Salmon comes directly from the Latin salmo, a salmon, which literally meant the leaper, from salire—to leap. Sturgeon, from the Saxon was stiriga, literally a stirrer, from the habit of the fish of stirring up the mud at the bottom of the water. Dace, through its mediæval forms darce and dars, is from the same root as our word dart, given on account of the swiftness of the fish.
Anchovy is interesting as perhaps from the Basque word antzua, meaning dry; hence the dried fish; and mullet is from the Latin mullus. Herring is well worth following back to its origin. We know that the most marked habit of fishes of this type is their herding together in great schools or masses or armies. In the very high German heri meant an army or host; hence our word harry and, with a suffix, herring.
Hake in Norwegian means hook, and the term hake or hook-fish was given because of the hooked character of the under-jaw. Mackerel comes from macarellus and originally the Latin macula—spotted, from the dark spots on the body. Roach and ray both come from the Latin raria, applied then as in the latter case now to bottom-living sharks.
Flounder comes from the verb, which in turn is derived from flounce, a word which is lost in antiquity. Tarpon (and the form tarpum) may be an Indian word; while there is no doubt as to grouper coming from garrupa, a native Mexican name. Chubb (a form of cub) meant a chunky mass or lump, referring to the body of the fish. Shad is lost in sceadda, Anglo-Saxon for the same fish.
Lamprey and halibut both have histories, which, at first glance, we would never suspect, although the forms have changed but little. The former have a habit of fastening themselves for hours to stones and rocks, by means of their strong, sucking mouths. So the Latin form of the word lampetra, or literally lick-rock, is very appropriate. Halibut is equally so. But or bot in several languages means a certain flounder-like fish, and in olden times this fish was eaten only on holidays (i.e., holy days). Hence the combination halibut means really holy-flounder.
The meaning of these words and many others are worth knowing, and it is well to be able to answer with other than ignorance the question “What’s in a name?”
THE DYING YEAR
When a radical change of habits occurs, as in the sapsucker, deviating so sharply from the ancient principles of its family, many other forms of life about it are influenced, indirectly, but in a most interesting way. In its tippling operations it wastes quantities of sap which exudes from the numerous holes and trickles down the bark of the wounded tree. This proves a veritable feast for the forlorn remnant of wasps and butterflies,—the year’s end stragglers whose flower calyces have fallen and given place to swelling seeds.