1081. Is an epitome a summary or a shining example? We look at why this word trips people up and how its meaning has changed over time. Then, we take a linguistic safari through the world of baby animal names—and what they tell us about language, culture, and human history.
1081. Is an epitome a summary or a shining example? We look at why this word trips people up and how its meaning has changed over time. Then, we take a linguistic safari through the world of baby animal names—and what they tell us about language, culture, and human history.
The "baby animal names" segment is by Karen Lunde, a career writer and editor. In the late '90s, as a young mom with two kids and a dog, she founded one of the internet's first writing workshop communities. These days, she facilitates expressive writing workshops, both online and off. Find her at chanterellestorystudio.com
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Grammar Girl here. I’m Mignon Fogarty, your friendly guide to the English language. Today, we're going to talk about why people are confused about how to use the word "epitome," and then we'll have some spring fun talking about baby animal names.
by Mignon Fogarty
"Epitome" is one of those words whose pronunciation can mess you up if you learned it from reading instead of from hearing people say it. The word is spelled E-P-I-T-O-M-E, and a lot of young readers end up thinking it's pronounced "epi-tome" instead of "epi-tuh-mee" because a lot of the other words that start with E-P-I are pronounced that way: "epicenter," "epidemic," "epidermis," and so on. And a lot of these people don't realize their mistake until years and years later.
But I recently came across some interesting changes in meaning the word has been going through too.
First, "epitome" comes from Greek where as a noun, it meant "summary" or "an abridgment," and as a verb, it meant "to cut short."
And it first meant the same thing in English — "a summary." For example, in a book describing some letters in 1698, the writer said, "It's very difficult to give an Abstract or Epitomy of them."
And here's a funny quotation from William Sclater, a British clergyman in 1623: "This age is strangely in love with epitomes."
It feels like he could have written that just last week about services that summarize books, like Blinkist or people who use ChatGPT to generate lots of summaries!
Now, I've never even heard this "summarizing" meaning. The meaning I know for "epitome" is "a representative or example of a class or type," as in "Squiggly is the epitome of chocolate-loving snails" — but it seems like it wasn't that long ago that the "summary" meaning started to fade.
The American Heritage Dictionary used to have a usage panel made up of language experts who would vote and comment on controversial usages. Well, in 2004, they were asked to weigh in on the word "epitome," and 20% of the panel still rejected this sentence: "Their business model is the epitome of efficiency."
And the suggestion in the write up is that this small percentage of panelists was sticking with the "summary" meaning being the only acceptable meaning. I was so surprised when I saw that!
But even among the 80% of panelists who accepted other meanings, another 10% seemed to say that "epitome" should be used to describe only positive examples of a class and not negative examples. So 10% thought you can say someone is the epitome of a medal-winning gymnast, but not that the pet rock is the epitome of useless gifts.
And that last example is a little ambiguous and gets to another meaning that seems to be emerging for "epitome," but that isn't accepted yet today, and that's the "pinnacle" meaning. Garner's Modern English Usage calls that meaning a mistake.
If I mean that the pet rock is a good example of the class of useless gifts, then the way I wrote it works, and most people would be OK with that use even though it's negative. But if I mean that the pet rock marked the pinnacle of the age of useless gifts, and I changed the verb to write, "The pet rock WAS the epitome of useless gifts," most people on the usage panel would say that use of "epitome" to mean "pinnacle" is wrong. But apparently you're hearing it more and more out in the world these days.
So some interesting history there. "Epitome" used to mean "summary"! But that meaning is fading, and if you use it that way today, you may even confuse people. It's fine to use it today to describe something that typifies its class (a person or a thing), and it's maybe a little better to stick with using it in a positive way. And for now, I'd avoid using it to mean "pinnacle."
by Karen Lunde
It all started with a school field trip and an innocent nature guide. As middle schoolers gathered round to learn about elephant seals, the docent proudly announced, "And these chubby youngsters are called weaners!" Cue an explosion of giggles and elbowing as every preteen definitely heard "wieners"—W-I-E-N-E-R-S instead of the actual term, "weaners"—that's W-E-A-N-E-R-S.
So where did quirky baby animal names like "weaner" come from? Unlike scientific classification with its fancy Latin terms and strict rules, everyday animal names—especially what we call their babies—popped up naturally as people worked and lived with animals through the centuries.
Think about farmers working with their livestock. They needed practical ways to talk about animals at different life stages. A cow that's still nursing needs different care than one ready for milking, right? So specific names for each stage just made life easier.
Hunters, too, created their own special words. Tracking a mother deer with her fawn requires different skills from hunting a full-grown buck, so distinct terms became part of their woodland vocabulary too.
Many of these names are ancient. Words like "calf" and "lamb" trace back to Old English, Germanic, and Norse languages. These terms were already old when Shakespeare was writing his plays.
And sometimes, a name just sticks because it sounds right. "Puggle" for baby echidnas? That's just fun to say! Some catchy, descriptive terms spread through communities simply because people liked them.
So, there's no official "Baby Animal Naming Committee" (though wouldn't that be the best job ever?). Instead, these words evolved naturally through everyday conversations, eventually making their way into farming guides, hunting manuals, and dictionaries.
OK, let's take a linguistic safari through a menagerie of baby animal names that might make you smile, raise your eyebrows, and maybe even scratch your head wondering, "Who came up with that?"
Ever seen a baby salmon? These little guys are called alevins, and they look absolutely bizarre—like tiny fish with built-in lunch boxes! They hatch with their yolk sacs still attached to their bellies. The word comes from Old French "alevain," meaning "to raise up." These tiny swimmers hide in gravel until they've gobbled up all the nutrients in their personal food pouches, then emerge as what we call "fry." Not to be confused with "fish fry," a Friday staple in many parts of the U.S.
Some baby fish are called fingerlings, and it's the most literal name ever. No fancy Latin roots or Old English history here, it likely stems from practical people saying, "Yep, that fish is about as long as my finger. Let's call it that!"
Peppa Pig and friends get called "piglets," of course, and you'll sometimes hear baby boars referred to as "boarlets." The "-let" ending is a linguistic hand-me-down, often called a "diminutive," that means "small version." It's kind of like how we add "-ito" in Spanish or "-chen" in German to make things sound cute and tiny. You'll spot this language pattern popping up all over our animal baby name journey!
Here's a word that gets around! Baby cows are calves, of course, but so are baby elephants, whales, and even hippos. This versatile word comes from the Old English word "cælf," which is related to the Old Norse "kálfr." We also call the back of our leg a "calf," but there doesn't seem to be a direct connection there in terms of etymology.
Baby swans get the elegant name "cygnet," which sounds like it belongs on a fancy restaurant menu. (But please don't eat baby swans!) It comes straight from Latin "cygnus" meaning "swan." When your parents have a fancy name, you get one too. No cute baby talk for these sophisticated water birds!
And D is for "duckling." No linguistic mysteries here! Take "duck," add the "-ling" ending that means "little one," and voilà—duckling! This straightforward naming pattern shows up in words like "yearling" (an animal that's a year old) and "foundling" (a found child).
Baby eels get a name that sounds like a character from "The Lord of the Rings"—"elver." The name comes from Old English "æl" (eel) and Middle English "elver," a dialectal variation of "eel." These tiny eels make an epic journey! They're born in the mysterious Sargasso Sea as leaf-like larvae, then transform into elvers as they swim thousands of miles to reach rivers in Europe and North America. Imagine making a cross-continental journey when you're still a baby!
And those adorable spotted baby deer? They're called "fawns," and the word comes from Latin "fētus" meaning "offspring." But here's something cool—the light brown color we call "fawn" is named after the deer, not the other way around.
Baby horses are "foals," and this is another ancient word. It traces back to Old English "fola" and has relatives in almost every European language. This suggests that humans have been naming baby horses since ... well, practically since we first encountered them.
And here's something interesting! Boy foals get the special title "colt," while girl foals are called "fillies." It's one of those rare cases where baby animals get different names based on their sex. The word "colt" comes from Old English and originally meant any young, inexperienced male – kind of like calling a teenage boy "sonny." "Filly" has Norse roots from "fylja," meaning "young female horse," and is related to the word "foal" itself.
Those fluffy yellow baby geese? They're goslings—literally "little goose" in Old English. But just don't call actor Ryan Gosling "Ryan Little Goose." His surname likely comes from a Middle English name referring to a place or person, not directly from the word for a baby goose.
Baby hedgehogs win the cuteness contest with both their appearance and their name. "Hoglet" combines "hog" (referring to their piggy snout) with our friend "-let" again. It's a relatively new term—linguistic evidence suggests people started using it in the early 1900s. That's practically yesterday in language years!
Baby kangaroos are joeys, but why? This one's a head-scratcher because it has absolutely nothing to do with the word "kangaroo" (which comes from the Aboriginal Guugu Yimithirr language). The best theory is that "joey" was just a generic term for "baby" or "small animal" that English colonists brought to Australia.
Ever wondered why baby rabbits, baby cats, and baby foxes are all called kittens or kits? This naming puzzle actually reveals how language works like a family tree with branches that grow in surprising directions. Both "kit" and "kitten" started as the same word way back in Middle English – "kitoun." That word came from Old French "chitoun," which ultimately traces back to Latin "cattus" meaning "cat." Originally, these terms were just for baby cats (which makes perfect sense).
But over time, people started using "kit" for baby rabbits and foxes. Why? Possibly because these babies are all small, fuzzy, and helpless when born—similar enough that the word just hopped from one animal family to another. It's like how we might call any small electronic device a "gadget" even if they're completely different things! So when you call a baby rabbit a "kit," you're technically using a nickname that means "little cat"!
Baby rabbits may be "kits," but baby hares get a fancy-sounding name—leveret. It comes from Old French "levret," a diminutive of "lièvre" (meaning "hare"). Next time you want to sound sophisticated, say "I spotted a leveret hopping through the meadow!" (Just be sure it's actually a hare and not a rabbit—they're different animals, and wildlife enthusiasts will definitely call you out on that mix-up!)
Next, young hens get the name "pullet" until they're about a year old. It comes from Middle English through Old French "poulet" (chicken), from Latin "pullus" meaning "young animal."
Just about everyone loves puppies! But did you know "puppy" was originally an insult? It comes from French "poupée," meaning "doll" or "toy"—basically calling dogs living playthings. Before "puppy" became popular, English speakers called baby dogs "whelps," which sounds way less cuddly. Language definitely made the right choice here!
Baby porcupines get the delightful name "porcupette," which sounds like it belongs in a French bakery! It's a modern mash-up of "porcupine" with the French diminutive "-ette." Whoever came up with this one was definitely going for maximum cuteness to balance out all those intimidating quills.
Baby pigeons have a weird-sounding name that actually fits them perfectly: squab. It comes from Swedish "skvabb" meaning "loose, fat flesh," which is exactly what baby pigeons look like before they grow their feathers. Like most baby birds, they're pudgy, naked blobs that only their mother could love. Most people never see squabs because pigeons nest in hidden spots until their babies are fully feathered and, you know, look presentable.
Tadpole, the word for baby frogs, literally means "toad-head" in Middle English ("tadde" for toad + "pol" for head). And that's exactly what they look like—swimming heads with tails. It's like our ancestors looked at these wiggling water creatures and said, "Let's call it exactly what it looks like!" No fancy linguistic roots needed when something is just a head with a tail!
As we learned from our middle school field trip mishap, baby elephant seals are weaners! The name is all about function, not cuteness. It describes the stage when the elephant seals are being weaned from their mothers' milk. These blubbery youngsters spend weeks living off their substantial fat reserves while learning to swim and hunt.
So whether it's a kit, cub, chick, or pup, each baby animal name has its own story to tell about human history, language evolution, and our never-ending fascination with the younger members of the animal kingdom. And that's definitely something worth squealing, bleating, and chirping about.
Karen Lunde is a career writer and editor. In the late '90s, as a young mom with two kids and a dog, she founded one of the internet's first writing workshop communities. These days, she facilitates expressive writing workshops, both online and off. Find her at chanterellestorystudio.com.
And finally, here's a familect from Melissa Fayad.
She says her family uses the phrase "Alice Doors." This could mean anything from entering a room and forgetting why you went through the door to starting a task and needing something that you should have brought with you. She says, "My sister and I loved 'Alice in Wonderland,' and this familact is based in the part of the book where Alice has fallen into Wonderland, but needs to get through a tiny door. She drinks from a bottle that makes her tiny, but she forgot the key to unlock the door. The key is on the table now towering above her. She eats a cookie that makes her large enough to get the key, but now too large to get through the door.
Thanks, Melissa! And if you're wondering why I'm reading the familect this week, it's because I'm out of recorded messages, so if you've ever thought of sharing your family's story, now is a great time! A familect is a word or phrase that you only use with your friends or family. It's like your secret language, and to send me a recording, you can call the voicemail line at 83-321-4-GIRL or leave a voice message on WhatsApp, and if you want that number or link later, you can always find them in the show notes.
Grammar Girl is a Quick and Dirty Tips podcast, and we have lots of other shows. This week, the Modern Mentor has an episode about how to handle burnout if you're a manager. I'm sure some people could benefit from that! Check it out. Again that's the Modern Mentor podcast.
Thanks to Nat Hoopes in Marketing; Dan Feierabend in audio; Morgan Christianson in advertising; Brannan Goetschius, director of podcasts; and Holly Hutchings in digital operations, who is getting her e-bike repaired this week to go out and enjoy the beautiful warm weather.
I'm Mignon Fogarty, better known as Grammar Girl and author of the tip-a-day book "The Grammar Daily." That's all. Thanks for listening.