Alligators and Possums and Porcupines

Wilfred Funk’s Word Origins and Their Romantic Stories is always worth a look on a rainy, cool summer day in Knoxville.

Today I happened on his wonderful chapter on animal names and found several surprises. For instance, I knew that “crocodile,” being an old-world creature, was probably Greek, and it is: “krokodeilos” from “kroke,” “gravel,” and “drilos,” “worm.” But I didn’t know that the word “alligator” was also from a European language (since it is a New World creature). In Spanish, “lizard” is “el lagarto” (pronounced “el laharto”). The word went through several transformations and spellings before it settled on “alligator.” I mean, does that sound Spanish to you?


Here’s another surprise: the word “antler.” Surely that is not from a European language. Doesn’t sound like it, anyway. Turns out the stag’s horn, seeming to come out of the skull around the eye, was called “ante ocularem ramum,” or “the branch before the eye.” This descended into old French as “antoillier” (“oeil” being “eye” even in modern French) and thus to “antler.” Actually, I think Funk must be slightly wrong on this one, because the article “l’” should appear before oeil, which would make sense because the “l” sound is preserved in the word “antler.” If Funk’s derivation is correct, the modern word should be “anter,” which it ain’t.


Opossum is, as I think I have heard before, an Algonquian word, “apasum,” or “white beast.” The opossum is unfortunate in that it cannot hide in daylight because of its white color, so it “plays possum” to avoid predators. These creatures can be scary, as I discovered one time when I found one in a garbage can I had carelessly left without its top.


Porcupines were another surprise. The original name for this in French was “porc d’espine,” or “spiny pig.” This was brought into English as “porkepyn” apparently after the French dropped the “s” in “espine” and it became “epine” (there is a telltale accent mark over the first e in this word, but frankly, I don’t know how to make it. If you ever see an accent mark listing from left to right on a French word, it is quite possible that in older French an “s” was concealed therein.

You never know when this bit of information might prove useful.

Encouragement

My cousin Marjorie, an excellent writer, has encouraged me by reading this blog and commenting on it; I cannot thank her enough for this. So I’m moved to meditate on the word “encourage.”

“Courage,” like so many other words, entered the language as a result of the Norman Conquest in 1066; but this word makes its appearance around 1300 as “corage” from Vulgar (popular) Latin “coraticum,” from classical Latin “cor,” or heart. You will find it in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales among many other sources. French for “heart” is “coeur,” so you can see where we got the otherwise puzzling “u” in the spelling.

“Heart” remains, as etymonline.com states, “a common metaphor for inner strength.” We still refer to boxers and other pugilists as having “heart.” We also use “heart” in English when we say the negative, as in “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her wedding gown was hiked up behind, showing her underwear” (perhaps not the most common usage of the term).

We see the “cor” root throughout medicine, of course, as in “cardiac care” or “cardiologist.” It works physically as well as metaphorically.

“Encourage,” then, means simply to put heart into someone, or to impart inner strength.

Thank you, Marjorie, for the gift.