ABSTRACT
About the first question visitors ask, when they walk into our lab and observe a recording of orca acoustics in progress, then notice the pile of tapes, growing daily, that represents decades of such effort, is: ‘What are they saying?’. Our answer amounts to ‘don't have a clue’, though this is usually followed by references to what we do know, or think we understand, i.e. that orcas use echolocation when they are hunting, that we can tell when they are excited and when they are resting, and when they are engaged in the ordinary social exchanges that keep them in touch with one another over considerable distances in the ocean. But beyond that, our understanding lies in a murky grey mist, as if we're adrift in fog on a flat ocean, barely seeing beyond our bow, and without even the hint of a wake to tell us in which direction we should go.
