A King as a Namesake

Illustration for the blog post: King Nisos of Megara with a purple lock of hair, eagle in background, and scroll titled 'The Legend'. Digital art by Heiko Nisius.

The Spectacular (and Almost True) Story Behind Our Name – The Legend of King Nisus

Anyone who has ever dabbled in genealogy knows that one secret wish. We pore over old church records, decipher illegible handwriting, and secretly hope for that one big find: a direct line to nobility, a connection to a historical figure, or at least a small castle forgotten somewhere in the mists of time.

Well, dear family, hold on tight. We didn’t find a castle, but if we generously overlook 3,000 years of history and ignore a few historical gaps, we found something much better: King Nisus of Megara.

Yes, you read that right. There is a connection – and it is dramatic, bloody, and in the end, even a little feathered. Here is the detailed story of our ancient “namesake”.

The Situation: A Truly “Hairy” Matter

We have to travel far back, right into the mythical age of Greece. Nisus ruled as King of the city of Megara, not far from Athens. He was considered a capable ruler, but his true power lay not in his army or his wealth, but in a rather unusual place: on his head.

Amidst his graying hair grew a single, bright purple lock. It was more than just an ancient fashion statement. An oracle had made a fateful prophecy:

“As long as this lock remains on your head, your city shall never fall.”

You can imagine how careful our King must have been when getting a haircut. Thanks to this hairstyle, Nisus was virtually invincible. As long as the “bad hair days” were kept at bay, Megara was safe.

The Drama: Love, Betrayal, and a Fatal Pair of Scissors

But as in any good Greek tragedy, disaster approached in the form of a man: King Minos of Crete. (Yes, the Minos with the labyrinth and the Minotaur) . Minos wanted to conquer Megara and besieged the city.

King Nisus had a daughter named Scylla. And this is where the classic teenage drama began—the kind that would drive any modern family therapist to madness. From the high city walls, Scylla watched the battles. Her eyes fell upon the enemy leader, Minos, parading below in his shining armor.

Instead of cheering for her father, she fell madly in love with the enemy. To win the heart of the Cretan King, she hatched a plan that could hardly be surpassed in drama: She decided to gift him the victory.

In the dark of night, she sneaked into her father Nisus’s bedchamber. While he slept, she pulled out a pair of scissors and – snip – cut off the magical purple lock.

The Bitter End and the Moral of the Story

The plan worked – at least partially. The next morning, the city of Megara fell as the magical protection was broken. Scylla ran triumphantly to Minos with the severed lock, fully expecting to celebrate a royal wedding.

But she had made a miscalculation. Minos turned out to be a man of principles, surprisingly. He was horrified by this betrayal of a father and pushed her away in disgust:

“Be gone, you disgrace to the gods! My world, Crete, shall never be trodden by you.”

Minos set sail and left. Scylla, now completely desperate and crazed with unrequited love, jumped into the water and clung to the stern of his ship.

The Transformation: Why We Fly Today

Exactly at this dramatic moment, the gods intervened, as the poet Ovid describes in his famous Metamorphoses. King Nisus, who had died due to his daughter’s betrayal, was not sent to the Underworld.

Instead, the gods transformed him into a Sea Eagle (often translated as an Osprey or Sparrowhawk in later texts and biological nomenclature). With new plumage and sharp talons, he immediately swooped down on the traitor still hanging from the ship’s stern.

Scylla let go in terror and was also transformed – into a small bird named Ciris. And so the story ends not with death, but with an eternal chase: To this day, the eagle Nisus hunts the small bird Scylla across the seas. Revenge, it seems, is a dish best served with feathers.

Illustration of the Greek legend: King Nisos (as a powerful sea eagle) chases his daughter Scylla, who is transforming into a white sea bird at the edge of a boat. Digital Art by Heiko Nisius.
Dramatic finale of the legend: King Nisus, as a sea eagle, pursues the treacherous Scylla as her transformation into a bird begins.

What Does This Have to Do With Us?

You might be asking: What does a 3,000-year-old legend have to do with us? Even if we can’t draw a seamless family tree all the way back to Megara (unfortunately, church records from the Bronze Age are a bit patchy), we do have a lasting connection.

The famous Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus (Carl von Linné) knew this legend well. When he scientifically classified the European Sparrowhawk, he remembered our King and gave the bird the name in his honor:

Accipiter nisus

So, the next time you are sitting in the garden and see a bird of prey hunting particularly stubbornly and perhaps a bit grimly: Greet him kindly. It could be a distant “relative” who is still in a bad mood after millennia because of a botched haircut.


Further Reading


Sources

For those who want to dive deeper into the story (or brush up on their Latin):

  • The German Classic: Gustav Schwab, Sagen des klassischen Altertums (Legends of Classical Antiquity). (A special tip: Check your bookshelves. Many of us in the family might still have this classic from our grandparents – just like I received my copy from my grandma when I was in elementary school. It’s how ancient legends connect with our own history.)
  • The Original: Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book VIII. (The source of the detailed transformation story) . * The Namesake: Carl Linnaeus, Systema Naturae (First description of the Accipiter nisus). * The Poetry: Virgil, Georgics, Book I.
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