The birds Darwin didn't recognize.

In 1835, HMS Beagle spent five weeks in the Galápagos. Charles Darwin collected dozens of small brown birds there, and mostly misread them. He labeled some as wrens, some as blackbirds, some as grosbeaks. They looked like different kinds of birds, so he filed them as different kinds of birds, and he barely noted which island each came from.

The revelation happened two years later, at a desk in London. The ornithologist John Gould examined the whole collection at once and saw what Darwin, standing in the middle of it, had not: they were all finches. One ancestral species had spread across the islands and quietly become many, each with a beak shaped by what it fed on. Ground finches with nutcracker bills. Cactus finches with probing bills. Warbler finches with tweezers. Nobody had named them because nobody had read the whole collection together.

That reading changed how we understand life on Earth.

Your customer base has done the same thing.

A business is built for one buyer. Then the market gets hold of it, and the customer base quietly speciates: the same product, bought by three or four distinct groups, each for its own reason, each with its own language. The founder, like Darwin on the deck of the Beagle, is too close to see it. The evidence sits in the review corpus the way the specimens sat in Darwin's crates: collected, public, and unread as a whole.

FINCH is the desk in London. We read every review individually, group purchases by the situation that caused them, and name the markets that have been feeding on your product all along. Each one comes with counted evidence and your customers' verbatim words, the beak shapes that prove the species is real.

It's also why we call our reports specimens. Each published report is one collected example of the same finding: a business that thought it had one market, shown the several it actually has.