Living in the tropics means that green tree frogs often take residence in the toilet. Our toilet frogs were Humphrey and James. And there was also George that would get in my kitchen cupboards.
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I used to feel very similar, and loved finding frogs in the dog bowl in the morning! They were adorable and made a great noise during the night. Then I would have to remind myself that frogs are the favourite food of various cobras, and so from then on the water bowls stayed outside during the night, just to be sure.
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There is one chipmunk who hangs out in a Cedar tree in my backyard. His name is Deebo, and he’s an absolute diva. He will start ‘barking’ up a storm if anyone comes within, like, 30 feet of his tree. He’ll also chase other chipmunks and squirrels off it.
Also, unrelated but sorta related, I will immediately assign the title ‘little goober’ to any small rodent/mollusk/insect. They’re just such little goobers :)
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When I come across a fast-moving spider, I say “hello, speeder!” It never fails to amuse me
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Not just animals.
There is a small grove of very old red oaks in my local park. It is a dense, dark, quiet little section of the trail. (Great for fungi, bugs and slime molds!)
Right in the middle is one beautiful, massive and straight specimen that lords over the rest. I once measured the circumference with my arms at shoulder height, and it was over 11 feet.
Everytime I pass I bow my head slightly and whisper, ‘Greetings, Your Majesty.’
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Do you have an Observation of this tree? I would very much like to see it.
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Doesn’t quite capture the ambience of the setting but here’s the observation. (For scale, I’ve included my leg in the shot. Note: my height is six-four)
https://www.inaturalist.ca/observations/124458438
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And rightly so, she is most likely the Mother tree.
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In summer I had named an animal - but for a different reason. How do I start? Cockroaches (the big ones) are the only animals I really detest. In summer, when I had the windows of the living room open all night, I twice found a Periplaneta americana. The first one only had three legs and I managed to catch it with a glass and chuck it outside - not before making an observation for the never-home alone-project. The second sat on a plant on the windowsill. I carefully put the pot outside and kicked it off. Then I had one in my bathroom - which is at the other end of the flat. It would have to run through the living-room and pass the kitchen to end up in the bathroom. Later I thought it might have come through the ventilation grid (which of course looks much too small). It gave me a big fright and just disappeared somewhere. Two or three more times this happened - and always with various days in between, when I hoped it would have disappeared for good or feared it might have installed itself in the kitchen (or bedroom). Then I thought, if I have to live together with it, it should at least get a name. So I named it Paula. P like Periplaneta and the word is female, too. She had one broken off antenna. And it worked :-) - going to the toilet and thinking I might encounter Paula felt a bit less disgusting. One day I was getting a towel for the cat, which was sick, and chose the one from the bottom of the pile. And there sits Paula and grins waves her antennae. If I were the screaming type, I would have screamed! Instead I shook the towel over the toilet bowl, closed the lid and flushed. Then I looked again, she was still floating there and yes she had one shorter antenna. That was the end of Paula (and I didn’t even take a photo).
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In 2021, all of the captive-raised Great Lakes Piping Plover chicks were called “Bob”, because one of their bands was a split blue/orange/blue.
The one that I actually met was called Guy Bob Haley, a name that is at least twice as big as the bird.
https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/218394753
The story is even longer than the name, and I always thought somebody ought to write “The Ballad of Guy Bob Haley” to go with it.
Most Great Lakes Piping Plovers do not get actual names, although many acquire nicknames. However, the ones who nest on busy public beaches, like the ones in Chicago and Nellie and Nish in Ohio, tend to be given names for purposes of public relations. They are just entirely too cute, so you’re going to get way too attached either way.
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Well, a few days ago I noticed this Common House Spider behind some plant pots. Today I put a new storage bench in the room, which meant moving the plant pots. That meant that the spider’s web was damaged, because it connected the plant pots to the wall. After finishing positioning the storage bench, I placed the pots back near (not exactly at) where they were before. Without even thinking about it, out of my mouth came the words, “And now Miss Spidey can rebuild her web.” So I guess that’s her name now, even though it sounds silly to me and I don’t like it very much.
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My spiders are called Owen: https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/164298180
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I am not as creative at naming as many of you are.
This coyote was nicknamed “Mr. No Tail” because, although you can’t tell from the photo, he was missing much of his tail. (don’t know why we assumed it was male)
And this fox, which frequents our yard, is merely called “Foxy”:
But in order to compensate for giving him (or her) such an unimaginative name, we’ve had him immortalized as a custom weathervane.
And the weathervane is also called… you guessed it! “Foxy”
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unless it’s been eaten by one of the lizards, frogs, or snakes, theres a snail in my garden named Kevin:
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This is Sarah https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/226011265
She’s a piebald dark eyed junco, and it took me a long time to identify her! For the past two years Sarah has nested near my apartment, though unfortunately never successfully.
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This reminded me of something I wrote many, many years ago, when I was living in another place, which I have gone to look up.
Every year a pair of doves nests in our camelia. (I like to think it’s the same pair, though I know that’s probably not the case, just me being fanciful and García Márquez-ish.) Nonetheless every year Pepita hears the birds, discovers the nest, and joyfully devours the eggs. Since last summer, however, she has grown deaf and so this year she never found them. They were able to hatch and mature and finally fly away, this year’s brood of nestlings, because my dog is fading. What an odd, odd silver lining.
Pepita was a brilliant dog who lived without shame and was gone two months after I wrote that.
Perhaps someone’s cat is taking Sarah’s eggs and perhaps that creature’s life cycle will allow for Sarah to be a mother yet. (I hope so.)
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Speaking of nestlings, this year a kestrel pair bred near my house, using the tree outside as a common perch. The female was dubbed Potato for her habit of fluffing up in all but the warmest weather. My friend suggested the babies should be collectively known as the tater tots.
I think I name animals I see daily, can identify as an individual, and expect to stick around a bit. I guess the downside of naming a wild animal is that one can become invested in their survival and want to intervene on their behalf. Whether that is ethical probably depends on the situation.
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Those are so cute!
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Never name an animal you could possibly want to eat…
Which is why as a kid we never named the bobby calves we were raising for the freezer.
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I know a father who’s kid liked to raise calves in such a similar fashion. He insisted that they be given names like “Topside”, “Porterhouse” or “Roast”.
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