Gotta pronounce that with a hard "g", by the way. Loss Angle-esz. It's a "Barton Fink" thing.
Point being, there is some kind of creature that lives in the mudflats at the confluence of the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers, a creature that even the Iroquois feared but had no name for. Or at least not a name we bothered to ask them for. But if they had had one, it would translate as "Some kind of bug in the mud that eats your ankles while you're pushing your canoe into deeper water and leaves gigantic welts that itch for days." Benadryl doesn't even touch the itch. I hate nature.
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