Editor’s note: This article is a humor column.
The University of Virginia sits nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, with a sprawling ecosystem of red brick, white columns and approximately 18,000 organisms collectively known as the Hoos. Each fall, a new migration of first-years floods the habitat, disrupting the humble abode known as Grounds. With each new batch of first-years, new species emerge. Others remain perennial — returning season after season, unchanged, undeterred, as much a fixture of the habitat as the Rotunda itself. Some researchers credit evolution or survival of the fittest for some species of Hoo, while others are a mere mystery. Below are some key findings detailing this ever-evolving habitat. Even the most seasoned researchers could not have anticipated what was discovered.
Species number one — the Shannon dweller
Binomen — Saxbys dependus, Grubhub addictus
The Shannon dweller arrives early. Arriving early allows the specimen to claim a six-person study table, equating enough time to spread their belongings across the full surface before anyone else can. A laptop, a second laptop, noise cancelling headphones, a water bottle, a tote bag and a jacket are draped over a chair. The table has been claimed and the species makes it clear to its surrounding creatures that this table is theirs.
Once settled, the specimen enters the pre-study preparation phase — opening 17 browser tabs, playing all the NYT games and spending approximately two hours on Grubhub deliberating nearly identical Saxbys orders before selecting the one they always get. Researchers then observed the specimen staring blankly at a Canvas homepage screen for 11 uninterrupted minutes before opening Instagram Reels. They remain on Reels for the better part of the afternoon. Each time the laptop screen dims, the specimen extends one finger with lightning speed to touch the trackpad without breaking eye contact with their phone.
By evening, they will post to their private story that they grinded at Shannon for seven hours straight. This is, in the slightest sense, true. If you consider Reels grinding, that is.
Species number two — the Yakarma maxxer
Binomen — Anonymus prestigius, Upvotus desperatus
Researchers trace the awakening of the Yakarma maxxer to a single afternoon during a false bomb threat occurring in Shannon Library. One specimen types their first Yik Yak post, theorizing that the bomb-like sounds are merely a larger specimen migrating through the third floor. The post receives 1,400 upvotes within the hour. A star is born.
What followed is less a hobby and more a moral responsibility, one researchers describe as an unscientific “love for the game.” The specimen has documented everything from a caterpillar discovered in an O-Hill salad to their 35th post of “hoos up rn devious emoji.” They also make sure to write no fewer than four posts a day during this rare cycle researchers have coined as “RushYak.”
The maxxer’s Yakarma score is 42,000. Researchers observe the specimen bringing this up in every interaction among fellow creatures without fail.
Species number three — the omnipresent Hoo
Binomen — Everywhericus simulatneousli, Alwaes therus
Researchers are not entirely sure when the first sighting occurs. A passing glance on McCormick Road, a brief moment of accidental eye contact is forgotten almost immediately. It is the second sighting that gives researchers a reason to pause and study the specimen further.
The omnipresent Hoo is in front of you in the Bodo’s line on a Tuesday morning. Sitting across from you at Shannon that afternoon. On your run through Grounds. In the pew directly in front of you at Sunday Mass. At the airport, already through security, on the same flight to your hometown.
You have never spoken to this person and don’t know their name nor their major. The omnipresent Hoo has begun to nod when they see you now. You nod back. Researchers find it profoundly moving.
Species number four — the LinkedIn warrior
Binomen — Thrilld toannounceus, Passionatus networcus
While other species communicate in the standard dialect of Grounds, the LinkedIn warrior speaks in an entirely different tongue. This new emerging language is characterized by phrases such as “incredibly humbled,” “thrilled to announce” and “excited to leverage this opportunity to drive meaningful impact.” The specimen also has identifiable physical features from a considerable distance. They are born in business casual. Reaching adulthood, they are, without exception, wearing a suit.
The specimen is also seen engaging in a solo headshot session beside the Rotunda during golden hours, striking some power poses. Researchers ponder if the specimen is attempting to scare off predators, or perhaps, performing a mating ritual. Later, the warrior is spotted handing out business cards in their ECON 2010 class. The specimen asks fellow creatures if they would be open to a coffee chat to discuss potential synergies. The recipients are all first-years. They do not know what synergies mean. Neither, researchers suspect, does the LinkedIn warrior. That has never slowed them down.
Species number five — the phantom roommate
Binomen — Nevah theirus, Instacartus nocturnalis
The phantom roommate is among the most elusive species on Grounds. Evidence of habitation is everywhere — a phone charger across the desk, a mini fridge stocked with items foreign to the area or DoorDash and Instacart bags meticulously stacked in the corner. The creature itself, however, is almost never directly observed.
Roommates report a similar experience across the board. The soft click of a door at 2 a.m. The eerie creak of the fridge opening in the dark. Upon waking up, nothing. Just a to-go cup that was not there when they fell asleep. DoorDash handles dinner, and Instacart handles everything else. At this point in time, the delivery driver knows the Phantom’s deepest desires and darkest secrets. The actual roommate is still learning how to pronounce their last name.
Researchers believe the specimen may be spotted at block party — a brief passing glance through a large crowd, clearly moving with a purpose. By the time researchers turn to confirm the sighting, the specimen is gone.
Once the semester draws to a close and the habitat prepares for its annual reset, researchers pack up their equipment and pencil in their final notes. Another migration comes each semester, but the ecosystem, as always, endures.
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