America’s First Bug Whisperer: The Birth of Thomas Say
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
June 27, 1787
On this day, the naturalist Thomas Say drew his first breath in this world - a man destined to revolutionize how Americans understood the crawling, buzzing creatures that shared their gardens.
One might call him the original bug whisperer of our fair nation.
Born into a respectable Quaker family with fortuitous connections, Say was related to the illustrious Bartrams - those botanical luminaries whose garden on the Schuylkill River would become his childhood playground.
One can easily imagine young Thomas crouching in the soil, magnifying glass in hand, while other children played at more conventional pursuits.
What made Say remarkable, dear readers, was his audacious insistence that Americans need not ship every curious beetle or mysterious moth across the treacherous Atlantic for proper identification. Before his time, our specimens endured perilous sea voyages only to arrive in European hands damaged, deteriorated, or simply misunderstood.
How utterly provincial we must have seemed!
Say boldly proclaimed that American creatures deserved American names, bestowed by American minds. The gardeners among you will appreciate the satisfaction of knowing precisely what is eating your prized roses, rather than waiting months for a confused European to misname your garden pest!
In the realm of insects particularly, Say established himself as our nation's premier authority. Indeed, he is widely regarded as the father of descriptive entomology in the United States - a grand title for a man who simply loved studying the smallest inhabitants of our gardens and fields.
Tragically, typhoid fever claimed this brilliant mind on October 10th, 1834, when he was merely 47 years old. His obituary, rather poetically dramatic (as was the fashion), concluded with these words:
"On the 8th, the hopes of his friends were flattered by a deceitful calm.
On the day following, these hopes for chilled;
He appeared sinking under debility when on the 10th, death came over him like a summer cloud.
He met the embrace as the weary traveler falls into the arms of restoring sleep.
Intellect triumphed to the last hour.
He left his wife directions as to his Library and Cabinet of Natural History."
One must admire a man whose final thoughts were for his scientific collections!
Such dedication seems particularly fitting for someone who spent his life cataloguing the overlooked wonders of our natural world.
The next time you discover an unusual insect in your garden beds, perhaps take a moment to consider it with the same curiosity and respect that Thomas Say would have shown.
After all, knowing one's garden companions - whether friend or foe - is the mark of a truly accomplished gardener.
And should you ever find yourself near Philadelphia, consider paying homage to Say's early inspiration with a visit to Bartram's Garden, where a young naturalist once learned to see the extraordinary in the ordinary creatures that inhabit our gardens.