In paleontology, as with everything else, name recognition is important. Animals that lived millions of years before man are not bestowed common names; so the scientific designation must do double duty. It must be descriptive, and it must be unique. You get extra points for evocative, although that’s hard to pull off when the names are often awkward mixes of Latin, Greek, and whatever other language was lying around. But there are a few names that do pull it off. They are not merely the contract players; theirs are the ones that light up the marquee.
Brontosaurus is a fine example. This is a name that has done its job all too well, transcending its dubious status and becoming all but impossible to stamp out. Triceratops, a name that charges off the tongue. Stegosaurus and Ankylosaurus have a comforting bulk. The menacing Spinosaurus, the delightfully tongue twisting Pacycephalosaurus.
And then, of course, there are the stars. Tyrannosaurus Rex and Velociraptor. Both have their fanbase. The -raptor suffix has gained in popularity since Jurassic Park, and has now achieved, if not respectability, then a sort of cult status. Rex, of course, has a long and distinguished history, and is now almost exclusively associated with the Tyrannosauria. Neither is particularly original; in fact, at this point they are only outstripped by the hoary old -saurus in brand recognition. It was thus inevitable that someone, in the manner of a Hollywood Executive, would attempt the unholy task of cobbling the two together.
Meet Raptorex. 9 feet tall and about 180 pounds, probably feathered, and nearly identical to its far larger and later cousin.
Raptorex (copyright Todd Marshall)
Look at it. You can almost hear the pitch. “It’s like T.rex, see, but raptor sized! It’s hitting two demographics at once!” The name is worse then generic; it’s high concept. It seems to beg for bad taglines, like this memorably gag inducing example from National Geographic: “If dinosaur evolution were an Austin Powers movie, T. rex would be Dr. Evil. And today scientists unveiled Mini-Me.” Paul Sereno, a paleontologist known for his common touch (and the man who named the dinosaur) calls it “Punk sized.” Most news outlets are calling it the “Tiny Tyrant,” which is what they call every small tyrannosaurid. Science reporters are apparently an unimaginative lot.
This is a pity, because the actual meaning of the name is rather nice. Raptorex Kriegsteini directly translates to ” Kriegstein’s Thief king,” which while unoriginal is pleasantly poetic. Though when you’re talking about what is essentially an undersized version of a wildly popular and well known dinosaur, originality becomes something of a moot point.
Raptorex isn’t the worst dinosaur name I’ve heard. But I very much doubt it will ever join its forerunners at the nomeclatural hall of fame. It is simply generic, in every possible sense. Like many high concept films, it isn’t more then the sum of its parts.
There is one small bright spot, though. Dinosaur names don’t get sequels. Otherwise we might well be forced to contend with Raptorex…osaurus.
Asher Elbein
Asher Elbein has been writing about dinosaurs in one capacity or another for five years, most recently in the magazines Prehistoric Times and Teen Ink. He’s collaborated with Fernbank Museum of Natural History and can be found at University of Alabama ...
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