tricholomopsis. French-speakers have taken great advantage. Their language has already led to two of our favorite names, "chanterelle" and "morel". Several more of their names are already perfectly suited for otherwise-missing English names: "hydnelle", "xylaire", "strophaire".

4. We can use names without an obvious or sensible etymology. A compelling etymology is a great feature of a name, but a name that has one should still feel right to those who don't know it. And a name that lacks one can still feel right regardless. Some of the most effective names have the least obvious etymology. Lindtneria trachyspora, a scraggly yellow crust, is called the "golden sweetheart". The modifier is obvious; the grouping-name is inscrutable but fully compelling. Equally true in the famous testimony, "Whoever named frogs got it 100% right. Those things are frogs".

5. We can apply one shared name to intercontinental vicariants. It may not be necessary to stick "American" in front of every species with a European equivalent. We are already in the habit of reminding one other that different continents have (slightly) different species. Syllables are valuable; we may not need to spend three of them reiterating this idea every time we refer to these species.

6. We can apply one shared name to all species in a cryptic group.

DO's

Names should ideally be...

1. holistic. Names should reflect, to some extent, a consistent folk taxonomy. Rather than choosing names species-by-species, we should coordinate names in sensible series.

Scientific taxonomy relates species by evolutionary ancestry. This is simple, in a way—it's a single, more-or-less objective type of relatedness. Scientifically, species have straightforward relationships, but still, to make scientific taxonomy digestible for our human brains, we rely on a hierarchy to organize them. This is the Linnaean hierarchy (families, orders, and so on). Taxonomists curate it carefully and we rely on it heavily.

Common names relate species by their salient features—by how we see and feel about them as humans. This can be complicated and subjective, especially with mushrooms. Their diversity is vast, plastic, and confusing. From this perspective, common name users have even more reason than scientific name users to organize their names. From a folk perspective, mushrooms are not an endless parade of independent species, but they are also not leaves on an evolutionary tree. Instead, they're arranged in a folk taxonomy. We do this automatically and intuitively; we can't help grouping mushrooms by how they look and grow and feel. Instead of ignoring that intuition, we can map it out and refine it. Just like a well-informed scientific taxonomy illuminates the evolutionary history of mushrooms, an assiduous folk taxonomy should illuminate their salient features to foragers, hikers, identifiers, and photographers now.

In other words, mushrooms that seem similar should have similar names. The standard way to do this is to form names by pairing a descriptor (e.g. "amethyst") with a grouping (e.g. "deceiver"). These often, but not always, correspond to species and genus. Some natural groupings are only part of a genus; some include many genera; some include parts of some genera and parts of others. While "milk stalk" is a perfectly descriptive name for Mycena galopus, "milkdrop bonnet" is better, because it places the species among the hundreds of other similar species (i.e., mycenoids).

2. consistent. Use "milkcap" or "milky" across the board, not both. Use "-stemmed" or "-stalked" across the board, not both. Use "mushroom" when it produces distinct mushrooms, "fungus" when it doesn't, and of course neither when possible. Have some idea of when to use "bracket", when to use "polypore", and when to use "conk".

3. short. Nobody wants to have to say they've found a "western hardwood chicken-of-the-woods". Few names should have 8 syllables and very few should have 9. To facilitate this, groupings should almost always be 3 syllables or less. None of the groupings of the top 216 most commonly observed birds in the USA (as of August 2022) are longer than 3 syllables. Bird #217 is the "phainopepla", which is the only species of its kind, so no danger of more syllables. Contrast that with our mushrooms, where six of the top fifteen have or imply 4-syllable or longer grouping-names. So do most species in the most charismatic and famous genus we have, the "amanitas". Frankly, this is embarrassing. We're going to have to bite some bullets and find some shorter replacements to use in species names. It might be too bold to suggest calling Amanita species "eggcaps", but we should seriously consider similar proposals for other genera.

Many shortenings are easy choices. "Honey", not "honey mushroom"; "bird's-nest", not "bird's nest fungus"; "waxcap", not "waxycap". Typographically, we should avoid spaces when hyphens will do, and avoid hyphens when one continuous word will do—usually as a grouping-name: "witches'-butter", not "witches' butter"; "turkeytail", not "turkey-tail".

4. euphonic. They should roll off the tongue and sound good. Keep in mind that what sounds bad at first can become pleasant and comfortable after repeated usage, and vice versa. But it's not entirely subjective. "White green-algae coral" (Multiclavula mucida) definitely doesn't roll off the tongue, "scumlover" definitely does (although that name has its own problems). Better "angel wings" than "angel's wings". This is also something to consider for how multiple names play with each other. "Waxcap" and "milkcap" sound totally fine, but when we look at a long list of mushrooms, perhaps including "fibercaps", "webcaps", "domecaps", "scalecaps", "fieldcaps", "inkcaps", and "conecaps", we realize how tiresome that suffix can become. Names should work in the singular and plural. What would you call it, one "plum-and-custard"? Two "plums-and-custards"?

5. useful for ID. If the mushroom has a distinctive feature, the name should refer to it. The name "mahogany trich" is accurate for Tricholoma batschii (the species we've been calling T. fracticum), but perhaps not ideal because the cap color is a less distinctive feature than the abrupt division of the stem pigment. The name should not point more directly to another species. Cystolepiota seminuda has been called the "bearded dapperling", which is not misleading by itself, but most other Cystolepiota species have more of a beard, so it's a bad name.

6. evocative of the mushroom. The name "scumlover" refers to a specific feature of Multiclavula mucida, but it evokes something dirty, sloppy, and degenerate, unlike the bright, clean, delicate, precisely arranged fruitings we usually find. The descriptor "onion-stalk" evokes the taste and smell and texture and layers of an onion, which is jarring for Leucocoprinus cepistipes. The descriptor "marshmallow" is much better aligned with the actual mushroom. Distinctive species should get distinctive names. Battarrea phalloides is ultra-distinctive, so it should have a more compelling name than "scaly-stalked puffball".

7. well-aligned with real-life usage. Common, remarkable, and/or sought-after species should get the best, shortest, and most distinctive names. Gymnopus dryophilus is ubiquitous, so it should have a shorter, catchier name than "oak-loving toughshank". Conversely, uncommon, difficult-to-identify species should have names that sound more abstruse. The scientific epithet in Pholiota stratosa refers to its layered scales (strata). We could call the species the "layered phole", using a comfortable English word for the modifier, but that might make it sound too easy. As an obscure species that doesn't look all that obviously layered, its name might actually be more evocative by using a less clear adjective, as in "stratose phole".

8. based on the epithet, if convenient. We don't want to overcomplicate things. It's nice to be able to recall the scientific name from the common name, or vice versa. The mycologist who described the taxon may have known it intimately and may have put a lot of effort into choosing its name; we might not want to trample over that. For Stropharia coronilla, "garland stropharia" is fine, but why not reflect the epithet and use "crown stropharia" (or, much better, "crown strophaire") instead?

9. established. A name in use (or a similar name) is better than a brand-new one, other things being equal.

DON'T's

Names should ideally...

1. not use hand-me-down groupings. An uncomfortably high portion of mushrooms have grouping names copied verbatim an English word for an object that looks vaguely similar: "funnel", "bonnet", "parchment", "parasol", "vase", "tooth", "ear", "jelly". They aren't all bad, but the proportion should be lower. Hand-me-down names demean their subjects, casting them as mere counterfeits of other things. Hand-me-down names bring a whiff of cognitive dissonance. It's not a vase, it's a mushroom!

Some hand-me-downs are more embarrassing than others. The worst sort carry the greatest risk of "I found a vase in the woods"-style ambiguity. The others retain some dignity with one kind of disambiguator or another, as:

another part of speech—not a noun (e.g. "cabbage white", a butterfly)

a mass noun rather than a count noun (e.g. "cloudless sulphur", a butterfly)

using the "-er" suffix (e.g. "omnivorous looper", a moth)

a person (e.g. "rosy footman", a moth)

something that is not a physical object (e.g. "phaon crescent", a butterfly)

something that does not exist (e.g. "blinded sphinx", a butterfly)

something that would normally only be a part of something else (e.g. "American snout", a butterfly)

2. not sound like descriptions. When a name starts with word we would likely use to describe its appearance in normal conversation, it sounds like a description. "Grey inkcap" is a bad name for Coprinopsis atramentaria, because when we point to one and say "this is a grey inkcap", it's unclear: the listener doesn't know whether we mean it's the species C. atramentaria, or we just mean it's an inkcap that's grey in color. "Silver" can communicate the same thing as "grey" with less confusion. Likewise "golden" is a common common-name replacement for "yellow". "Black-staining polypore" is how many mycophiles would simply describe a polypore that stains black; hence we have reason to choose the less description-like, more name-like "blackening polypore". In other words, we should be careful with hand-me-down modifiers too.

3. not include a scientific name verbatim. The name "crown stropharia" goes down the drain if taxonomists move the species out of Stropharia, and it already leaves the entirely equally stropharioid Leratiomyces species in the lurch. We can drop excess syllables and solve both problems by treating species in both genera as something like "strophaires". "Pholiota" has appeared in common names for mushrooms that now belong in, at least, Agrocybe, Cortinarius, Galerina, Gymnopilus, Hemipholiota, Kuehneromyces, Phaeolepiota, and Phaeomarasmius. They can't all be "pholiotas", but they can all be "pholes". We should certainly make occasional exceptions when a scientific name is well-established in casual conversation, sounds good, is on firm scientific footing, and there isn't a better alternative—"russula" is great for Russula.

4. not be suggested for species that nobody can recognize in the field. That effort amounts to a waste of time, a waste of names, and a waste of an opportunity to associate the species with one informed, useful name, later, after someone gets to know it. We are learning our mushrooms quickly.

5. not be overly goofy or demeaning. The names "totally tedious tubaria" (Tubaria furfuracea), "General Tso's slimecap" (Limacella glischra), and "chicken lips" (Leotia viscosa) are cute nicknames we have every reason to keep around. But they aren't appropriate for "the" most standard common name. Imagine for every species that it's going to be critically endangered, and its common name is going to have to be used in a formal proposal asking for real resources to be diverted to its conservation. Sure, a lot of great common names are cute (some are even puns), which I love individually—but the proportion shouldn't be too high. The line between engaging the public and embarrassing mycology might be blurry, but it does exist somewhere. We can and should still give taxa nicknames left and right... just separately from the common names and the scientific names.

6. not be illogical. If a name ends with a thing, the mushroom should be that thing. We shouldn't be calling Polyozellus multiplex a "blue chanterelle" while also claiming that it's not a chanterelle. Hence, a similar but different grouping name, like "polyozelle", is better.

7. NEVER be word-level suffixes of other names. We can't call Desarmillaria caespitosa the "ringless honey mushroom" and still call Armillaria mellea simply the "honey mushroom". If something is a ringless honey mushroom, it's also a honey mushroom. If we call Tylopilus rubrobrunneus the "reddish-brown bitter bolete" and T. felleus simpy the "bitter bolete", we're going to have a bad time. When someone finds a T. rubrobrunneus, we won't be able to answer whether it's a bitter bolete or not. An exception is the "false" prefix, because nobody would assume that a "false chanterelle" is a chanterelle.

8. NEVER imply edibility for a significantly toxic species. One old book named Paxillus involutus the "brown chanterelle", which is dangerous.

EXAMPLE

Trichaptum biforme is a hyper-common, distinctive species found in bulk throughout the year across all of Eastern North America (and present in the West too). It's known in most resources as the "violet-toothed polypore". This name is a disaster. It implies the mushroom is a polypore that also has teeth, but that's not quite what's going on. It starts as a polypore, and the pore walls gradually transition into teeth. The name implies it's specifically the teeth that are violet, but the teeth aren't much more violet than any other part. The name is quite dull, a combination of three words that are ubiquitous among mushroom names. This doesn't suit a mushroom that's so distinctive in abundance, appearance, and phylogeny (among the dozens of bracket genera in the Hymenochaetales, Trichaptum is one of only two common light-colored ones).

Most ruinously, the name becomes unmanageably long as soon as we account for T. biforme being only one species in a genus of many. It's obvious that our Trichaptum species should all have comparable common names (they all share the violet tint and variations upon that remarkable fertile surface). Calling T. biforme the "violet-toothed polypore" and T. abietinum the "purplepore bracket" is a joke—the names sound unrelated, but mean the same thing, and don't tell us anything about the distinction. Both names are about equally misleading (or accurate) for both species. So, what do we get—T. biforme being the "hardwood violet-toothed polypore", T. abietinum the "conifer violet-toothed polypore"? Those are lousy eight- and nine-syllable descriptions, not names we're going to say repeatedly in the woods.

We need something shorter, more distinctive, and less misleading. Without any good candidates in play already, let's look for an original word, particularly one that evokes something familiar about the mushroom. Let's make something newer and shorter, with less baggage, from the words we were already looking at—"violettooth". It obviously comes from a contraction of "violet-toothed polypore", but the etymology isn't the point—a common name should work as a standalone word. It evokes violet and it doesn't mean anything else. We get "hardwood violettooth" and "conifer violettooth", names that are actually starting to sound like real common names. The names sound weird and special, and the mushroom is weird and special.

Note: It now seems doubtful that hardwood and conifer substrates reliably distinguish T. biforme from T. abietinum. So, in the list of proposed names, T. biforme is listed as "common violettooth" and T. abietinum is left off, pending a better understanding of their field characteristics.

Next:

Specific names proposed for consideration