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3 June
Arhinolemur: The mammal that’s really a fish

It’s one of the strangest fish names ever. Why? Because it was originally proposed for a mammal, not a fish.

Arhinolemur was described by Argentine paleontologist Florentino Ameghino (1853-1911) in 1898. He based the description on a single small, incomplete skull discovered in the cliffs Paraná, Argentina, by Pedro Scalabrini (1848-1916), an Italian-born history teacher and fossil hunter. Ameghino assigned the fossil to an extinct order of lemur-like mammals and named it accordingly: á– (ἄ), a Greek privative, i.e., without; rhinós (ῥινός), genitive of rhís (ῥίς), snout; lemur, small, tree-dwelling primate of Madagascar, referring to its “obliterated anterior nasal aperture” (translation).

In 1945, American paleontologist George Gaylord Simpson (1902-1984) reexamined the fossil and determined it to be the “crushed skull of fish.” In 1986, Uruguayan paleontologist Álvaro Mones (b. 1942) suggested that the fossil belonged to the fish order Characiformes. In 2012, a team of paleontologists and ichthyologists confirmed Mones’ suspicion, identifying the fossil as a species of Leporinus within the South American characiform family Anostomidae. In March of this year, a team of nine paleontologists and ichthyologists reassigned Arhinolemur — and its one species, A. scalabrinii, named for its discoverer — to the anostomid genus Megaleporinus based on its 3/3 dental formula and the incisiform shape of the upper and lower teeth.

Since Arhinolemur (proposed in 1898) predates Megaleporinus (proposed in 2017), the name of the fossil genus clearly has nomenclatural priority. Faced with the oddity of rechristening a genus of large extant species (some of them commercially important) with an obscure name originally conceived for a skull fragment of a non-existent extinct genus of lemur-like mammals, the authors considered several approaches to resolve this “taxonomic dilemma” (their words). They opted for the simplest: treat Megaleporinus as a junior synonym of Arhinolemur, necessitating new combinations for 11 species (listed below).

The ETYFish Project played a minor behind-the-scenes role in the nomenclatural “rebirth” of Arhinolemur. Early last year, one of the current study’s authors asked me to comment on the correct spelling of the fossil genus, which Ameghino spelled as “Arhinolemur” in 1898 and as “Arrhinolemur” in a follow-up publication a year later. I said that Arrhinolemur (1899) is an unjustified emendation of Arhinolemur (1898) and that the original spelling should prevail.

In addition, my bibliographic digging unearthed something new about this fossil name. Although everyone studying Arhinolemur dated the name to a short note published by Ameghino in 1898, Ameghino had actually proposed the genus in a monograph published earlier that same year.  This is the publication that made the name available. Unfortunately, my finding did not find its way into the current paper. Oh, well.

Anostomid species reassigned by Panzeri et al. (2026) from Megaleporinus to Arhinolemur 
Arhinolemur brinco (Birindelli, Britski & Garavello 2013)
Arhinolemur conirostris (Steindachner 1875)
Arhinolemur elongatus (Valenciennes 1850)
Arhinolemur gaiero (Birindelli, Britski & Ramirez 2020)
Arhinolemur garmani (Borodin 1929)
Arhinolemur macrocephalus (Garavello & Britski 1988)
Arhinolemur muyscorum (Steindachner 1900)
Arhinolemur obtusidens (Valenciennes 1837)
Arhinolemur piavussu (Britski, Birindelli & Garavello 2012)
Arhinolemur reinhardti (Lütken 1875) 
Arhinolemur trifasciatus (Steindachner 1876)

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27 May
Torpedo: the fish and the weapon
(written with Holger Funk)

Today, when most people hear the word “torpedo” they think of the self-propelled underwater missile that disables or sinks ships. In ancient Rome, when people heard the word “torpedo” they thought of electric rays. In fact, the Common Torpedo of the Mediterranean goes by the tautonymous name Torpedo torpedo (Linnaeus 1758).

Why do a flattened cartilaginous fish and a cigar-shaped military weapon share the same name? Both are designed to “shock” or paralyze, that’s why.

The Common Torpedo can deliver a strong electric shock of 70 to 200 volts, which it uses for both offensive (stunning prey) and defensive (repelling predators) purposes. Touching one is quite unpleasant, though rarely life-threatening, for humans. The Greek and Romans were well aware of its electric properties (but did not understand the underlying physics of electricity). The Greeks called it nárkē (νάρκη), meaning numbness (hence the English word narcosis). The Romans literally translated νάρκη as torpedo, also meaning numbness (hence the English word torpor). Both words live on in the scientific names of the electric ray genera Narke Kaup 1826, Narcine Henle 1834, Tetronarce Gill 1862, and Torpedo Duméril 1805.

Plutarch (before AD 50 – after 120) wrote this account:

You know, of course, the property of the Torpedo:⁠ not only does it paralyse all those who touch it, but even through the net creates a heavy numbness in the hands of the trawlers. And some who have experimented further with it report that if it is washed ashore alive and you pour water on it from above, you may perceive the numbness mounting to the hand and dulling your sense of touch by way of the water which, so it seems, suffers a change and is first infected.⁠ Having, therefore, an innate sense of this power, it never makes a frontal attack or endangers itself; rather, it swims in a circle around its prey and discharges its shocks as if they were darts, thus poisoning first the water, then through the water the creature which can neither defend itself nor escape, being held fast as if by chains and frozen stiff.

In antiquity, the Torpedo’s electricity was used for medicinal purposes, especially as a remedy for headache, gout, prolapsed anus and other ailments. Scribonius Largus (1st century AD, court physician to the Roman emperor Claudius) recorded remarkable observations such as the following:

A headache, no matter how old and unbearable, is immediately lifted and permanently cured by a living black Torpedo placed on that place, which is in pain, until the pain ceases and that part becomes senseless. When this is first felt, the remedy should be taken away so that sensation in this part is not lost. But rather a lot of Torpedos of this type should be kept ready, because sometimes healing – that is numbness, which is a sign of the curing process – scarcely follows from two or three Torpedos.

Is it too far-fetched to see this as the beginning or precursor of modern electrotherapy?

The Latin “torpedo” became the English word for electric rays circa 1527:

Torpido is a fisshe, but who so handeleth hym shalbe lame & defe of lymmes, that he shall fele no thyng.
— The noble lyfe & natures of man of bestes, serpentys, fowles & fisshes (translated by Laurence Andrewe)

Two centuries later, “Torpedo” was being used figuratively to describe any benumbing influence:

He used to call a pen his torpedo, whenever he grasped it, it numbed all his faculties.
— Oliver Goldsmith, Life of Richard Nash (1762)

English scientist William Gilbert coined the Neo-Latin word electricus in 1660, from ἤλεκτρον (ḗlektron), the Greek word for amber. “Electricus” referred to the static electricity produced by rubbing amber. The term was later applied to objects capable of attracting “light bodies” (e.g., bits of paper) when excited by friction, and then applied even later to the cause (electricity) rather than the property of the attraction. By 1774, scientists had started to call the torpedo fish the “electric ray.”

At around the same time, the word “torpedo” began to shift away from the fish to devices intended to shock or “stun” enemy ships, effectively making them sluggish. In 1775, American inventor David Busnell (1740–1824) created The Turtle, the first submarine ever used in combat. This one-man oak vessel carried a timed, explosive mine to attack British ships from beneath during the American Revolutionary War. Busnell called the explosive mine a “torpedo.”

Eventually, Busnell’s floating torpedoes became the self-propelled high-speed underwater projectiles used in naval battles ever since.

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20 May
Solenostomus snuffleupagus Short & Harasti 2026

How can this one NOT be a Name of the Week?

Solenostomus snuffleupagus is a new species of ghost pipefish (Solenostomidae) from the southwest Pacific, including northeastern Australia (Coral Sea), Papua New Guinea, New Caledonia, Fiji and Tonga. With its conspicuously shaggy appearance, formed by abundant elongate integumentary filaments, and its long, drooping snout, the fish is nearly a dead ringer for Mr. Snuffleupagus, a character on the long-running American educational television series for children, Sesame Street.

There’s another reason, not mentioned in the original description, for naming this fish after Mr. Snuffleupagus.

“Mr. Snuffleupagus was famously the friend that nobody else could see. For years on Sesame Street, only Big Bird knew he existed, and the adults simply did not believe he was real,” lead author Graham Short told Discover. “This fish had exactly that quality. Divers kept reporting it [since the early 2000s], photographs kept surfacing from across the southwest Pacific, but it remained outside the formal scientific record. It was real, it was out there, but science had not yet caught up with it.”

In recent years, ichthyologists have gained publicity for new species by naming them after characters from comic books, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, and other pop-culture phenomena. In most of these cases, the resemblance between the character and the fish is superficial at best.

But this one?

How can it NOT be named snuffleupagus?

Footnote: The generic name Solenostomus, proposed by Lacepède in 1803, is a combination of sōlḗn (σωλήν), pipe or tube, and stóma (στόμα), mouth, referring to a small mouth at end of long, tube-like snout.

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13 May
Strait of Hormuz

It’s the most famous body of water in the world today. Two Iranian fishes have been named after it (although neither specifically occurs in it):

Paraschistura hormuzensis Freyhof, Sayyadzadeh, Esmaeili & Geiger 2015 — Paraschistura is a genus of stone loaches (Nemacheilidae) with 24 species in Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, India, Nepal, and Turkmenistan. This species occurs in the shallow areas of streams in the Minab River of Iran, which flows into the Strait of Hormuz.

Garra hormuzensis Zamani-Faradonbe, Zhang & Keivany 2021 — Garra is one the most speciose genus of cyprinids, with over 160 species in Africa, Asia and the Middle East, including 15 species from the Persian Gulf basin. This species was described from the Shur River, a tributary in the upper Kol River drainage, which flows into the Strait of Hormuz.

Two other fishes with the same specific epithet are named not for the Strait per se.

The cichlid Iranocichla hormuzensis Coad 1982 is named for Hormuz, “once a famous emporium at the mouth of the Persian Gulf,” from which is derived the Harmozdgan province of Iran, where it is endemic.

The killifish (Aphaniidae) Aphaniops hormuzensis (Teimori, Esmaeili, Hamidan & Reichenbacher 2018) is named for the Hormuzgan basin of southern Iran, where it is endemic.

The etymology of “Hormuz” is uncertain. Four explanations have been proposed by scholars:

• Middle Persian pronunciation of the name of the Zoroastrian god Hormoz
• derived from the local Persian word Hur-Mogh, meaning “Place of Dates”
• named after Ifra Hormizd, the mother of King Shapur II of Persia, who ruled between 309 and 379 AD
• from ὅρμος (hormos), the Greek word for cove or bay

Here’s hoping that the Strait of Hormuz stops being so famous soon.

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6 May
Germán Galvis (1942–2026)

Beloved Colombian ichthyologist Germán Galvis passed away on April 29. He was Emeritus Professor and Curator of the Fish Collection at the Instituto de Ciencias Naturales, Universidad Nacional de Colombia (Bogotá). Two Colombian freshwater fishes have been named in his honor:

Hemibrycon galvisi (Román-Valencia 2000) This tetra (Stevardiidae: Hemibryconinae) occurs in the upper Putumayo River of Colombia. Prof. Galvis was honored for provided funding and comparative material for Román-Valencia’s study.

Apteronotus galvisi de Santana, Maldonado-Ocampo & Crampton 2007 This ghost knifefish (Apteronotidae) occurs in Colombia’s Meta River basin. The authors praised Prof. Galvis for his “vast” contributions to our knowledge of the freshwater fishes of Colombia.

In addition to his work as an ichthyologist, Prof. Galvis taught and mentored many students over the years. One such student is ichthyologist Adela Roa-Varon, now a Research Associate at the National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution, and the California Academy of Sciences. Dr. Roa-Varon posted this lovely tribute to Facebook last week:

“Germán was my first mentor in ichthyology. I still remember sitting in the front row of his biogeography class, completely fascinated. Then came the fish collection, Fishes of the World, Joseph Nelson, and months of moving jars as a first-semester undergraduate volunteer. One day, he told me, ‘You have trained your arm muscles; now I will train your brain.’

“And he did.

“Germán taught me ichthyology in the most complete way: not only through books and lectures, but through the daily practice of the discipline. He taught me how to collect, fix, and preserve specimens, and to understand why every specimen deposited in a collection matters. He even taught me how to throw a cast net, and eating fish with him was never about the flavor; it was always a ‘name-the-bone’ challenge.

“I will always be grateful for his guidance and for seeing something in me before I fully knew where this path would lead. His legacy lives on in the collections he built and cared for, the students he trained, and the many lives he changed.

“Rest in peace, querido profe.”

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29 April
The trouble with Trimma

Ichthyologists often have trouble spelling names in the goby genus Trimma. There are currently 118 named species in the genus. Of these 118 names, 53 are adjectives. Of these 53, six (11%) were initially misspelled. In Latin, adjectives must adopt the gender of the noun they are modifying. This is a basic rule in zoological nomenclature:

ICZN 3.2. Agreement in gender A species-group name, if it is or ends in a Latin or latinized adjective or participle in the nominative singular, must agree in gender with the generic name with which it is at any time combined.

ICZN 34.2. Species-group names The ending of a Latin or latinized adjectival or participial species-group name must agree in gender with the generic name with which it is at any time combined [Art. 31.2]; if the gender ending is incorrect it must be changed accordingly (the author and date of the name remain unchanged

Trimma, proposed by Jordan & Seale in 1906, is based on the Ancient Greek noun trimma (τρίμμα), meaning “that which is rubbed.” We do not know why Jordan & Seale chose that name, but we know, according to Greek dictionaries, that its gender is neuter.

In 1975, Yoshino & Araga described Trimma caudomaculata from Okinawa Island, Japan. The specific epithet is a combination of caudo– (L.), tail, and maculatus/a/um (L.), spotted, referring to the darkish red blotch at caudal base. But the authors used the feminine spelling of the Latin adjective. The correct spelling for the neuter Trimma is caudomaculatum.

Also in 1975, Allen & Munday made a similar mistake in their description of Trimma rubromaculatus, described from Kimbe Bay, New Britain Island, Papua New Guinea. The correct spelling is rubromaculatum. (A second misspelling, rubromaculata, appears in some publications.)

In 2000, Richard Winterbottom, perhaps the world’s leading expert on Trimma gobies, described Trimma omanensis from the Gulf of Oman. The mistake here involves the Latin adjectival suffix “-ensis,” which means “of or from” and is commonly used in toponymic names, i.e., names that refer to a place where the animal occurs. This Latin suffix is declined differently than Latin adjectives. The masculine and feminine spellings are the same: “-ensis.” The neuter spelling, however, is “-ense.” The correct spelling for the neuter Trimma is omanense.

Winterbottom’s mistake has been repeated by himself and others:

Trimma hotsarihiensis Winterbottom 2009 — described from Hotsarihie, local Tobian name for Helen Reef, Hatohobei State, Palau, type locality (correct spelling is hotsarihiense)

Trimma taipinensis Chang, Shen & Chen 2025 — described from Taiping Island, South China Sea (correct spelling is taipinense)

Trimma tufiensis Allen, Erdmann, Brooks & Dudgeon 2025 — described Tufi area, Oro Province, eastern Papua New Guinea (correct spelling is tufiense)

Even Eschmeyer’s Catalog of Fishes (ECoF) has trouble with Trimma. The editors overlooked the misspellings of the two Trimma species described last year. (These entries will be corrected in the May edition.) In addition, ECoF unnecessarily “corrected” the spelling of Trimma sanguinellus, described in 2007 by Winterbottom & Southcott from the Andaman Sea off the western coast of Thailand. The authors clearly indicated that the name is a noun derived from the Latin sanguinellus, literally meaning “little blood,” referring to the goby’s red-suffused flesh. ECoF, believing the name to be an adjective, changed the spelling to “sanguinellum.” The spelling will be changed back in the May edition.

I’ve made my share of similar and other errors over the years. I don’t mind being corrected. That means people are paying attention.

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22 April
Careproctus argosgeorgiae Villarroel-Perez & Chernova 2026

Careproctus argosgeorgiae is a new species of snailfish (Liparidae) collected at 1680 m from the northeastern Falkland Islands in the southwestern Atlantic Ocean. It is named in honor the F/V Argos Georgia, a longline fishing vessel that sank in the South Atlantic near the Falkland Islands on 22 July 2024, resulting in the loss of 13 lives.

While on route from Stanley in the Falkland Islands to the Patagonian Toothfish fishing grounds near South Georgia, the Argos Georgia encountered severe weather conditions, including waves up to 10 meters and winds exceeding 50 knots (93 km/h). During this time, a starboard side shell door — a hydraulically operated door built into a ship’s hull used for cargo loading and other needs — malfunctioned, descending slowly into the fully open position. The crew was unable to close it. Open doors inside the vessel facilitated the spread of seawater to adjacent compartments. The vessel listed, lost propulsion and drifted in heavy seas. Some crew members were lost during the abandonment and others perished in life rafts during the ongoing search-and-rescue mission. Fourteen crew members survived. The bodies of four crew members remain missing.

In naming the fish after the vessel, its crew, and all those connected to it, the authors wrote:

“The response to the tragedy reflects the resilience and compassion of the South Atlantic islands community and underscores the human risks of deep-sea fishing in subantarctic and Antarctic waters.”

An interim report on the loss of F/V Argos Georgia, from the Marine Accident Investigation Branch — the UK government organization that investigates all maritime accidents in UK waters and accidents involving UK registered ships worldwide — is available here.

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15 April
Fishes and yellow fever

Last week’s entry on fishes named for measles made me curious about fishes named for other diseases. Yellow fever came up several times in my search.

Yellow fever is an infectious viral disease spread by the bite of an infected mosquito. It only affects humans, non-human primates, and, of course, mosquitoes. Yellow fever originated in Africa, where local populations had developed some immunity to it. European explorers, colonists and slave traders who caught the disease usually died. The mosquitoes, and hence the disease, spread to North and South America aboard slave ships (although some evidence exists that yellow fever existed in pre-Columbian America). Scientists hypothesized that yellow fever spread by insect bites in 1848, and confirmed mosquitoes as the vector in the 1890s. Soon after that, scientists and physicians began isolating and locally eradicating the virus through mosquito control. Vaccines were developed in the 1930s.

The following five fishes are not named for yellow fever. Instead, they are named for victims of yellow fever, all of them European mariners or explorers. In fact, all of them were French.

Jean René Constant Quoy (1790-1869) and Joseph Paul Gaimard (1793-1858) were French naval surgeons who served together on several voyages. Like many naval surgeons of the time, they were also naturalists. They scientifically described many of the fishes they caught during their voyages. They apparently dodged the yellow fever virus. Four of their colleagues did not.

Cyphocharax gilbert (Quoy & Gaimard 1824) – a toothless characin (Curimatidae) from coastal drainages of eastern Brazil. Named in memory of M. (Monsieur?) Gilbert, a French naval surgeon who died of yellow fever in the Antilles. (I have not been able to find his first name.)

Cymolutes lecluse (Quoy & Gaimard 1824) – the Sharp-headed Wrasse (Labridae) from the Hawaiian Islands. Named in memory of naval surgeon M. (Monsieur) de Lécluse, who died of yellow fever, presumably aboard the ship from which the holotype was collected. (I have not been able to find his first name.)

Nelusetta ayraud (Quoy & Gaimard 1824) – the Ocean Jacket, a filefish (Monocanthidae) from off the coast of Australia, named in memory of Jean Jacques Victor Ayraud (1789-1821). Quoy & Gaimard said: “The name given to this fish recalls one of the many victims of yellow fever among naval medics. It was in the last epidemic that M. Ayraud died in Martinique, after seeing one of his comrades, an ensign, succumb to the same disease” (translation).

Stegastes lacrymatus (Quoy & Gaimard 1825) – the Whitespotted Devil or Jeweled Damselfish (Pomacanthidae), described from the Mariana Islands of Guam. The name is Latin for “having shed tears.” One could surmise that the name refers to the tear-shaped markings on the fish’s side (see photo). But Quoy & Gaimard explicitly said they dedicated this species to the “memory of Monsieur Vidal, a young naval surgeon, who died of yellow fever” (translation).

One more “yellow fever” fish:

Brycon devillei (Castelnau 1855) – This poorly known dorado or jaw characin (Bryconidae), known only from one specimen collected in Bahia, Brazil, is named in memory of French physician, naturalist and taxidermist Emile Deville (1824-1853). He was Castelnau’s “unfortunate travel companion who, having escaped the horrors [e.g., mosquitoes and other insect or spider bites] of Ucayali [River in Peru], died of yellow fever in Rio de Janeiro” (translation).

According to the World Health Organization, an estimated 67,000-173,000 severe yellow-fever infections and 31,000-82,000 deaths occur each year in Africa and the Americas, with most of the burden being in Africa. The potential for international spread to unaffected regions remains a global health security concern.

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8 April
Two measly fishes

Now that measles is making a comeback in the USA, here are two fishes named for this highly contagious disease.

Chaenopsis roseola Hastings & Shipp 1981 The Flecked Pikeblenny (Chaenopsidae) occurs in the Western Atlantic Ocean from North Carolina (USA) to the Gulf of Mexico and the northwestern Caribbean Sea. Its specific epithet, roseola, is a Neo-Latin word meaning rose-colored or reddish. The name refers to the fish’s rust- or pink-colored flecks (in living adults), which the authors described as reminiscent of roseola (a childhood illness caused by two strains of the herpes virus) or measles.

Rhinogobius boa Chen & Kottelat 2005 This freshwater goby (Oxudercidae) inhabits small boulder-strewn and leaf-littered forest streams in the foothills of northern Vietnam, close to the border of China. The specific epithet boa does not refer to the snake, but to a Latin word for a disease producing red postules, including measles and small pox. The name refers to the red spots on the goby’s cheeks and branchiostegal membrane.

According to Chen & Kottelat, who described Rhinogobius boa, the Latin word boa is derived from boarius or bovarius (bovines), “because Romans used cow-dung to cure measles.” Our resident Greek and Latin scholar, Holger Funk, says this is not quite accurate. He says that bovarius (bovine) is the adjective to bos (cattle). Likewise, the disease boa (measles or smallpox) is derived from bos.

Did the Romans really use cow-dung to cure measles? I don’t know. Chen & Kottelat did not provide a source for this claim. Prominent Roman physicians like Galen and Pliny the Elder prescribed animal dung — including from cows, goats, and dogs — for a wide range of infections and inflammatory conditions. So, it’s possible that cow dung was also prescribed for measles, although that disease (in the modern medical sense of the term) was not a distinct clinical diagnosis in Roman times. It’s possible that the Romans applied stercoraceous (fecal) salves for any kind of febrile rash, measles included.

I hope U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., doesn’t see this post. Given his predilection for alternative therapies, drinking raw milk, collecting roadkill, and swimming in sewage-contaminated creeks, he may recommend cow dung as a pharmacological option in controlling America’s measles outbreak.

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1 April
Speoplatyrhinus poulsoni Cooper & Kuehne 1974

The Alabama Cavefish Speoplatyrhinus poulsoni (Amblyopsidae) is one of the rarest fishes in North America. It is found only in underground pools in Key Cave, in northwestern Alabama. No more than 10 individuals have been observed at any one time. Biologists estimate that fewer than 100 are left. It was discovered underneath a colony of gray bats in 1967 by Robert A. Kuehne and John E. Cooper. The nutrient-rich guano of the bats is essential to its survival.

Kuehne and Cooper scientifically described the fish in 1974, representing both a new genus and species. Speoplatyrhinus is from the Greek spéos, meaning cave, and platýs (flat), and rhinós, genitive of rhís (nose), referring to its greatly flattened snout. For the specific epithet they named the fish in honor of biologist and speleologist Thomas L. Poulson, then with the University of Illinois Chicago, for his “outstanding work with the amblyopsid fishes and for his continuing interest in these animals, their ecology and their evolution.” His 1963 dissertation “Cave Adaptation in Amblyopsid Fishes” is a seminal work in the field. He authored or co-authored several major papers on cavefishes over a 45-year career before his retirement.

Dr. Poulson passed away on March 16, 2026, at the age of 91.

“You can’t study cavefishes and not know who he was,” said Danté Fenolio, Tom’s friend and fellow speleologist.

Danté tells a wonderful story about Dr. Poulson and the fish named in his honor:

“One of my favorite memories of Tom was a visit out to see the fish that is named in his honor, the Alabama Cavefish (Speoplatyrhinus poulsoni). Tom had never seen a live specimen prior to that day. I got to witness his excitement and emotional reaction when a colleague emerged from the cave with a fish to show Tom (by permit and very briefly), before returning it to the cave waterway. His reaction was priceless and his excitement went through the ceiling. Many expletives were had. I loved it. That moment was special.”

Read more about Dr. Poulson’s life and career here.

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25 March
Glaridoglanis verruciloba Gong 2025

One quirk of the International Code of Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN) is that it can be unflinchingly strict in the latinized spellings of animal names. But it can also be accommodatingly tolerant. A case in point:

Glaridoglanis verruciloba Gong 2025 is a recently described glyptosternine catfish (Sisoridae) from the Zayul River in southeastern Tibet, China. The specific epithet is derived from the Latin nouns verruca (wart) and lobus (lobe), referring to the verruciform (wart-like) lobes on the central-posterior margin of its lower lip. The compound noun “verrucilobus” (wart lobe) would have been a perfectly acceptable treatment of the name. But the author treats the name as an adjective, wart-lobed, and, per ICZN 31.2 …

A species-group name, if it is or ends in a Latin or latinized adjective or participle in the nominative singular, must agree in gender with the generic name with which it is at any time combined.

… accordingly spells “lobus” as “loba” to agree with the feminine gender of the genus.

Trouble is, “loba” is not the correct adjectival form of the noun “lobus.” The Latin words for “lobed” are lobatus (masculine), lobata (feminine) and lobatum (neuter). From the perspective of a Latin purist, the preferred (correct) spelling of the catfish’s name is “Glaridoglanis verrucilobata.”

The ICZN Code accommodates the fact that not all zoologists are Latin purists. ICZN 32.5.1 stipulates:

If there is in the original publication itself, without recourse to any external source of information, clear evidence of an inadvertent error, such as a lapsus calami or a copyist’s or printer’s error, it must be corrected. Incorrect transliteration or latinization, or use of an inappropriate connecting vowel, are not to be considered inadvertent errors.

The key phrase here is “incorrect latinization.” The author of Glaridoglanis verruciloba incorrectly latinized “lobus” as “loba” in an attempt to turn the noun into an adjective. But that’s okay. In the eyes of the ICZN, an incorrect latinization is considered its “correct original spelling” and “is to be preserved unaltered” …

Except for when ICZN 31.2 comes into play.

Since the author of Glaridoglanis verruciloba identified the specific epithet as an adjective, its spelling is forever contingent upon its generic placement. Should G. verruciloba be reassigned to a masculine or neuter genus, its spelling would need to be changed to verrucilobus or verrucilobum, respectively.

The takeaway is this: You can mangle the Latin language when forming a new animal name. But you better follow the rules of Latin grammar when you do!

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18 March
Myxine floyd Mincarone, Kurtz, Di Dario & Gonçalves 2026

Biologists who want to eliminate eponyms because naming species after humans “was and is never right — regardless of good intentions” are probably clenching their jaws with this one. Which is amusing considering that the fish (or fish-like craniate) is jawless.

Myxine floyd is a new species of five-gilled hagfish (Myxinidae) from the South Atlantic Ocean, on the continental slope of southern Brazil, off the states of Paraná and Santa Catarina, at depths ranging from 460 to 750 m. It differs from its congeners in several traits, including the total number of teeth cusps, number of anterior and posterior unicusps, number of caudal pores, and color pattern.

The authors named it for the “iconic rock band Pink Floyd, whose groundbreaking musical experimentation, con­ceptual depth, and artistic innovation have influenced generations of musicians and listeners, including the authors of this paper. The name acknowledges the enduring legacy of the band in pushing creative boundaries into the unfathomable depths of the human mind, an inspiration reflected in the discovery of this distinctive pinkish deep-sea species.”

A species of snapping shrimp, Synalpheus pinkfloydi Anker, Hultgren, De Grave 2017, was named after the band because of its vibrant pink claw and the fact that the sound from its claw can stun or kill a small fish. I asked Michael Mincarone, the lead author of the hagfish paper, if the fish’s pinkish color was a factor in the selection of its name as well. The answer is no. “The pinkish color is a happy coincidence,” he told me. “A good one.”

A spider and a catfish also have Pink Floydian names.

Pinkfloydia Hormiga & Dimitrov 2011 is a genus of tetragnathid spiders from Western Australia. It’s “named after the British psychedelic and progressive rock band Pink Floyd. In its heyday Pink Floyd was an innovative group that created music, which was an eclectic mixture of styles. The band also pioneered the use of very sophisticated lights and lasers in their live shows and often had highly innovative album covers. Pinkfloydia has very unusual morphological features and its name aims to reflect its uniqueness.”

Neoplecostomus watersi Silva, Reia, Zawadzki & Roxo 2019 is a catfish from Goiás, Brazil. It’s named for George Roger Waters (b. 1943), composer, singer and guitar player from Pink Floyd, “for his talent as [a] musician and social awareness around [the] world, [e]specially his brave concerns to Brazilian economic, social and politic[al] issues.”

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11 March
Cyttus Günther 1860

It’s a name that has long puzzled scholars. A typo may be to blame.

Cyttus is the sole genus in the family Cyttidae, large, deep-bodied marine fishes known as Lookdown Dories. There are three species in the family, from the southeast Atlantic to the Indo-West Pacific (e.g., from South Africa to off Australia and New Zealand). Albert Günther of the British Museum said he borrowed the name Cyttus from κυττός, an “unknown fish” mentioned by the Greek author Athenaeus (circa 200 AD).

Here’s what’s puzzling about the name. Not only is the fish κυττός unknown, the very word itself is unknown as well. Κυττός is not attested in any Greek dictionary. Nor does its Latin equivalent Cittulus exist in classical Latin. Our resident Greek and Latin scholar Holger Funk recently researched the history of κυττός. Here is what we know, and don’t know, about this enigmatic name.

Κυττός appeared in Deipnosophistai (Δειπνοσοφισταί, often titled “The Learned Banqueters” or something similar in English) by Athenaeus of Naucratis, an ancient Greek rhetorician and grammarian. The work, set in Rome, recounts a series of banquets in which various literary, historical and antiquarian matters are discussed. In one such discussion, fishes are linked with corresponding Greek deities. Κυττός is said to be sacred to Dionysus, the Greek god of wine-making (equivalent to the Roman god Bacchus).

As stated above, the word κυττός is not recorded from antiquity. Moreover, while various animals associated with Dionysus/Bacchus are known, none of them were fish. “Something doesn’t add up,” Dr. Funk said. The answer might be that κυττός is a misspelling, perhaps by scribe or a typesetter (or a combination of both) for an entirely different kind of organism.

In 1881, classical philologist Georg Kaibel opined that κυττός is a lapsus for κιττός, the Greek word for ivy, especially since vine and ivy are representative attributes of a wine god. There the matter stood for over 125 years, until classics professor S. Douglas Olson (University of Minnesota) published a new translation of Athenaeus’ work in 2008. Olson reopened the discussion on the κυττός–κιττός issue by replacing the reading κιττός with κίττα, Greek for the bird jay. Olson’s underlying assumption was that Athenaeus was primarily concerned with listing deities associated with other animals, and while ivy would not be incorrect in connection with Dionysus/Bacchus, it was not the central theme of the fictional banquet depicted in the work.

Per Dr. Funk: “Olson thus emphasized the general context of the passage (animals associated with deities, not with plants or other things), while Kaibel highlighted the specific point (the pictorial attributes of the wine god Dionysus). Both perspectives are valid. However, it remains difficult to understand to what extent the bird jay can be associated with the wine god.”

“While Dionysius was very peripherally associated with certain birds,” Dr. Funk continues, “it was never with a jay. According to the extensive research literature on Dionysus, he was often associated with a number of quadrupeds, but only very peripherally with birds, and certainly not with the jay.”

I leave the ivy vs. jay debate to the philologists. Instead, I prefer how Günther, either consciously or accidentally, provided a satisfyingly ichthyological solution to the mystery. While Günther credited Athenaeus as the source of Cyttus, he did not explain why he selected that name for the type species, Capros australis Richardson 1843. Initially, I thought that Günther’s selection was arbitrary, that he was simply repurposing a name from Ancient Greek. (Cuvier often did the same.) But then I noticed that Günther included Cyttus and the John Dory genus Zeus in a clade he called “Cyttina.” (Both genera, in different families, are today classified in the order Zeiformes.) I also noticed that in his account of the John Dory, Günther mentioned that it was known by two other common names: Sancti Petri piscis (St. Peter’s fish), and a name that is orthographically similar to κυττός, κιττός, κίττα and Cittulus …

Citula.

A clue or just a coincidence? No one can really know for sure. I’m not suggesting Athenaeus was linking the John Dory, or any dory-like fish, to the Greek god of wine. But the notion does intrigue me.

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4 March
Garra widdowsoni (Trewavas 1955)

This story involves corn flakes and an eyeless, colorless fish from Haditha, Iraq.

A. G. Widdowson was a refrigeration engineer for the Iraq Petroleum Company Ltd. In 1953, he wrote a letter to British writer and explorer Anthony Smith (1926–2014), who had just published a travelogue, Blind White Fish in Persia, recounting his unsuccessful efforts to find blind, white fishes that lived in the qanats of Iran. (Qanats are underground tunnel systems that transport groundwater from mountain aquifers to arid plains in Iran and Iraq.)

Widdowson explained that “he happened down a pot-hole 300 feet deep” in Haditha, where he found a some “blind white fish.” He had read Smith’s book and thought they might be of interest to him. Widdowson said he kept the fish alive “on one corn flake each every other day, but they are now dead.”

Smith sent Widdowson’s note to the Natural History Museum in London. The Museum’s Fish Department contacted Widdowson, suggesting that if he happened to be down the same pot-hole again, he should (in Smith’s words) “refrain from pisciculture in general and corn flakes in particular.” Instead, the Fish Department instructed, Widdowson should “place his catch forthwith inside the tubes of alcohol enclosed for that purpose.”

Widdowson apparently put those tubes to good use. He procured two more specimens and sent them to the Natural History Museum, where they were described by Ethelwynn Trewavas in 1955. She named the species in honor of Widdowson. She also proposed a new genus for the fish, Typhlogarra (typhlós = blind), but recent DNA studies indicate that the species’ closest relative is Garra rufa, so Typhlogarra is now a junior synonym of Garra.

Today, G. widdowsoni is known from three wells near Haditha, connected to underground rivers in the Euphrates River drainage. Once abundant, the species is now on the verge of extinction because of water extraction. It feeds on layers of bacteria and ciliates from rock surfaces and also grazes upside-down from the water’s surface.

Corn flakes do not appear to be part of its natural diet.

As for Anthony Smith, he finally discovered a “blind white fish from Persia” in 1976. See the 4 January 2023 NOTW for the full story (including a link to a fascinating video).

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25 Feb.
Lepusigobius pallida or Lepusigobius pallidus?

I’ve made my fair share of spelling and grammatical mistakes over the years, in these posts and in the peer-reviewed papers I’ve written. It’s reassuring to know that I am not alone. Consider this unfortunate mistake in a recently described genus.

Lepusigobius Suzuki, Li & Chen 2025 is a new genus proposed for Gobiosoma pallida Herre 1934, a goby from the Philippines and Okinawa, Japan. The name is a combination of Lepus, the genus for hares and jackrabbits, referring to the goby’s distinct clefted upper lip, and gobius, goby. The specific name pallida is an adjective meaning pale or colorless, referring, based on Herre’s original description, to the goby’s “old ivory” color in alcohol and/or its “colourless” fins.

In biological nomenclature, Latin or Latinized adjectives must agree with the gender of the genus. In this case: pallidus (masculine), pallida (feminine), and pallidum (neuter). The authors of Lepusigobius correctly state the genus is masculine and correctly spell it pallidus 12 times throughout the paper. Yet the name is also spelled pallida twice, including in the main subject header introducing the new combination: “Lepusigobius pallida comb. nov.” This is where the fish is officially (o-fishily?) renamed. It’s clear the authors know that pallidus is the correct spelling but for some reason their brain-to-finger-to-keyboard connection typed pallida twice, including the most conspicuous and important mention of the name in the text.

I can understand the authors overlooking this mistake. Based on my experience, authors are the worst proofreaders of their own words. (There’s probably a typo above.) But the editor and peer reviewers should have caught it.

It seems this goby is cursed by poor spelling. Even its original name, Gobiosoma pallida, is incorrect. Gobiosoma is a neuter genus. So Herre should have spelled it “pallidum” back in 1934.

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18 Feb.
Trichonotus nikii Clark & von Schmidt 1966

Sometimes the authors of a taxon do not tell you the full story behind the meaning or relevance of a name. Trichonotus nikii is a prime example.

Trichonotus nikii is a species of sanddiver (Gobiiformes: Trichonotidae)­ from the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden. It was described by Eugenie Clark and Kay von Schmidt. You may recognize the name of Dr. Clark (1922–2015), most famous as “The Shark Lady” for her pioneering research in shark behavior. See 4 March 2015 NOWT for an overview of her career.

According to the T. nikii description, the fish is named in honor of Niki Konstantinou, the “youngest member on the field trip to the Red Sea” (type locality). When Dr. Clark passed away in 2015, numerous obituaries and tributes were posted online. That’s when I learned the true identity of young Niki and gained a richer understanding of why he was honored.

Niki is Nikolas, Dr. Clark’s youngest son, who was six-years-old at the time. In 1964, while diving near the shore at Eilat, Israel, Dr. Clark spotted a small (20 cm) fish hovering above the sand. When she approached closer, the fish dove into the sand, as all trichonotids do when confronted by predators (hence the common name sanddiver). Dr. Clark dug her fingers into the sand and prodded the fish into a net. She looked up and saw Niki snorkeling nearby. She called Niki over and placed the fish into his dive mask until they could get to shore.

Dr. Clark nicknamed the fish “Tricky Niki” due to its sand-burying behavior. The nickname stuck and inspired the formal scientific name. “Much to my brother’s annoyance,” Nikolas later said.

But there’s more to the story. According to José L. Castro’s book Genie: The Life and Recollections of Eugenie Clark (2020), Dr. Clark and her co-author submitted the description to Copeia (now Ichthyology & Herpetology). The referees rejected it, stating that the species had already been described, and that Clark & von Schmidt had not examined enough specimens. Castro writes, “It is likely they were biased against a woman daring to write a description of a new species without consulting them and daring to name a fish after her son.”

Annoyed, and convinced she had a new species, Dr. Clark submitted the description to an obscure Israeli journal (see image caption). The description was published and the species remains valid to this day.

Dr. Clark never sent an article to Copeia again.

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11 Feb.
Linnaeus re-etymologized

Late last year, Mark Sabaj, Collection Manager of Fishes at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Drexel University, sent me a link to an expanded edition of Linnaeus’ Systema Naturae, the starting point of zoological nomenclature, written by German zoologist Philipp Ludwig Statius Müller (the volume on fishes published in 1774). I was unfamiliar with this work and wish I had consulted it years ago because Müller provides explanations for many of the fish names that date to Linnaeus’ foundational treatise.

Linnaeus did not explain the meanings of the names he used in Systema Naturae (the 10th edition of 1758 and the 12th edition of 1766). For several Linnaean names, my ETYFish entries were educated guesses. Thanks to Müller’s work, I am able to bring clarity and historical context to several etymologies. One such etymology, that of Silurus asotus, was the subject of the final NOTW essay for 2025. Here are five more.

Below are my original explanations followed by the revised explanations after consulting Müller’s work.

Muraena helena Linnaeus 1758 … Mediterranean Moray

ORIGINAL:
etymology not explained, possibly referring to Izaak Walton’s comment that the Romans esteemed this eel as the “Helena of their feasts” (The Compleat Angler, 1653), presumably an allusion to Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in Greek mythology (perhaps equating a paragon of beauty with a paragon of palatable pleasure) 

REVISED:
etymology not explained; per Müller (1774), named for Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in Greek mythology: “Because this fish, due to its black and white marbling, is extraordinarily beautiful, and also has the tenderest and most delicious flesh of all fish, and was therefore considered the most exquisite dish at large banquets among the Romans, it is figuratively called Helena” (translation)

Albula vulpes (Linnaeus 1758) … Bonefish

ORIGINAL:
Latin for fox, allusion not explained, possibly referring to its speed (some anglers call them the sprinters of the fish world)

REVISED:
Latin for fox, based on the “Vulpes Bahamensis” of Catesby (1743, The natural history of Carolina, Florida and the Bahama Islands), allusion not explained, possibly referring to its speed (some anglers call them the sprinters of the fish world) 

Misgurnus fossilis (Linnaeus 1758) … Weatherfish

ORIGINAL:
Latin for digging or dug up, allusion not explained, probably referring to habit of burying itself in the mud, particularly in cold weather

REVISED:
Latin for digging or dug up, allusion not explained; per Müller (1774), referring to how it “burrows in the swamp and is sometimes found in the swamp after river floods, into which it burrows deeply” (translation)

Clarias batrachus (Linnaeus 1758) … Walking Catfish

ORIGINAL:
from bátrachos (βάτραχος), frog, allusion not explained, perhaps referring to its frog-like ability to leave the water and move across land

REVISED:
from bátrachos (βάτραχος), frog, allusion not explained; per Müller (1774), referring to the frog-like appearance of its head

Synodus foetens (Linnaeus 1766) … Inshore Lizardfish

ORIGINAL:
Latin for smelly or stinking, allusion not explained (Linnaeus examined specimens sent from South Carolina, USA, preserved in rum; perhaps they were in a bad state when he received them)

REVISED:
Latin for smelly or stinking, allusion not explained; per Müller (1774), reflecting the colloquial name “stink salmon,” used by British colonists in 18^th-century South Carolina (USA), type locality, referring to its unpleasant odor

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4 Feb.
Pimephales vigilax (Baird & Girard 1853)

The United States has arguably the most-studied freshwater fish fauna in the world. Yet the meanings of the names of some U.S. fishes remain obscure. The Bullhead Minnow Pimephales vigilax is a case in point. This minnow, a common baitfish, occurs in the Mississippi River basin and Gulf Slope drainages, where it is usually found in sluggish pools of larger streams that have silty or sandy bottoms, continuous flow, low gradients, and spare vegetation.

Its specific epithet “vigilax” is Latin for watchful or restless. Spencer Fullerton Baird (1823-1887) and Charles Girard (1822-1895) did not explain why they selected the name, nor does their description offer any clue; their brief text is limited to color and anatomic features and does not mention anything about the minnow’s behavior and habitat. Jenkins & Burkhead, in their classic book Freshwater Fishes of Virginia (1994), suggest that the name refers to the vigilance of nest-guarding males. I doubt this explanation because Baird & Girard did not observe the minnow in the wild. The holotype was collected by Randolph B. Marcy (1812-1887) and George B. McClellan (1826-1865) from Otter Creek, a tributary to North Fork of Red River in southwestern Oklahoma. Both Marcy and McClellan were captains in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. They collected P. vigilax, and several other species, during an expedition to discover the Red River’s source. I do not know if they provided any field notes. As far as I know, the first behavioral study of Pimephales vigilax was published by Henry L. Parker in 1964, in which the author observed spawning and nest-guarding behavior in aquaria and farm ponds. Parker wrote: “The male protects the eggs from animals small enough to enter the nest to destroy the eggs. He can drive away fish even twice his size.”

In 1856, Girard described another species of minnow from Oklahoma-Texas border that is today considered a subspecies of P. vigilax. He named it Hyborhynchus perspicuus. The specific epithet is Latin for clear, transparent or evident, yet the reason he chose the name is far from clear, transparent or evident.

Interestingly, Girard said that the genus Hyborhynchus (now a synonym of Pimephales) is ”amongst those whose history has most perplexed us.”

In regards to vigilax and perspicuus, we remain perplexed by their names.

Footnote: What does Pimephales mean? Glad you asked. Proposed by Rafinesque in 1820, the name is a combination of pimelḗ (πιμελή), fat, and cephales, from kephalḗ (κεφαλή), head, referring to the head of P. promelas, described as “soft and fat all over,” a clear reference to the fleshy growth on nape of breeding males. Rafinesque twice incorrectly translated name as “Flat-head” in his description of the genus, possibly a typesetting error, but correctly translated it as “Fat-head” in his description of P. promelas.

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28 Jan.
Acanthobrama microlepis (De Filippi 1863)

I was surprised to see that the name of this species had recently been changed because of a nomenclatural technicality. The November 2025 edition of Eschmeyer’s Catalog of Fishes (ECoF) reflected this change. I investigated and found evidence that the change was unnecessary. The ECoF editors agreed and changed the name back in their most recent (13 January) posting.

The Caucasian Bream Acanthobrama microlepis is a common species of minnow found in lakes and rivers of the southwestern Caspian Sea drainage basin. Its specific epithet refers to its small scales, 60-82 along the lateral line: micro-, from mikrós (μικρός), small, and lepís (λεπίς), scale. The generic epithet Acanthobrama, proposed by Heckel for A. marmid in 1843, means “spiny bream”: acantho-, from ákantha (ἄκανθα), thorn, referring to the thickened, spine-like, last ray of its unbranched dorsal fin; brama, derived from abramís (ἀβραμίς), ancient name for a bream or mullet.

In the recent book Handbook of Freshwater Fishes of West Asia (a free download), the authors changed the name to Acanthobrama punctulata (Kessler 1877), stating that A. microlepis (De Filippi 1863) is invalid and therefore unavailable for use:

Abramis microlepis is a junior secondary homonym of Alburnus microlepis Heckel, 1843, when placed in Alburnus by Kamensky (1901). It was replaced by Alburnus punctulatus, a former junior synonym, by Berg (1916) and is permanently invalid because junior homonyms and substitute names are still treated as synonyms.

A junior secondary homonym occurs when two identical species-group names, originally described in different genera — in this case Alburnus microlepis Heckel 1843 and Abramis microlepis De Filippi 1863 — are subsequently placed into the same genus, making the later-published (younger) name invalid. The next available name for Abramis microlepis De Filippi 1863 is Alburnus punctulatus Kessler 1877.

This name change didn’t seem right to me. My understanding is that a second-degree homonym can be reinstated if the taxa are placed in different genera. I double-checked the ICZN Code, specifically article 59.3, which reads:

“A junior secondary homonym replaced before 1961 is permanently invalid unless the substitute name is not in use and the relevant taxa are no longer considered congeneric, in which case the junior homonym is not to be rejected on grounds of that replacement.”

Was Abramis microlepis De Filippi 1863 replaced before 1961? Yes. A. microlepis was placed into Alburnus by Kamensky (1901), and replaced by Alburnus punctulatus, a former junior synonym, by Berg (1916). So that provision of ICZN 59.3 applies.

But note that ICZN 59.3 also states that the junior secondary homonym is NOT to be replaced if these two conditions apply: (1) the substitute name is not being used by ichthyologists, and (2) the two competing names are no longer placed in the same genus.

I reviewed the relevant literature and it appears that A. punctulatus has NOT been in use since Berg (1916). In fact, Berg (1949) changed his mind and returned punctulatus to the synonymy of microlepis. As far as I can tell, every reference since 1949 has used A. microlepis over A. punctulatus … that is, until the publication of Handbook of Freshwater Fishes of West Asia late last year.

Note also that the “A. microlepis” homonyms are placed in different genera today: Abramis microlepis De Filippi 1863 is in Acanthobrama, whereas Alburnus microlepis Heckel 1843 remains an available name in Alburnus, where it is currently regarded as a junior synonym of A. sellal Heckel 1843.

Just because the two names were treated as junior secondary homonyms for a short period in the early 20^th century doesn’t mean they should be treated that way today.

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21 Jan.
Psalidodon paiva Rodrigues-Oliveira, de Assis, Pimentel, Soares, Batista da Silva, Rocha, Menegidio, Pasa & Kavalco 2025

Tomorrow, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will announce the nominees for the 98th Academy Awards, or Oscars. Late month, a new species of fish was named with a connection to a 2024 film that won an Oscar at the 97th Academy Awards. In fact, the film and its Oscar win are mentioned in the section explaining the fish’s name.

Psalidodon paiva is a new species of tetra (Acestrorhamphidae) closely related to the Buenos Aires Tetra P. anisitsi popular in the aquarium trade. It is one of three new species previously identified as P. rivularis but now distinguished by body shape, body measurements, chromosome counts, and DNA. It occurs in the upper and middle São Francisco River basin of Minas Gerais, Brazil.

The species is named in honor of the Paiva family, whose life was “profoundly affected by the imprisonment, disappearance, and execution of the family patriarch, Rubens Paiva, during the Brazilian military dictatorship” in 1971.

Rubens Paiva (1929-1971) was a Brazilian civil engineer and politician who opposed Brazil’s military dictatorship in 1964. Since his activities and beliefs were deemed subversive by the dictatorial regime, he was arrested by military forces, tortured, and murdered. After Rubens’ disappearance, his wife, Eunice (1929-2018), enrolled and graduated from law school and became a prominent human rights advocate for Brazil’s indigenous peoples and the victims of political repression. Her campaign to open the military dictatorship’s closed records while caring for her five children is the subject of the 2024 film Ainda Estou Aqui (I’m Still Here).

On 23 January 2025, I’m Still Here was nominated for Best Picture, Best Actress, and Best International Feature Film (later winning that Oscar) at the 97th Academy Awards. On the same day, Rubens Paiva’s death certificate was corrected to state that he died from violent causes at the hands of the State. The previous death certificate only stated that he was missing. His body has not been recovered.

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14 Jan.
Glyptothorax pulcher Zeng, Lin, Jiang & Chen 2026

Every year we highlight the first-described new fish species of the New Year. For 2026 it is Glyptothorax pulcher.

Glyptothorax Blyth 1860 is a genus of small catfishes with a widespread distribution, ranging from the Euphrates and Tigris River Basins in Turkey in the west, to the Yangtze River in China in the east, southwards to Borneo and Java. The name is a combination of two Greek words: glyptós (γλυπτός), engraved, and thṓrax (θώραξ), breast or chest, referring to an adhesive apparatus on the thorax with grooves parallel or oblique to the longitudinal axis of the body. Glyptothorax catfishes — commonly known as hillstream catfishes — use this apparatus to attach themselves to rocks in the fast-flowing streams they inhabit.

Glyptothorax is the largest genus in the family Sisoridae, with 150 species considered valid today. The latest new species, Glyptothorax pulcher, is described from the Tuoniang River, Pearl River Basin, in south-eastern Yunnan Province and western Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, China. Its specific epithet is Latin for beautiful, referring to its attractive color pattern.

By our count, 32 new genera, three new subgenera, and 380 new species of fishes, across 90 families, were described in 2025. Nearly one-third (31%) are from four freshwater families:

Nemacheilidae (Stone or Brook Loaches) … 46 new species
Cyprinidae (Carps) … 26 new species
Sisoridae (Hillstream Catfishes) … 25 new species
Trichomycteridae (Pencil and Parasitic Catfishes) … 22 new species

Note that the first new species of 2026 is from one of these families. Here we go!

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7 Jan.
Photoblepharon Weber 1902

In 1967, Israeli soldiers attacked a school of fish. I learned about this last week from Caroline Mason, an ETYFish reader from Tasmania.

Ms. Mason sent me an email pointing out an error in the ETYFish entry for Photoblepharon, a genus of flashlight fishes (Anomalopidae) so called for the patches of living luminescent bacteria underneath their eyes, which they can turn off and on, like a flashlight. They use the light to see by, to communicate, to lure prey, and to confuse predators. The entry incorrectly states that the fish’s eyes, rather than the patches below them, were bioluminescent. The entry now reads:

phōtō– (φωτω-), combining form of phṓs (φῶς), light; blépharon (βλέφαρον), eyelids; Weber was among the first scientists to understand that there is a luminescent patch under each eye and that the fish uses an elastic black skin (functioning like an eyelid) that reveals or conceals this patch, in effect blinking it on and off at will

There are only two species in the genus:

Photoblepharon palpebratum (Boddaert 1781) from the western Pacific Ocean: –atum (L.), provided with: palpebra (L.), eyelid, referring to skin folds that slide up to cover the eyes in the manner of an eyelid (blinking the luminous organs on and off, but this was unknown to Boddaert)

Photoblepharon steinitzi Abe & Haneda 1973 from the western Indian Ocean: in honor of the late Heinz Steinitz (1909–1971), marine biologist and herpetologist (Hebrew University, Jerusalem), who sent specimens to the first author and suggested he describe it

In her email, Ms. Mason included this fascinating anecdote, recalling her days as a volunteer, and later as a Master’s student, for IORL (Israel Oceanographic and Limnological Research, National Institute of Oceanography), which shared the site and facilities at the lab where Heinz Steinitz worked:

“I first came across P. steinitzi in 1980 when I was working at the Heinz Steinitz lab at Eilat. I spent a week sailing my dinghy down the Gulf of Aqaba with a couple of friends. One moonless evening I was brushing my teeth at the water’s edge and a glowing, luminescent blob, about 3m by 2m, drifted past in the water, scaring the bejasus out of me. Back at the lab I recounted the story and was told that it was a school of P. steinitzi that had come to the surface to feed. 

“Apparently in the days of the ‘67 war [the Six-Day War, fought between Israel and a coalition of Arab states, including Egypt], Israeli soldiers stationed in Sinai assumed that the glowing patches were a secret Egyptian weapon, and lobbed hand grenades at them – only to find schools of odd little black fish dead on the shore the next day.”

Curious if this incident had been recorded in any journal or history book, I searched my files and found a 1977 article on flashlight fishes from Scientific American magazine written by ichthyologist John E. McCosker of the California Academy of Sciences. His account differs slightly from Ms. Mason’s reminiscence but tells essentially the same story:

“During midnight patrols along the coastline of the Sinai Peninsula after the Six-Day War, Israeli soldiers had observed a faint green glowing mass beyond the coral reef. The soldiers, naturally assuming that they had encountered a team of enemy frogmen, responded by discharging explosives in the glowing shoals. To their surprise the result was a beach littered with the bodies of small, dark fish whose heads continued to blaze with a pair of green, glowing patches.”