Waiting for Sheila's Brush? Here's some of N.L.'s other weather lore

Many Newfoundlanders will be hoping that the snow headed our way this evening is Sheila's Brush — the last big storm of winter — which, according to legend, always falls shortly after St. Patrick's Day.

Sheila's Brush is one of the few survivors of an enormous body of weather lore that once existed in the province.

For people who lived off the land and the sea, advance knowledge of the weather could mean the difference not only between poverty and prosperity, but between life and death. Heavy rain could ruin a catch of fish set out to dry, a long winter could deplete food stores, and a storm could sink a ship with all hands.

So, before meteorologists, weather apps, and Environment Canada's seven-day forecast, our ancestors relied on rhymes, proverbs and folk wisdom passed down through the generations to predict the weather.

Here's a taste of that forgotten lore.

Historically, Newfoundland and Labrador's rural residents lived closely with animals, both wild and domestic, and they looked to the behaviour of their non-human neighbours for a hint of what weather might be on the horizon.

If the goats hid under the fish flakes, the bees kept to their hives, or the spiders abandoned their webs, it was a sure sign of rain. The creatures were seeking shelter from a coming downpour.

At sea, fish could signal changes in the weather, too. Schools of herring rushing to the beach presaged wind, while pebbles in the stomachs of freshly caught codfish portended a storm.

Overhead, even the flight pattern of the gulls told a story, as captured in this little ditty:

Seabirds keeping near the land

Tell a storm is near at hand,

But flying seabirds out of sight,

You may stay and fish all night.

The common housecat was perhaps the most versatile meteorologist of them all. Practically every feline behaviour, it seems, could be interpreted as a forecast.