Tibbet spoke up, agreeing with the woman, his voice tight. Throughout the morning, his reluctance to continue the procedures had increased. The intention had been some exploration of the brain’s anatomy, to try stimulating a few different areas. The subjects were not supposed to die.

So Blum nodded, and the dolphin’s restraint tank was wheeled back to the pool and the dolphin released.

As the animal slid into the pool, she (Nellie) gave a loud crescendo/decrescendo squeak. At the sound, the two dolphins remaining in the tank instantly banked and shot over, like this was a trick they’d been training for years to do. Stopping under her, one on either side, they shouldered her weight to bring her to the surface, so her blowhole was above the waves. An adept fireman’s carry, performed without hands. Underneath her, the two dolphins basically trod water, pushing upward. Holding her up this way, it took work to get their own blowholes high enough to breathe. Still, they didn’t move from their positions, both of them keeping her there for over twenty minutes—long after it was clear Nellie was dead.

Blum watched all this. He pulled a chair over to sit by the side of the pool and absorb every detail. Once the dolphins finally let go of the body, it bobbed and rolled in the water. It was difficult to see exactly what the other two were doing, but he could hear a fast clicking as they rubbed themselves against the body.

Blum sat back now, thinking about that strange crescendo/decrescendo sound the dying dolphin had made and the dolphins’ reaction to it.

There was a bird feeder in his backyard, which his home-office window faced. Each morning he saw his wife, Babs, fill the feeder while the birds flocked to it. He referred to it as a “hawk-feeder,” since it congregated fluffy snacks for the local redtail which every few days would dive from above, hitting one of the birds like a fist. Occasionally the predator was the neighbor’s cat instead, pouncing from behind a bush.

Just before either type of predator struck, the blue jays would scream a warning, a specific type of piercing cry, at which the other birds scattered in every direction, most heading for cover in the nearest bush (the correct action to get away from a hawk), while a few flapped for the sky (the appropriate action in the case of a cat).

Clearly the blue jays’ scream communicated a warning that the other birds understood. However, from the difference in their reactions, it appeared the warning did not convey any specifics about the type of danger.

The sound Nellie made must have related more information than just a bellow for help. It appeared to have conveyed the type of the help she needed because both dolphins had instantly banked at the right angle to end up just beneath her, one on either side, the perfect cooperative action for her situation.

In front of Blum, one of the remaining dolphins came to the surface, not to breathe, but to stick its head out of the water, 10 feet away, bobbing there. It seemed to be looking at the humans, looking specifically at Blum. Staring at him with its dark eyes. From its size, it was probably a male, perhaps the offspring or mate of Nellie.