Some people find the quirks of the English language a joy, and as an editor and voracious reader, I am one of them. Discovering a new word, or rediscovering an old gem, is a treat. At a recent dinner party, I was reminded of the magnificent fun that can be had with collective nouns. Forget about the staid groupings you learnt about in school, and uncover the rarely used treasures that abound in these nouns of assembly.

The descriptive power of these collective nouns is what I find so compelling. For example, some infer the behavioural traits most associated with a particular animal: a pandemonium of parrots, a crash of rhinoceroses, a cackle of hyenas. Can’t you just hear the incessant squawking of raucous, multi-coloured birds, the crash of undergrowth as a rhino charges through, the creepy chortle of the hyena?

Some seem wonderfully evocative of the primary characteristics linked to an animal: a float of crocodiles (sinister eyes just above the waterline, waiting to strike….), a bloat of hippopotamuses (big bellies scraping the river bed, insolent yawns under a baking hot sun…..), a leap of leopards (stealthy and lithe, sinuously draped over a tree branch), a tower of giraffes (gangly and goofy, yet graceful and tranquil). Others seem to reveal more about people’s attitudes towards certain species than any attributes of the animals themselves: a skulk of foxes, a murder of crows. Both seem a little harsh, but are wonderfully evocative.

The noun of assembly that prompted this posting may be my favourite collective noun of all: it has flair, it’s descriptive, and it’s whimsical: a dazzle of zebras.