Named for the wrong thing

Birds whose names promise something they don't deliver

Some birds are named for a bird they are not, and some for a mark you will never see. Both kinds are a lesson in how names get given: by whoever got there first, from wherever they happened to be standing.

Juvenile American Robin

Brooklyn Botanic Garden, 17 June 2026

A fledgling robin not long out of the nest, in the Botanic Garden in mid-June. Robins nest everywhere in the city, two or three broods a summer, and June is full of young ones like this on lawns and paths, still being fed by a parent.

The heavy spotting across a still-pale breast, with rust only starting to show at the flanks, marks the age; the smooth orange breast and adult colour come in over the following weeks. The spotted juvenile plumage is the ancestral thrush pattern. American Robins are unusual among North American thrushes in losing it as adults, while a Wood Thrush keeps its spots for life.

Red-winged Blackbird, male

San Diego, 6 March 2026

A male Red-winged Blackbird side-on, the red shoulder patch bordered by a thin band of yellow that is often the only part visible when the patch is held closed against the body. The epaulet is the whole argument: a male whose red is painted over loses his territory within days, and a male with a bigger patch holds a bigger one. Among the most abundant land birds in North America, though marsh-bound enough to be an occasional sight in a city.

Yellow Warbler, male

Green-Wood Cemetery, 25 May 2026

A male Yellow Warbler at Green-Wood in late May, back from Central America to breed in the willows and shrubs at the water's edge. It is the most widespread warbler in North America, from Alaska to Mexico, and one of the few that breeds in the park rather than passing through.

One of the few warblers that is genuinely, almost entirely yellow, including the wing and tail edges; the fine chestnut streaking on the breast marks a male. Yellow Warblers have a specific defence against Brown-headed Cowbirds, which lay eggs in other species' nests: on finding a cowbird egg, a Yellow Warbler will build a new nest floor over the whole clutch and start again, sometimes stacking several floors in a season.

Ring-necked Duck, male

San Diego, 6 March 2026

A drake Ring-necked Duck close up, wintering on a San Diego pond after a summer on the lakes of the boreal forest. It is a diving duck that prefers small, quiet water, and a park pond in California suits it well.

The pale grey bill markings show clearly enough to make sense of the species' alternative name in some older field guides, Ring-billed Duck, which was dropped mainly to avoid confusion with the Ring-billed Gull. The purple gloss on the head only shows at certain angles; in flat light the same feathers read as simply black.

Red-bellied Woodpecker

Central Park, 21 September 2025

A Red-bellied Woodpecker wedged into a fork in the bark in Central Park in September, a woodpecker of the eastern woodlands that has spread north into New York within living memory and now lives in every park in the city, all year.

The red that gives the species its name is barely visible in the field, a faint wash low on the belly, while the red cap and nape that actually catch the eye don't feature in the name at all. The tongue is the thing: it extends nearly two inches past the bill, barbed and sticky, and wraps around the back of the skull when retracted.

Orange-crowned Warbler

San Diego Botanic Garden, 7 March 2026

An Orange-crowned Warbler in the scrub of a San Diego garden, where it lives all year on the coast; the species breeds across the West and up into Alaska and winters in the southern states, and Southern California has it in every season.

Named for a marking almost nobody sees. The orange crown patch is usually hidden under the surrounding olive feathers and only shows when the bird is agitated or displaying. Otherwise this is a genuinely plain warbler, identified mostly by what it lacks: no wing bars, no strong face pattern, just a faint broken eye-ring and a dingy yellow-olive wash overall.

Nashville Warbler

Green-Wood Cemetery, 28 September 2025

A Nashville Warbler at Green-Wood at the end of September, passing through from the bogs and second-growth of the north to Mexico. It is a warbler of scrubby, regrowing woodland, and it comes through Brooklyn in small numbers every autumn.

A grey hood, a bold white eye-ring, and no wing bars at all: the combination that rules out most of the other yellow-breasted warblers passing through in fall. Named for the city only because that happened to be where the type specimen was collected on migration in 1811. The bird has no particular tie to Tennessee and neither breeds nor winters anywhere near it.