Learning | Collective Nouns

I live near the water, so I often see flocks of geese in my neighborhood.  Flock is an example of a collective noun, which is a noun used to refer to a whole group of things. Think of a herd of cattle, or a pack of wolves. One of my favorite collective nouns is an embarrassment of riches. I think that's especially poetic.  

SSJCPL has a veritable plethora of books on English language collective nouns. Some of these books have been around quite a while, but I would like to draw your attention to a new one. It's a children's book called A Crackle of Crickets: A Compilation of Insect Collective Nouns.

Illustration from A Crackle of Crickets. Can you guess which collective noun this picture illustrates?
 Find the answer at the end of this post.

As I pondered the whole idea of collective nouns, I found myself asking a bunch of questions: If the plural of goose is geese, why isn't the plural of moose meese? I have always heard that moose is the plural for moose. Why isn't it meese? Or mooses? And what would Bullwinkle's Mr. Know-It-All think about this topic?

Bullwinkle. Photo courtesy of gamerscoreblog's photostream on Flickr.com. Some rights reserved.

Well, you know me; I couldn't resist a chance to look up another word in the dictionary. In my search for an answer, I discovered that moose is the North American term for elk. This animal is the largest member of the deer family. The native Abnaki people of Maine and Southern Quebec had a term, mos, for this beast; that is believed to be the origin of the English word. 

Moose family, Berlin NH; courtesy northeast_naturalist's photostream on Flickr.com. Some rights reserved.
The Latin name for these creatures is Alces alces americana.

I learned that moose is the most common plural of moose these days, but meese and mooses are acceptable older forms. I remain skeptical about that. I don't think I could get away with playing meese in a Scrabble game.  Plural moose are moose, just as plural deer are deer (not deers.) It has nothing to do with the goose/geese thing.

But if the plural of mouse is mice, what would the plural of mousse be? If only Mr. Know-It-All were here....

Moose mousse. Photo courtesy of Fraser Lewry's photostream on Flickr.com. Some rights reserved.

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Answer to the question about the top picture: a culture of bacteria. 

Learning | Bonus Letter Z?

Sometimes people who normally write material for adults produce some of the best children's books.  Take New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast, for instance. She collaborated with author/comedian/entertainer Steve Martin on The Alphabet from A to Y with bonus letter Z! 

This book is a fine example of the Bullwinkle Effect mentioned in my Hey, Moose! Where is Crocodile? post. This is classified as a children's picture book. Kids will enjoy it, but their parents will enjoy it just as much, if not more. 

There are things mentioned here that very small children won't necessarily understand until they are older, but they'll chuckle when they learn what they mean, because they'll remember some silly phrase from this book.


As one expects from a typical alphabet book, there's plenty of alliteration in the rhyming couplets for each letter. 

As one would expect from Steve Martin and Roz Chast, there's an abundance of silliness, too.

(Honestly, I wonder how they got this thing done. They must have had to take a lot of breaks to laugh, and then collect their composure.  I know Chast did all of the illustrations, but which jokes were Martin's? And who thought of dropping the usual "A to Z" progression, in favor of "A to Y" with "bonus letter Z?" I would love to have been a fly on the wall during their meetings.)

I like Chast's New Yorker cartoons because they are subtle.  They don't rely on just one gag; there's enough to keep the viewer going back to look at a piece again and again.  

Can you think of other examples of the Bullwinkle Effect?  What are your favorite silly alphabet books?

Learning | Hey, Moose! Where is Crocodile?

My friend, Rukaya, told me about a wonderful picture book written and illustrated by Fred Marcellino, called I, Crocodile. This wry story is told from the point of view of an Egyptian crocodile, who is captured by Napoleon's army and put on display in Paris. The illustrations don't just support the story; they complement it, with whimsical touches -- like the cover picture of the crocodile seated at a cafe table, holding a menu upside down.

History buffs will enjoy the jokes about Napoleon and 19th-century Parisian life; in fact, I think it would be a fun thing to share with high school or college students studying European history. This book is an example of what I call the Bullwinkle Effect: entertainment ostensibly designed for youngsters, but delightful for all ages -- children will enjoy it, but they will miss many of the references and jokes that amuse adults.

When Rukaya showed me the book, I wondered what else Fred Marcellino had written. It turns out he is better known as an illustrator, especially of folk tales. Marcellino's pictures in Natalie Babbitt's Ouch! a Tale from Grimm are just as clever as the ones in I, Crocodile.  I have a feeling I'll enjoy reading The Story of Little Babaji  and The Steadfast Tin Soldier just as much as the other two.