Why Does the Word “Mosquito” Come from Spanish?

A few years ago, it occurred to me to wonder where the word “mosquito” came from, and I realized it was almost certainly from Spanish. I mused that, unlike borrowings from Latin and French, “mosquito” was probably a colonial loanword, as Spanish loanwords in English tend to be post-Columbian borrowings from Latin American Spanish into North American English.

Looking up the etymology of the word, I found that “mosquito” was in fact a post-Columbian borrowing from Spanish, with the earliest occurrence of the word in English being from the 1580s (although the website does not specify if the borrowing occurred in the Americas or Europe). But were mosquitoes present in Europe before colonization, and if so, what were they called in English?

Recently, I decided to dig deeper. Mosquitoes apparently did exist in Europe before Columbus, being a thorn in the side of the Byzantines, Ancient Greeks, and Romans. Given that mosquitoes were present in pre-Columbian Britain and that the English word “mosquito” is of post-Columbian origin, the original word for the animal must have been something else. I found a page on the Maryland Department of Agriculture website stating the English word for “mosquito” was originally “gnat”, but it cites no sources. Nevertheless, coming across that page led me to look up “gnat” in the Historical Thesaurus of English, and as a result, I found that the word has indeed been used since Old English times to refer to mosquitoes, though only to certain genera (I assume the genera present in Britain during that period). The first word to be used to refer to the entire Culicidae family was “mosquito” in about 1583.

But the fact that the word “mosquito” is used throughout the English-speaking world rather than only in North America puzzled me. There is nothing unusual in North American anglophones in close contact with Spanish speakers borrowing Spanish equivalents for existing words, but for British English to do so strikes me as odd. Why would British English borrow a term for an animal already existing in Europe from Spanish (presumably Latin American Spanish via North American English) rather than French or Latin, which are geographically and culturally closer and its usual sources of loanwords?

Given that “gnat” originally referred to a specific subset of mosquitoes, I assume that English speakers felt the need to refer to the mosquitoes they encountered in the Americas as “mosquitoes” rather than “gnats” because they were different from European “gnats” in some noticeable way, with this semantic difference thus providing a reason for the adoption of the word in British English. In what way specifically these species might have differed, I don’t know, as I neither am a biologist nor know the historical differences between European and American mosquitoes. If anyone has more information, please let me know.

Another possibility is that English speakers in the Americas started using “mosquito” more frequently than “gnat” not because of the biological differences between European and American mosquito species, but rather solely because of their more extensive contact with Spanish, with this new synonym of “gnat” then spreading from North American English to British English. I am less confident in this being the case. It seems more plausible to me for “mosquito” to have initially been used in English to refer specifically to American species, with this usage later extending to refer to European species as well. Perhaps the British adoption of “mosquito” was influenced by the French mousquite (modern moustique), which is also a loanword from Spanish from around the same period.

(Incidentally, this whole topic reminds me of this WordReference thread I found while trying to figure out how to translate the Spanish word zancudo, which can apparently refer to any of several different types of biting insects depending on the region, and which occurs in Voyage à la Sierra-Nevada de Sainte-Marthe by Élisée Reclus. I eventually decided to leave the word as is, since it was a foreign word in the source text to begin with, and I did not know which of the various possible species was meant.)

On Mosquitoes: Accounts by 19th-Century Travelers in Canada and Colombia (excerpts)

In Chapter IX of his 1897 travelogue Labrador et Anticosti, Victor-Alphonse Huard describes what he calls the “mosquito war” (La guerre avec les moustiques) he and his companions faced when traveling on Anticosti Island in Quebec:

But just as we got the canoe back on board, we heard the crew on the shore desperately hailing us, and we had to go get our fisherman, who told us about his adventures during his brief excursion. First, there were no fish in the stream where he cast his line because it flowed over a rocky slope rather than a normal riverbed. But more importantly, he was attacked by countless battalions of ferocious mosquitoes and had to retreat. The glorious wounds on his body eloquently attested to the veracity of this part of his story.
[…]
The evening came, and this, combined with the calm weather, meant that so did legions of horseflies (cavalry!) and flies with rich, greenish, golden eyes. There were also mosquitoes like those Mr. Lagueux had faced off against a few hours earlier. After everything we went through, now this! The flies and horseflies, like the well-raised insects they were, were content to fly gracefully around us, but the mosquitoes! The mosquitoes of Anticosti Island were positively barbaric, with no concept of laws, respect for others, or any sense of reserve. We all know how bad even civilized mosquitoes are, so imagine the savage ferocity of their Anticosti relatives unleashed on three poor Canadians in distress on this desolate shoreline! The situation was so bad that we had to resort to using the arms in our possession. Father Lagueux and I both had anti-mosquito drugs prepared in Paris and Quebec, but we found that they were not very effective. We even went so far as to cover ourselves in both drugs simultaneously. This gave us some relief, and most of the enemy retreated on approaching this oily and pungent layer dripping from our bodies and hands; but there were still some mosquitoes (elite warriors, evidently) brave enough to attack us and pierce us with their venomous sting. In such dire circumstances, I decided to resort to drastic measures. Anticipating such a situation, I had brought a large muslin veil. I covered myself in it (combined with the lack of a cigar in my mouth, this made me look like a first communicant), thus achieving a state of satisfactory tranquility, only occasionally troubled by some fierce enemy who somehow found a way to pierce my armor.

Mais le canot était à peine revenu à bord que l’équipage s’entendit désespérément héler du rivage, et il fallut aussitôt aller chercher notre pêcheur, qui nous raconta les aventures dont sa brève excursion n’avait pas manqué. D’abord, il n’y avait pas de poisson dans le ruisseau où il avait jeté la ligne et qui coule plutôt sur un escalier de pierre que sur un lit ordinaire de rivière ; mais, surtout, le sportsman s’était vu attaqué par de si innombrables bataillons de féroces moustiques qu’il avait dû céder au nombre et battre en retraite. De glorieuses blessures confirmaient éloquemment cette dernière partie du récit.
[…]
Le soir finit par arriver, et avec lui, grâce à la placidité de l’atmosphère, nous vinrent des légions de taons à cheval (de la cavalerie !) et de jolies mouches dont les yeux d’or aux reflets verdâtres étaient d’une grande richesse ; il vint aussi de ces moustiques avec qui M. Lagueux avait eu maille à partir quelques heures auparavant. Il manquait vraiment ce comble à notre infortune ! Les taons et les mouches, en insectes bien élevés, se contentaient de nous envelopper des méandres gracieux de leur vol ; mais les moustiques ! les moustiques de l’Anticosti ! c’est-à-dire des moustiques encore barbares, qui n’ont aucune idée de loi, ni d’égards, ni de réserve quelconque. On connaît assez combien les moustiques civilisés sont encore sujets à caution. Que l’on imagine donc, si on le peut, la sauvage férocité de leurs congénères de l’Anticosti s’acharnant contre trois pauvres Canadiens en détresse sur ce rivage désolé ! La situation fut jugée assez sérieuse, pour que nous recourussions aux armes que nous possédions. M. l’abbé Lagueux et moi étions munis chacun de drogues (antimoustiquaires), préparées l’une à Paris, l’autre à Québec, et nous éprouvâmes leur efficacité, qui était minime ; nous allâmes jusqu’à nous oindre successivement de l’une et de l’autre à la fois. Cela nous procura bien quelque soulagement, et le gros des ennemis reculaient en approchant de cette couche huileuse et fortement aromatisée, dont ruisselaient notre figure et nos mains ; mais il y avait toujours des insectes plus hardis, des foudres de guerre évidemment, qui méprisaient ces obstacles et nous perçaient à l’envi de leurs dards empoisonnés. Dans cette extrémité, je me résolus d’employer les grands moyens. En prévision de circonstances aussi fâcheuses, j’avais apporté un immense voile de mousseline. Je m’enveloppai là-dedans (il paraît que, sans le cigare que j’avais aux lèvres, on m’aurait pris volontiers, affublé de la sorte, pour une première communiante) et j’obtins de cette manière une tranquillité satisfaisante, troublée seulement, de loin en loin, par quelque féroce ennemi qui trouvait encore moyen de m’atteindre à travers les mailles de ma cotte d’armes.

In a footnote to this paragraph, Huard describes unpleasant encounters others had had with mosquitoes half a world away:

The following story might give readers who have not had the awful experience of being assaulted by swarms of mosquitoes some idea of what it is like.
I once read somewhere (and this is apparently not just a tall tale) that in a certain part of South America, there is a rather small river descending from the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta that is full of gold. This river is called the Volador river, discovered by Élisée Reclus. Many people have tried to extract the enormous quantities of gold dust in the river, but every attempt has failed because of all the mosquitoes! I do not think this story is as implausible as it might seem to some.

S’il y a des lecteurs qui n’ont pas encore eu l’occasion d’expérimenter à quel point le fléau des moustiques est terrible, le fait suivant leur en donnera un peu l’idée.

J’ai lu quelque part, et ce n’est pas là, affirme-t-on, simple conte de voyageur, qu’il y a en certain endroit de l’Amérique du Sud, une rivière peu considérable, qui descend de la Sierra de St-Martha, et qui coule littéralement dans un lit d’or : c’est la rivière Volador, découverte par Élisée Reclus. Eh bien, toutes les tentatives que l’on a faites pour exploiter cette mine de sable d’or, qui s’y trouve en quantité fabuleuse, ont échoué à cause des moustiques qu’il y a là ! Tous les travailleurs que l’on y a envoyés ont dû battre en retraite. — Si l’on trouve que cela est raide…

While researching this story, I found that Élisée Reclus himself wrote about his experience with mosquitoes in his book, Voyage à la Sierra-Nevada de Sainte-Marthe (the second edition of which was published in 1881), in which he describes his journey to the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in what is now Colombia:

After climbing the first few hills, we arrived at the Volador house, named after a tree (Gyrocarpus americanus) whose large branches are spread out over the roof. This house was built by Arawaks to shelter the unfortunate travelers who find it necessary to stop in the area to rest because of fatigue, storms, or floods. I say “unfortunate” because it is almost impossible to stay at the Volador because of the countless insects and other animals that the New Grenadians refer to by the general name of “plague” (plaga).
Among these are all sorts of mosquitoes flying merrily and incessantly in the shade; they swarm by the hundreds on the least patch of exposed skin, and one has to run and flail around like a madman to get rid of them. When these thousands of mosquitoes have gorged themselves on human blood, they gradually disappear, but they are soon replaced by clouds of zancudos, a kind of large mosquito with a proboscis almost a centimeter long, who come to take their turn at the feast. Their stingers pierce clothing, and neither wildly moving about nor trying to rest does anything against these thirsty blood-suckers. In the morning, the zancudos disappear, but another legion of mosquitoes is ready to take their place, and in the blink of an eye one is surrounded by a new swarm of enemies. There are also mosquitoes that never rest, such as the jejen, an insect so small it can be barely felt when one swats it, and another species of mosquito with a sucker-like stinger that leaves a small patch of coagulated blood that gradually peels off over the course of a few weeks. After one spends some time being stung by these insects, one’s face becomes swollen and unsightly.

Après avoir gravi les premières pentes, on arrive au rancho du Volador ainsi nommé d’un arbre¹ qui étale ses vastes branches au-dessus du toit. Ce rancho a été bâti par des Indiens Aruaques pour abriter les malheureux voyageurs que la fatigue, l’orage ou la crue des rivières empêchent de continuer leur route ; malheureux, ai-je dit, car il est à peine possible d’exister au Volador, exposé, comme on l’est, aux innombrables insectes et autres animaux que les Néo-Grenadins désignent sous le nom général de fléau (plaga).
Ce sont d’abord les moustiques de toute espèce, dont les tourbillons joyeux dansent incessamment sous l’ombrage ; ils s’abattent par centaines sur la moindre surface de la peau laissée à découvert, et, pour s’en débarrasser, il faut se livrer sans relâche à une gymnastique désespérée et courir çà et là comme un forcené. Vers le soir, quand ces millier [sic] de mosquitos se sont repus de sang humain, leurs essaims disparaissent par degrés, mais ils sont bientôt remplacés par des nuages de zancudos, énormes maringouins au dard long de près d’un centimètre, qui viennent à leur tour prendre part à la curée. Comment leur échapper pendant la nuit? Leur aiguillon atteint la chair à travers les vêtements, et qu’on se démène en fureur ou qu’on essaye vainement de se reposer, on n’en est pas moins couvert de buveurs de sang toujours inassouvis. Le matin, les zancudos disparaissent à leur tour, mais une autre légion de moustiques est prête comme un relais pour leur succéder, et à peine a-t-on pu respirer un instant que l’on est enveloppé d’un nouveau tourbillon d’ennemis. Il est aussi des maringouins qui ne se reposent jamais, entre autres le jejen, insecte imperceptible qu’on sent à peine sous le doigt qui l’écrase, et une espèce de moustique dont le dard agit comme une ventouse et laisse une petite tache de sang coagulé qui s’exfolie au bout de quelques semaines. Si l’on reste longtemps exposé aux attaques de ces insectes, la figure, toute boursouflée de piqûres, prend bientôt un aspect hideux.
^{1.Gyrocarpus americanus.}

Later, Reclus relates how the attempts of some would-be prospectors to obtain the gold in the area were foiled by its loyal guardian fauna:

The stream that flows next to the Voldaor cabin has a large quantity of gold specks, but everyone who has attempted to collect them has failed, being forced to flee from the mosquitoes. Two years prior, the French Vice-Consul of Riohacha had obtained rights to the placeres of the Volador and had an ingeniously made gauze tent placed there. For two days, he tried to live in the tent to supervise his workers. The workers had gloves on and their faces covered, but at the end of the second day, the Vice-Consul and his workers agreed to give up their lucrative, yet tiring, work. Later, an avaricious Italian who had received permission from the Vice-Consul to wash the Volador’s golden sands did not even last two days and left after only having collected gold worth about ten pieces of eight. The only humans who can take full advantage of the resources in the streams of the Volador are the inhabitants of Dibulla and the neighboring villages, who are protected by their leprous shells—but they are also the only people who have no interest in increasing their wealth.

Le ruisseau qui coule à côté de la cabane du Volador roule, dans ses sables, une grande quantité de paillettes d’or ; mais toutes les tentatives qu’on a faites pour les recueillir ont été vaines : il a fallu s’enfuir devant les moustiques. Le vice-consul français de Rio-Hacha, ayant obtenu la concession des placeres du Volador, y avait fait transporter, deux années auparavant, une tente de gaze très-ingénieusement disposée. Pendant deux jours, il essaya dé vivre sous cet abri pour surveiller le travail de ses ouvriers : ceux-ci étaient gantés et avaient la figure voilée; mais à la fin du deuxième jour, maître et ouvriers abandonnèrent, d’un commun accord, leur tâche, aussi fatigante que lucrative. Plus tard, un Italien avide, qui avait reçu du vice-consul la permission de laver les sables aurifères du Volador, ne put même travailler pendant deux jours entiers, et quitta la besogne après avoir recueilli la valeur d’environ dix piastres. Les seuls êtres humains qui pourraient impunément exploiter les ruisseaux du Volador, parce qu’ils sont protégés par une carapace de lèpre, les habitants du Dibulla et des villages voisins, sont justement les seuls qui ne tiennent point à l’accroissement de leurs richesses.