Have you ever heard of a pig spleen being able to predict the weather? You can call it folklore - but what do you call it when it works?

Legendary forecaster Gus Wickstrom of Tompkins, Saskatchewan

gus forecast pig spleen
Gus, a man of Swedish descent who lived in this prairie province all of his life, was a weather forecaster. He predicted weather conditions six months in advance, yet his technology required no fancy equipment, no high-tech razzle-dazzle. All Gus needed was a barn and a farmhand or two standing by. . .because he predicted the weather by looking at a pig spleen.

Every 6 months or so, Gus slaughtered a pig, and in the frugal way of farm families, he found a way to use everything but the squeal, as they say. Gus closely scrutinized the spleen, using a method he learned from his father and Harold Pearson, a neighbor.

Gus's method

(See image to the right.) Gus divided the spleen into six areas, each representing 1 month. The top of the spleen (closest to the pig's head) shows the current month. The bottom indicates the end of the upcoming six-month period. Where the spleen thickens, a change in the weather is indicated, usually pointing to a cold spell. Where there's a pronounced bulge, expect even more inclement weather. Gus could even read wind and rain into the variations in the spleen.

Meet Seventy-two-year-old Joe King, in Wynyard, Saskatchewan.

Joe also learned pig-spleen weather predicting from his father. But Joe is adamant that the pig must be slaughtered in the fall or early winter; a spring spleen, says Joe, is not nearly as accurate. His method predicts only temperature, not precipitation. In the fall of 1997, Joe slaughtered his pig and pulled out a spleen that was even all the way through. This, he says, was one of the first indications that Saskatchewan would experience an even-tempered winter. Never mind that meteorologists were hysterical about the phenomenon called El Niño; or that onion skins and corn husks were thick. Joe predicted a mild winter with just a few cold days, and his temperature predictions were right on the money.

I checked with a few animal scientists, whose reactions were of disbelief. After all, said the experts, a spleen is a vascular, ductless organ that stores blood, destroys worn-out red blood cells, forms lymphocytes, and so on. "A spleen," I was reminded, "is a useful organ that has bodily functions. It has nothing to do with predicting the weather."

I found myself defending this form of weather prophesying, even though I know it's folklore. I too have farming in my blood, so I went to the one person I knew would have the answer - my father. "I recall," Dad said, going back to his upbringing on a farm near Goodeve, Saskatchewan, "that our Polish neighbors also looked at the spleen of a pig to forecast the weather. And I know it's something the Ukrainian families did as well."

Aha, I thought to myself. It's not just Gus and Joe - it's in many cultures, probably more than I'll ever know. Those who believe in pig spleen weather prognosticating have seen it work, and that's just the way it is.