Taylor Swift has become so popular that she is no longer confined to the human species. A rising star entomologist at the University of California, Riverside, Sarah Schroeder, has named not one but four species of insects after Swift, critters so distinct
that they have been put in their own genus, Swiftiephylus.
The insects are named “in recognition of her show-stopping talent, heart-wrenching lyrics, and the joy and comfort she has brought to so many,” Schroeder writes in her new study, published todayin the scientific journal Insect Systematics & Evolution.
The brightly colored insects, native to Australia, are small — just fractions of an inch long — with colors that pop under a microscope. They are part of a large group of insects called “true bugs”; despite the misconception that all insects are “bugs,” a bug is technically an insect with a straw-like mouth and partly translucent wings.
The new species belong to a particular family of true bugs called plant bugs. Although Schroder’s research didn’t include any behavioral studies, plant bugs like Swiftiephylus live short, intense lives lasting one or two months. To eat, they insert their piercing/sucking mouthparts into the stems and shoots of plants, slurping up the plants’ juices, while using chemical pheromones to seek mates and reproduce. Much of the rest of the time, they’re (metaphorically) crossing their six legs hoping to not be detected by predators like birds or lizards.
Swiftiephylus bugs seem to be particularly good at not getting eaten thanks to their reddish-pink markings and blonde body, which camouflages perfectly with the flowers of the plants on which they’re found, called sheoaks (which are actually not oaks at all; unfortunately, the early European settlers in Australia often added “she” in front of words to convey inferiority, as in the quality of the plant’s wood). Far from inferior, these trees, which can look like pines with long droopy needles and reddish-orange flowers, host a large diversity of bugs beyond Swiftiephylys, creating a popular hangout for the six-legged beasts.
When Schroeder, 27, began her research in 2022 as a first-year PhD student, it was Swiftiephylus’ bright blonde and red colors that got her thinking of her favorite pop star, the red splotches evoking Swift’s signature red lipstick. At the time she didn’t know how many new species she would discover. Her mentor and co-author Christiane Weirauch and other scientists had collected 593 specimens during expeditions to Australia more than 20 years ago, which had subsequently sat on a shelf waiting to be examined. Weirauch had roughly sorted them into groups that looked alike, but it took Schroeder years of painstaking analysis to figure out their identities. By comparing the DNA and physical characteristics of all the specimens to the existing specimens held in museums around the world, Schroeder was able to determine that there were four closely related but distinct species to be grouped under one umbrella, which she named Swiftiephylus.
But the fun had just begun. The titular species, with red in the middle of its back, she named Swiftiephylus taylorae; for the other three, she chose names based on Swift’s albums: S. amator, Latin for “lover,” is “named for the dreary, hopeful, romantic 2019 album Lover;” S. intrepidus is named for Swift’s 2008 Fearless; and S. poetorum is named for 2024’s The Tortured Poets Department. Although there are subtle differences between the species, all four have the defining characteristic of having spines located near the tips of their penis. We don’t yet know the exact function of these spines during sex; “someone should deep freeze them in copula and actually look at the structures,” Weirauch says, referring to the widely accepted practice of freezing bugs during sex to see what all the parts are up to (and entirely redefining the notion of a “cold plunge”).
For Schroeder, all this work is deeply personal. She grew up in Rochester, Minnesota going to choir practice and bonding with her mom over listening to Swift. Her office is covered in Swift photos, and next year she will walk down the aisle to the song “Enchanted.” Being able to connect her love for music to her love for science and the natural world is especially rewarding. While science is often perceived as cold and overly logical, for Schroeder its practice stirs a humility and appreciation for the vastness of nature and the depth of time.
“I just really love trying to uncover what is out there and what has happened in the past. What is the diversity that’s out there and that we just don’t even know about yet?” she asks.
There are plenty more species waiting to be discovered. Despite spending millions of dollars each year trying to find life on other planets, we’ve only documented about 10 percent of earth’s biodiversity, and we estimate there are still 5-20 million species of insects alone awaiting discovery. With a biodiversity crisis brought on by humans’ modification of the environment, we may lose many of these creatures before ever knowing they existed, let alone understand their roles shaped by millions of years of evolution. “We know so little about any of these bugs that we don’t actually understand what we’re losing,” Weirauch says.
Schroeder is on a mission to find solutions, part of a generation of young taxonomists (biologists who name and describe species) demanding respect for their branch of science, which other scientists have often dismissed as “descriptive” and akin to stamp collecting. But when Schroeder tells people about her new discoveries, they are anything but bored, proving the general public’s fascination with finding new species.
“It’s like ‘Oh my God, you found a new species!!’” she says. “It’s amazing to them that there are species undescribed.”
Schroeder’s on the fast track to her dream job of one day working in a museum where she can continue the work of finding and describing new species — that is, if Taylor Swift can make enough albums to keep up.
Brad Balukjian is the publisher of Natural History magazine.
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