from the quote archives
Mr. Raney named the porpoises—Sister Woman, and Renford, and Lamar, and St. Elmo—and could recognize them, and call each by its name, even at night, six feet long some of them, with a million sharp teeth and a naughty grin. Often when he floated past in the boat and watched their playful wheeling, in and out among the cypress knees, he called out to them, “Lamar, we are all alone in the world.” Or “Renford, cork is an export of India!”
The echoes of his voice across the wide water of the bayou was like a heartbreaking song, a music of the swamp.
Hydro said, one time, many times, “Do they understand what you tell them?”
Mr. Raney said, each time. “Nobody knows.”
Lewis Nordan, Music of the Swamp