Finders keepers, sort of. How to name your new species.

Any person who discovers a new species has the right to choose its scientific name, and to party as best as scientists can. After the celebrations, it’s time to find a name for that new fern you found.

I’m sorry to say that My Little Ferny isn’t going to pass the test. Rules stipulate that you have to choose a binomial name, which has to be in Latin and must adhere to a long list of rules provided by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature.

Remember the hierarchy of biological classifications? Just in case, here’s a refresher: At the top is Life, which is followed by Domain, Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species. The first half of a binomial name is the Genus, the second half is the Species. Let’s say that fern you found belongs to the Equisetum genus. The species name? That’s for you to decide.

You might choose the standard route and name your fern after a specific physical characteristic it displays. Or you’ll base the name on the place you found it, e.g. Reno or a deep dark cave. How it looks and where it lives is a reasonably safe bucket of names and ideas to pull from. Most discoverers use this bucket.

Alternatively, you could take the ego-centric approach and name the species after yourself, a loved one, or a significant figure in your life. Do you love a girl named Sally? Your fern might very well be named Equisetum sallae, or however you say Sally in Latin. All fine and dandy right?

Sure, but there’s another option: monetize the process. A case study by the United Nations Environment Programme examines the advantages of having a benefactor own the naming rights of a new species after donating money to support conservation  efforts that are tailored to their chosen life form. Cool stuff.

One organization, known as BIOPAT, has been selling the species naming rights since 1999. For €2400 you can name a Cushion Weevil, or for €4500 you can name the Spurred Forest Beauty orchid. Weevils = €. Orchids = €€.

This leaves us in a moral no man’s land. On one side is the discomfort that comes with selling the rights to something that nobody truly owns, and on the other is the financial support that conservationists yearn for.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Go find some species, pad the wallet, and save the world. Brilliant, just remember who told you about this gig.