Let’s start at the beginning of the alphabet with a shrewdness of apes. A what, you say? This is definitely a collective noun, and it’s still in common enough use to turn up as the name of a blog.

A sloth of bears: Unusual to have the name of another animal as the collective noun, and so far it’s the only one I’ve found like this. It describes bears in their general state, but when they’re chasing after you through the forest, I don’t think sloth is the word that comes to mind.

An obstinacy of buffalo: This surely indicates that people who work with buffalos have a few problems with them. You’d think this would apply to donkeys, but apparently not. Donkeys are left with two rather bland words: a herd, or a pace. A pace of donkeys? I don’t think so.

A clowder of cats: Never heard of a clowder? Me neither. But it’s definitely a word, and it’s the word used in relation to a cluster of cats, especially feral cats that gather together to hunt collectively. Dictionary.com defines the word this way:
[Origin: 1795–1805; var. of dial. clodder clotted mass, n. use of clodder to clot, coagulate, ME clothered, clothred (ptp.), var. of clotered; cf. obs. clotter to huddle together. The word apparently has connections with clutter. And certainly cats can be known to clutter up the place – just think about the last time you went to sit on your favourite chair, in the sun.

Next we come to a bask of crocodiles: If ever there was a word that was descriptive of the action – or inaction – of crocodiles, this must be it. Basking in the sun is pretty much what they do with their lives – at least until they leap out of the water and chomp your leg off.

A mute of hares: Ever heard hares make any noise? Occasionally they might thump on the ground to get another hare’s attention, but in general, hares are as silent as giraffes. And talking of giraffes, they’re in the enviable position of having several collective nouns applied to them: a corps, a troop, a herd, a tower (love it!) a kindergarten or a journey. Plainly the people who thought up these words were imaginative and had as much fondness for these remarkable animals as I have.

Next, one of my favourites: a bloat of hippopotamuses – or hippopotami, if you’re being pedantic. Doesn’t this just convey what we all feel about these enormous creatures? They’re so much like something that’s filled out its skin – and then gone a bit further.

What about jellyfish? Most of us would probably just get out of their way, rather than worry about what a group of them are called. Nevertheless, a group of jellyfish are called either a fluther or a smack. The latter sounds more appropriate, particularly if you get hit by one. But a fluther? The origins of this word are harder to trace, but I suspect that if a clowder of cats has connections with the word clutter, then a fluther may well have connections with a flutter.

The next one is a labour of moles: We stayed at a house in the village of Whepstead (near Bury St Edmunds) recently, and the moles were definitely labouring: they dug at least half a dozen holes in the lawn every night.

A pandemonium of parrots needs no comment whatsoever. Anyone who’s ever stood outside the cages of the average zoo’s aviary and listened to the parrots will know why this word is appropriate.

I like the next one: a muster, or a parcel, of penguins: Penguins have that kind of military air about them when you see them in large numbers (check out the movie, Happy Feet, if you don’t know what I mean). A parcel is a little more difficult to envisage, because we tend to think of parcels as something we get from the postman. An individual penguin has a parcel feel about him, but several?

An unkindness of ravens: Some people even use the expression a murder of ravens. I think that’s even unkinder than the first collective word. Ravens of course have a gloomy literary reputation to keep up, (Quoth the Raven and so on) but I think it’s time we came up with something more pleasant for these birds. A roost of ravens, perhaps?

The next one speaks for itself: a crash of rhinoceroses. Alongside the bloat of hippos this is utterly apt.

A rafter of turkeys seems an odd expression: Whoever saw turkeys in the rafters? If they were up there it would be more like a bedlam of turkeys.

The penultimate on my list is a descent of woodpeckers: I’ve never thought of woodpeckers descending on a place, but I guess that’s what they do. Our tendency is only to notice them once they’ve come knocking. Perhaps a knock of woodpeckers would actually be more to the point?

And finally, a zeal of zebras: I think someone was just being alliterative with this word, because zebras aren‘t exactly zealous in any obvious way I can think of. There’s a much better word for them as a group: a dazzle of zebras. Now that strikes a proper chord.