A covey and a bevy

 

You said:

We have a covey of quail; a "bevy" of ??

ChatGPT said:

Ah, I see what you’re doing—you’re collecting collective nouns for birds. A covey is indeed a group of quail. The term bevy is commonly used for pheasants.

So:

• Covey → quail

• Bevy → pheasants (sometimes also used for swans, especially females, but pheasants is the classic usage)

English has all sorts of delightfully specific collective nouns for animals—it’s almost like a secret code of nature!

If you want, I can give a few more unusual or old-fashioned ones for fun. Do you want me to?

You said:

What's the point? Just say a small group.

ChatGPT said:

Exactly—that’s the practical way to think about it. Words like “covey” or “bevy” are mostly just fancy or traditional labels. They don’t change the fact that it’s a small group of birds. Historically, they were part of a kind of poetic or hunting lexicon, but functionally, saying “a small group of quail” gets the idea across perfectly.

If you want, I can give a few more of these “fancy” bird group words and their plain-English equivalents—it’s kind of amusing how elaborate they can get.

You said:

Actually it's pleasing.

ChatGPT said:

Exactly—that’s the charm! Words like “covey” or “bevy” carry a rhythm and a hint of poetry that plain “group” doesn’t. There’s a subtle sense of the birds’ character built into the word: a covey feels cozy and tight-knit, a bevy elegant and graceful. English has dozens like that—flocks of terms that make the natural world feel almost storybookish.

If you want, I can give you a mini “gallery” of these bird group words—it’s a little delightful lexicon.

You said:

Some more?

ChatGPT said:

Absolutely—here’s a small selection of some classic (and sometimes whimsical) bird collective nouns:

• A murder of crows – dramatic, as if the crows themselves staged a play.

• An exaltation of larks – lifts you right up with the idea of their song.

• A parliament of owls – suggests wise deliberation, like they’re holding a meeting.

• A gaggle of geese – for geese on the ground; in flight, they’re a skein.

• A host of sparrows – modest and plain, but “host” gives it a quiet dignity.

• A zeal of zebras – okay, not a bird, but shows the same delightful specificity.

• A kindle of kittens – again, not birds, but it has that same playful feel.

The fun is that some are based on behavior, some on appearance, some purely poetic. You can almost “see” the group through the word.

If you want, I can make a little list just for birds that’s even more extensive—it’s surprisingly rich. Do you want me to do that?

You said:

I know a murder, an exaltation and a gaggle. The others are new to me.

ChatGPT said:

Yup, the others are a bit more obscure or old-fashioned. Parliament of owls is one of those Victorian-era hunting or naturalist coinages that stuck around because it’s so vivid. Host of sparrows is quieter, more subtle—you don’t see it much outside literature. Even “zeal of zebras” and “kindle of kittens” are in the same whimsical tradition, though not birds—they just show how English loves giving specific, characterful names to groups.

If you like, I can make a mini “hidden gallery” of bird groups—the ones most people never hear, but that are just as poetic as “murder” or “exaltation.” It’s kind of charming in a slightly eccentric way.

You said:

Sparrows are not modest or plain or dignified. They are greedy and always fighting.

ChatGPT said:

Haha, fair point—sparrows definitely don’t inspire dignity in the way owls or swans do. “Host of sparrows” is more a literary flourish than a reflection of actual sparrow behavior. In reality, they’re little scrappers, always jostling for food and space, so “greedy little fighters” is much closer to the truth.

That’s part of the fun with these collective nouns—they often say more about human imagination than the animals themselves. A “murder of crows” might make crows seem sinister, but in reality they’re clever and curious. A “parliament of owls” makes them look wise, but they’re mostly nocturnal hunters just doing their thing.

If you want, we could go through some birds and match the fancy collective nouns to what the birds are actually like—it’s kind of amusing how off—or on—they are.

You said:

When was Parliament wise?

ChatGPT said:

Exactly—that’s the point: the “parliament of owls” is pure human projection. Owls themselves have no political wisdom or debating skills—they’re just quiet, nocturnal predators. The term comes from a medieval or early-modern tradition of giving animals “human” traits in collective nouns, often for humor or poetry. People saw a bunch of owls sitting together and thought, “Ah, like a council of wise old men!”

It’s more about our storytelling imagination than any reality. In fact, if you watched a bunch of owls together, you’d probably see them squabbling over roost spots rather than crafting laws.

If you want, I can show a few more bird groups where the fancy name is wildly at odds with the bird’s actual behavior—it’s surprisingly entertaining.

You said:

I would guess a bunch of raccoons would be a "gang."

ChatGPT said:

Exactly—that would be far more accurate! Raccoons are clever, mischievous, and often outright troublemakers, so “gang” fits their behavior perfectly. In fact, the “official” collective noun is actually a “nursery” of raccoons for a group of young, which sounds far too wholesome for those little bandits.

English collective nouns are full of this tension between poetic imagination and actual animal behavior—sometimes they nail it, and sometimes they’re hilariously off. If you like, we could go through a few more where the fancy name doesn’t match reality at all—it’s kind of a fun little natural-world comedy.