Regional dialects: not just for humans

A few weeks back, I saw the New York Times' interactive graphic regarding regionality in vocabulary choices. As someone who has lived in the northeast all but two years of her life, I wasn't surprised to find that my test results showed a combination of Yonkers, Springfield, Worcester (or as we say here, Wustah), Boston, and Providence.

See? Right at home.

The quiz included questions including how to pronounce caramel (car-mel), what to call long sandwiches (grinders), and whether Mary/marry/merry rhyme (they do). I get poked fun at at school because of my odd vocab choices, but I enjoy listening for other accents and dialects because of the subtle differences that separation can cause; it's allopatric speciation for your speech, and I'm already a sucker for bio. My lab partner freshman year was from north of Syracuse and accentuated the A in words so much that I became his "leab" partner, and there's a running joke around campus that Long Islanders don't know that dog (dawg) and frog (frahg) rhyme.

And then there are international accents. I have friends from Australia and New Zealand, and I had to try so hard not to squee over their accents when we first met; the latter also sent me the Kiwi alphabet and how to pronounce various words.

What I found out this week was that this isn't unique to humans. I know animals can understand different languages (how else would anyone be able to train their dogs?), but according to the illustrious Sir Patrick Stewart, animals such as cows have their own unique dialects. This is one of those things where I can't tell if the topic is a serious inquiry or a huge joke, but it's entertaining nonetheless to hear him moo in various regional dialects of the UK and the US.

If only people here wouldn't question my Connecticut residency because I actually pronounce my Rs.