Can animals predict the weather?

Next Tuesday, February 2, the groundhog known as Punxsutawney Phil, of the Pennsylvania town of the same name, will emerge from his burrow at Gobbler’s Knob, to the delight of onlookers and morning-TV viewers.

If it’s sunny, Phil will see his shadow, meaning winter will linger for another six weeks. If it’s cloudy, Phil won’t see his shadow, and that, for some reason, portends an early spring.

This is the kind of paradox that makes my head hurt. How come more sunshine means more winter? If I stepped outside my burrow today and saw the sun—not likely, given our recent frigid weather—I’d say, along with the poet Robert Herrick, “Come forth, like the springtime, fresh and green.” Perhaps I wouldn’t put it quite as pithily, but that’s what I’d mean.

Though the forecasting formula of Groundhog Day is a head-scratcher, who doesn’t enjoy the only national holiday named for a rodent, in which otherwise sane people predict the seasons by pulling said rodent out of a tree stump?

Groundhog Day actually is an offshoot of Candlemas, first observed in the U.S. by 18th century German settlers. Candlemas falls 40 days after Christmas, at precisely the mid-point of winter, and marks both the purification of the Virgin Mary and the presentation of Christ in the temple. How that solemn celebration ever evolved into the goofiness of Groundhog Day is a mystery, but some accounts say the “shadow” of the hibernating groundhog actually represents its soul. And the sight of one’s soul, with its many flaws and frailties, is probably enough to send anyone scurrying back to an underground maze.

For millennia, humans have looked to animals, insects, and even plants to help them anticipate and prepare for the weather. Some of these signs have been dismissed as folklore. But folkloric beliefs, those “old wives’ tales,” are based on centuries of at-hand observations by people for whom the weather is a critical indicator of abundance and even survival—on land and at sea.

The woolly bear caterpillar, for example, supposedly can predict the severity of winter through the thickness of its stripes. Dogs reportedly can sense approaching storms, and will seek shelter beforehand as a result. Herds of cattle will lie down together before it rains. Elephants and other wild animals are said to flee to safety before the onset of an earthquake or tsunami. Why?

According to the Discovery Channel, while animals may not have a sixth sense, they may simply utilize more of the five senses we all share. That’s not an indictment of we naked apes; in many cases, animals are better equipped by nature to register and interpret nature’s signs and signals. They are variously blessed with better hearing (dogs, birds, cows and elephants, among many others); better night vision (cats, coyotes, foxes, owls); and keener senses of smell (dogs again, which can be trained to sniff out bombs, track lost children, unearth human remains, and even, according to recent studies, detect malignancies). Some animals are also tuned in to the subtle vibrations in the earth and the air that indicate the onset of a storm, say, or an earthquake.

While science is not conclusive about the ability of animals to forecast the weather, either short-term or long-term, scientists do seem to agree that an old aphorism about seagulls may have some merit. As the saying goes, “Seagull, seagull, sit on the sand. It's a sign of a rain when you are at hand.”

Seagulls, like many other species of birds, are acutely aware of barometric changes, and will huddle on the sand if they feel the pressure drop (the lowering of pressure or thinning of air density could also make it harder to fly). The pesky birds are plentiful around here, so test theory out the next time rain’s on the way.

As for Punxsutawney Phil and his counterparts (Balzac Billy and Wiarton Willy in Canada, General Beauregard Lee in Georgia, and Staten Island Chuck in New York) they can’t really tell us much about the coming of spring, says Stam Zervanos, professor of biology at Penn State.

Groundhogs, says Zervanos, have a regular hibernation pattern that begins and ends “around February 4,” every year, just after Groundhog Day. We’re just waking Phil a couple of days early. No wonder he always looks so grumpy.