Humans or Hounds? Bozeman’s Wild Naming Craze
BOZEMAN, MT— Forget John or Susan—today’s tots are dubbed Bear, Yellowstone, or Elk, leaving locals wondering if they’re at a playground or a petting zoo.
“It started innocently,” says local doula Moonbeam Starshine, sipping bone broth at the Co-Op. “Someone named their kid River after a fly-fishing trip. Now you can’t throw a Patagonia beanie without hitting a toddler named Trout or Moose.”
Bozeman’s baby name registry now reads like Yellowstone Park’s wildlife checklist. At last week’s Story Mill Park playdate, we met Sagebrush Smith, Bison Jones, and Hyalite Hernandez—all under age 3, all blissfully unaware their names scream “my parents dropped $2 million on a cabin they use twice a year.”
The confusion is real. Local vet Dr. Chad Thompson reports clients bringing in labradoodles named Bridger and sons named Badger. “I had to double-check the rabies shot was for the dog.” Last month, a daycare teacher accidentally sent Osprey Olson home with a leash instead of a lunchbox.
“My son Cutthroat will grow up resilient, like the trout,” beams tech transplant Chad Musk, whose Instagram bio reads “Father to Cutthroat, Husband to Madison (the person, not the river).”
Critics are howling. “Naming your kid Appaloosa doesn’t make you indigenous—it makes you a poser,” gripes local historian Wanda Peartree. Downtown attorney Hank Willson agrees: “I’m not hiring a Tumbleweed Thompson for my law firm.”
Teachers report roll call now sounds like a Fish & Wildlife inventory: “Pronghorn, stop poking Brook! Elk, put down that glue stick!”
At a recent dad meetup, one father bragged about naming his newborn Imp Peak after a disastrous Hilgard hike. Another pitched Bad Luck Creek for his next kid.
The Poser’s advice? If you’re naming your spawn Gnome Lake, at least teach them to bark before kindergarten. In Bozeman, it’s survival of the fittest, whether you’re human, hound, or just a really confused Cutthroat.
