Geomythology and Weather Lore (Part 1)

While all extreme weather conditions are, well, extreme, less-than-modern ships and a lack of satellite navigation made sea storms some of the most common and treacherous natural phenomena of the ancient world. Enough so that they appear in some of the world’s most famous stories, such as Homer’s Odyssey, in which the titular Greek war hero Odysseus offends the sea god, Poseidon, by besting (and boasting about said besting) his offspring, the Cyclopes Polyphemus. Polyphemus’s prayers of retribution to his father incite Poseidon’s divine wrath, who personally makes Odysseus’s journey home to Ithaca extremely perilous by sending violent sea storms (as well as monsters and many other obstacles) his way. One famous example of this is when Odysseus finally escapes his seven-year imprisonment on the island of Ogygia on a raft (long story), only for Poseidon to destroy it with a great wave or a sea storm, forcing him to swim (with Athena’s help) for days until reaching the shores of Phaeacia (Poseidon is kind of a jerk).

While Poseidon was the god of the sea and sea-related storms, he also embodied another type of natural disaster–earthquakes! According to Greco-Roman mythology, as the mighty “Earth-Shaker,” Poseidon, when angered, generated earthquakes by plunging his trident into the ground.

In ancient Japan, storms, lightning, and thunder were attributed to several supernatural beings. One of the most prominent storm-makers was the kami (a divine being in Shinto faith) Raijin (雷神; “Thunder God”), also known as Kamowakeikazuchi-no-kami (Picken 239). Raijin is usually depicted as a grotesque, red-skinned, horned, demon-like figure with bellowing hair (Ashcroft and Benny 205-209). He is almost always surrounded by a ring of Taiko (太鼓) drums, which he plays to create thunder. Raijin is commonly in the company of his twin brother, Fūjin (風神; “Wind God”), an equally fearsome-looking, green-skinned kami of the wind. In irezumi (入れ墨; “inserting ink”), or traditional Japanese tattooing, it is common to pair Raijin and Fūjin together to form a balanced pair on the body (Ashcroft and Benny 205-209). Alongside his brother, Raijin frequently appears with the raijū (雷獣; “thunder beast”), a type of yōkai associated with storms, whose bodies are made or enveloped in lightning and whose cries sound like thunder.

Kublai Khan, ruler of the Mongol Empire and grandson of Genghis Khan, set his sights on Japan in the late 13th century, dispatching massive fleets to conquer it (Woodruff 91). He made two attempts to lay siege on Kyushu, Japan, sending armadas in November of 1274 and August of 1281, with the second invasion estimated to have been 1500–4400 vessels strong, containing 160,000–200,000 sailors and soldiers (Woodruff 91). Despite these impressive numbers, which “significantly outnumbered” Japan’s defenses, both of Kublai Khan’s invasions were unsuccessful (Woodruff 91). According to legend, his fleets were repelled and devastated by violent typhoons. Regarded as supernatural protectors of Japan’s nationhood, these typhoons became known as the kamikaze (神風; “divine wind”). While the divine source of the kamikaze is debated, many attribute the typhoons to the weather-working gods Raijin or Fūjin.

Natural disasters that double as divine acts are not limited to the ancient world, however. In November 1703, England and Wales were struck by an extratropical cyclone so severe that it became known as the Great Storm of 1703. Regarded as one of the worst storms in the recorded history of Great Britain, this week-long, hurricane-like storm reached wind speeds up to 120 MPH and generated intense storm surges, resulting in widespread devastation along the coast and inland (Wheeler 419). The catastrophic winds blasted bricks and wooden beams off buildings and hurled them through the air, and thousands of trees (at least 4,000 alone in the New Forest of Southern England) were felled (History.com Editors). The storm surge claimed 300 Royal Navy ships, including the entire Channel Fleet and its flagship, the Mary, as well as toppling the Eddystone Lighthouse near Plymouth. The surge traveled inland through the Thames River, where waves “six feet higher than ever before recorded near London” washed away over 5,000 homes along its banks (History.com Editors). The storm even affected royalty, with Queen Anne having to take shelter at St James’s Palace after the roof of Westminster Abbey was blown off. By the time the cyclone dissipated, approximately 10,000 to 30,000 people were lost. 

The severity of the Great Storm of 1703 was interpreted by the Church of England as divine punishment for sins committed by the nation. In Gideon Harvey’s The City Remembrancer (1769), he asserts that “the winds are a part of the works of God by nature, in which he has been pleased to communicate” (107). Simply calling it The Storm, Harvey claims that the awe-inspiring (or terror-inducing) accounts of the destruction left by the Great Storm would be otherwise unbelievable, unless one has “an affectionate sense of the unlimited power of the Almighty” (49). As an interpretation of God’s righteous anger, the Great Storm of 1703 became a common subject of sermons, enough so that annual “Storm sermons” were preached into the late 19th century (Brayne 205).

Fun Fact: Contemporary meteorologists equate the Great Storm of 1703 to a Category 2 hurricane on the Saffir–Simpson hurricane wind scale (SSHWS).

Tornadoes are one of the most eye-catching and dangerous forms of extreme weather, at least in North America. Quickly appearing, wreaking havoc, and then spinning away in the wakes of their devastation, these vortexes are still not fully understood by meteorologists. In fact, the process in which a storm produces a tornado– tornadogenesis— is cloaked in mystery, with the factors that differentiate tornadic supercells from nontornadic storms being mostly unknown (Coffer 1). Given this, it is not difficult to imagine why an abundance of superstition and weather lore surrounds tornadoes and their less-than-infamous cousins (i.e., waterspouts, dust devils, etc.).

Fun Fact: Most tornadoes in North America rotate counterclockwise. This is thanks to the Coriolis effect (wind deflection caused by the rotation of the Earth) (Coffer 130-132). Tragically, your toilet bowl is too small to be affected by the planet’s spinning and the Coriolis effect. The whole “flushing direction is different between hemispheres” is an urban myth.

Some of the oldest religious interpretations of tornadoes come from Native American tribes. For example, in the northern Great Plains, the Arikara Nation revere Whirlwind Woman (Huupirikúsu in Arikara), a tornado spirit who brings destruction, as well as spiritual gifts and visions. Legends vary on whether Whirlwind Woman has always been a storm spirit, or if she was once a human woman who was blown away by a tornado (Native Languages of the Americas). The Kiowa Nation (another Indigenous peoples of the Great Plains) have a legend in which the trickster figure and folk hero, Saynday (also known as Sendeh) comes upon a beautiful woman sitting atop a knoll (Mark). He begins to relentlessly pester her with marriage proposals. The woman responds with disinterest, explaining she is too restless to wed any man. Saynday stubbornly persists, and the woman seemingly relents, instructing Saynday to come hold onto her sleeves. As soon as he grabs onto her, the woman, revealing herself to be Whirlwind Woman, swirls into the air, hurling Saynday around as she spins him through forests, sharp briars, and a deep river. Saynday loses his grip and falls into the water, where he angrily rebukes the storm spirit. Whirlwind Women simply smiles at him from the riverbank before leaving him (Boyd 115).

In Shawnee and Lenape spiritual traditions, a similar spirit (whose gender varies) named Cyclone Person, known also as Kako-u’hthé, embodies tornadoes, with their long dark hair forming the tendril-like shapes of vortexes (Native Languages of the Americas). Even as a destructive spirit, Cyclone Person was not feared, especially by the Shawnee, who believe the spirit to be a friend to the tribe who would not intentionally harm them. Notably, across these Native American tribes and nations, both Whirlwind Woman and Cyclone Person are not demonized, but rather regarded as a violent but natural force.

Another tornado spirit is Storm-Maker Red Horse (Kiowa: Man-ka-ih), another spirit of the Kiowa Nation. N. Scott Momaday, a Pulitzer Prize winning Kiowa author, writes about this spirit in his folkloric and poetic memoir, The Way to Rainy Mountain, which also discusses the spiritual beliefs and history of his Kiowa ancestors. The Man-ka-ih is described as having the head of a horse and the scaly tail of a large fish, and lightning spews from its mouth. Its sinuous tail lashes and whips the air, stirring up the warm winds of a tornado (Momaday XIV). As the legend goes, Storm-Maker Red Horse came into being when the Kiowa molded a horse out of clay. However, after the horse was created, it began to writhe and spin, at first slowly, then with incredibly speed (Momaday XIV). This “terrible, terrible thing” grew larger and larger, and began to blow everything about, uprooting trees and even sweeping the buffalo into the sky. The Kiowa fled from Storm-Maker Red Horse, pleading for it to stop. Eventually, the spirit listened and the tempest calmed. Ever since, it’s said that the Kiowa do not fear tornados, as it is the Man-ka-ih spirit at work. When the sky blackens and storm clouds gather, the Kiowa simply tell Storm-Maker Red Horse, “Pass over me.” The spirit, which understands them still, is said to listen.

American tall tales feature the famous Old West folk hero, outlaw, and tornado-wrangler, Pecos Bill. Regarded as the “tamer of the wild west,” Pecos Bill served as a mythical cowboy, whose deeds included inventing the six-shooter, teaching cowboys how to rob trains, and digging the Rio Grande into existence, which saved him the trip of going all the way to the Gulf of Mexico to retrieve water for his cattle (Fee and Webb 767). His arguably most famous superhuman feat was riding a cyclone without a saddle (the saddle seems like the least important factor here). In any case, ole Pecos Bill was said to have ridden an Oklahoma tornado across three states one-handed, all the while rolling a cigarette with his other hand (Fee and Webb 767). In true tall-tale fashion, this act led to the formation of some notable landmarks. The rains from Pecos’s tamed twister washed out enough land to create the Grand Canyon. The tornado eventually spun away from under Pecos, safety returning him to the ground– the place where he landed became Death Valley.

While Pecos Bill looms large in American cultural memory, his authenticity as a true, folkloric being is commonly challenged. This is likely due to Pecos Bill first appearing in the published works of Edward O’Reilly, such as The Saga of Pecos Bill, published in 1923. While O’Reilly claimed that Pecos Bill tales had been told for generations by frontiersmen, and that he had collected his stories from “cowboys sitting around the chuck wagon,” this is not widely believed to be true (Fee and Webb 767). While a Pecos-Bill-like figure may have appeared in oral traditions in the Southwest during the American westward expansion, there is no concrete evidence of this in the region’s folklore (Fee and Webb 767-768). This makes Pecos Bill an excellent example of “fakelore,” or contemporary, invented characters meant to appear as genuine folkloric figures in order to increase market value (i.e. selling books like The Saga of Pecos Bill).

Nautical folklore often involved weather, given the often-precarious work environment of sailors. Notably, nautical folklore draws upon many cultural backgrounds, mythologies, and religions, likely stemming from diversity in crewmen and their exposure to different parts of the world. For example, a common nautical myth involved sympathetic magic (also called imitative magic), in which sailors purchased thrice-knotted cords from witches, who were believed to bind the wind into the knots. Untying the first knot bestows a fair wind, the second, a storm, and loosening the third unleashes a hurricane (Steele). However, alongside using witchcraft to manipulate the weather, sailors wore medallions of Saint Christopher, a patron saint of mariners and travelers, for protection on their voyages. In fact, losing one’s medallion was believed to incite disaster, as it offended Saint Christopher, and only ardent prayer could assuage him (Steele).

The sea, and sea-related weather, also became associated with various myths. For example, the ocean’s swelling was sometimes attributed to a giant, leagues-long sea dragon, who rested upon the seabed. The tides were caused by the swishing of its tail, tsunamis by its rising to the surface, and typhoons by the flapping of its wings when it took to the skies (Steele). Another legend detailed the Great Norwegian Maelstrom, also known as the Moskstraumen, which was believed by circulate the world’s oceans by directing water down into a subterranean channel, through the center of the earth, and out to the other side of the planet, which was believed to bring balance to the sea (Steele). Of course, this is not even a little bit accurate. While the Moskstraumen is a real tidal whirlpool system located off the coast of the Lofoten archipelago in Norway and is one of the strongest tidal whirlpools in the world, it is sadly not a giant hollow earth drainpipe.

Fun Fact: The Moskstraumen inspired Edgar Allan Poe to write his 1841 short story “A Descent into the Maelström” (Poe 62).

According to nautical folklore, waterspouts, the watery cousin of the tornado, were said to form when a great sea dragon dipped its head into the ocean to drink (Steele). In like manner, various (not exactly scientific) methods were purported to disrupt or otherwise repel these vexing vortexes. Some of these included firing a cannonball into the funnel or tossing vinegar into it; either action was said to frighten the dragon away (Silliman 266). Another option involved magicking the waterspout away with ritual and prayer. This was achieved by thrusting a black-handled knife into the wood of the mast, and repeating prayers and the sign of the cross (Steele). As a preemptive measure– in the event the dragon was spotted from afar and had not yet begun slurping up the sea– sailors could raise their swords in the form of the cross and clash the blades together. Other variations of this tactic do not involve the invoking of the Christian cross and instead emphasizes the need for noise (i.e. through shouting and hammering tables). Either way, some good old-fashioned ruckus (and maybe some cross imagery) made for good sea dragon deterrent.

Rain is undoubtedly one of the most cherished forms of weather, and in the ancient world, where successful harvests determined survival of mass populations, it was utterly vital. Thus, it is not surprising that rain was often attributed to spirits and gods associated with life-giving and fertility. Further, since many natural phenomena (like the water cycle) were not entirely understood, people looked to the natural world to explain and predict the comings, goings, and absences of rain. Even in the early 18th century, animal observations were used to predict rainfall. And in some ways, this method wasn’t entirely inaccurate! While animal behavior cannot be used for long-term weather forecasts, many animals possess incredibly heightened survival mechanisms, such as sensitivity to atmospheric pressure (which usually drops before a storm), that allow them to react to the environmental stimuli of immediate weather changes.

For example, frogs are quite sensitive to shifts in humidity and will actively croak louder and more frequently before it rains (Whitmore). An uptick in moisture makes for ideal mating conditions in many frog species, thus frog calls abound when rain is near (Whitmore). In like manner, birds can sense atmospheric shifts in pressure humans cannot; they will change their flight and migration patterns, such as flocking together or lowering to avoid updrafts (Murray). Temperature changes also affect insects, like bees, which will retreat to their hives before heavy rain or storms, and only venture back out when atmospheric pressure restabilizes (Whitmore).

Fun Quote: Et Veterem in limo Ranæ cecinere querelam (“The Frogs renew the Croaks of their loquacious Race”) (Pointer 36).

In Japan, it is common for children to craft teru teru bōzu, small, ghost-like anti-rain charms made of tissue paper (often with ribbon). Usually hung outside on porches or around windows, these little smiling dolls are meant to ward off rain and ensure sunny weather the following day (Salupen). Inversely, turning the teru teru bōzu upside down or making it out of black paper/cloth makes it a rain-making charm that invites rain the next day (Miyata 14)! Teru teru bōzu dolls are quite common during the rainy season (梅雨; “tsuyu”) and even make special appearances as decorations during outdoor festivals and harvest ceremonies (Kazemi). According to tradition, a plain-faced teru teru bōzu is made and hung near a window or outside. If the doll fulfills its promise and the following day is sunny, you can give it a smiley face as an act of appreciation (Kazemi).

There are multiple legends associated with the teru teru bōzu. One is the hiyoribō (日和坊; “weather priest”), a mountain yōkai (spirit) originating in Ibaraki Prefecture, Honshu (Meyer). The hiyoribō appears as a bald, monk-like spirit that can summon the sun and conjure fair weather. Uniquely, the hiyoribō can only be seen on sunny days, as it hides during rainy or bad weather (Meyer). Additionally, teru teru bōzu can be traced back to two not-so-cheery myths. One, originating from the Heian period (794 to 1185), tells of a young girl with a broom who was sacrificed to end an unrelenting rainstorm, in hopes that her spirit would use the broom to sweep away the rain clouds from the heavens (Kazemi). Another legend from feudal-era Japan tells of a bald “good weather monk” and a feudal lord. The monk promised he could bring good weather to a farming village afflicted by constant rain, but when the rain did not subside, the feudal lord had the poor monk decapitated, swathed his head in white cloth, and hung it as a rain deterrent (Kazemi, Salupen). (Please don’t decapitate your teru teru bōzu if they don’t work right away; they are trying their best!)

Important Terms (!): While Katsina (plural form, katsinam) and kachina are similar words, they carry very drastic meanings. They are not interchangeable. The Hopi use the term kachina to denote masked/painted impersonations of their spirits, while Katsina (which should be capitalized) refers to the natural and ancestral spirit beings these objects embody (Olmstead). Katsina also can refer to the clouds, which the Hopi believe are a form spirits can take, as well as the dead. Kachina tihu refers specifically to wooden dolls or effigies of the Katsinam spirits.

Meanwhile, another term not used here but good to keep in mind: Kachina tihu that are made to be sold are called katsintihu (plural form, katsintithu) (Lam Museum). It appears that katsintithu do not embody the same spiritual energy as the Kachina tihu used within Hopi communities for spiritual usage.

While some Katsinam are frightening and bogeyman-like, the majority are altruistic clan ancestors or natural forces, which seek to safeguard, enlighten, and guide humanity (Peabody Museum; Lam Museum). As messengers, the Katsinam act as envoys between the gods and humanity, and in exchange of offerings and prayer, bless the Hopi with abundant crops, spiritual knowledge, fertility, health, and rain. When it is time for these spirit beings to leave, they carry the Hopi’s gifts to the gods and return to the high, snow-covered summits of San Francisco Peaks, known to the Hopi as Nuvatukaua’ovi (Lam Museum), located near Flagstaff, Arizona. In Hopi funerary tradition, many hope to become Katsinam when they die, linking these spirits not only with weather and agriculture, but with the transmigration of the soul and the afterlife. As a member of the Katsinam, the deceased can join their ancestral spirits in the San Francisco Peaks and visit with the living.

After journeying down the mountains as clouds, these spirits manifest in our world through the bodies of ceremonial Katsinam dancers. These dancers (traditionally only Hopi men) don ritualistic masks and attire in order to embody specific spirits. There are many ceremonies that occur during Katsina Season, which begins at the winter solstice. During Kyaamuya (December), the winter solstice ceremony, a chief Katsina, Soyalkatsina, spirit arrives on the last day to open the kivas, which are large, rounded, underground chambers used for Katsina ceremonies and spiritual worship.

One of the greatest gifts bestowed by Katsinam spirits is rain. Pueblo villages, nestled among the arid mesas and parched deserts of northeastern Arizona, heavily reply upon rainfall for bountiful harvests (Peabody Museum). The Katsinam are believed to preside over life-giving waters and are able to carry or call water from the clouds (which are themselves regarded as spiritual beings). While most (if not all) katsinam are considering rainmakers, some are more outwardly identified with rain and water. A common visual motif to represent rain is the tableta— a terraced tablet-shaped mask, usually topped or adorned with semicircular hoops or arcs that represent rain clouds (Lam Museum). For example, Humis, Turkwinu, Turkwinu Mana, Buli Mana, and Tiwenu all are Katsinam who possess terraced tableta masks. Some, like Turkwinu and Eototo, carry water gourds, sometimes filled from the waters of a sacred spring (Fewkes 76). Rain cloud imagery also frequently appears on Katsinam spiritual garments, such as on their kilts– both Kowako, a Katsina associated with chickens, and Turkwinu wear a ceremonial white kilt embroidered with a green border decorated with rain cloud symbols (Fewkes 80-105). As rainfall is intrinsically connected with agricultural propagation, crop imagery, such as corn, squashes, gourds, and sunflowers also mark many Katsinam spirits as nurturers of Hopi farmland.

Meteorological study has mustered up some plausible scientific hypothesizes on the causes of blood rain, or more aptly described as red-colored rain. A few of these working theories includes discoloration caused by the presence of aerial spores from Trentepohlia annulata (a European species of green microalgae), red mineral dust from soil and desert sand combining with rain in the atmosphere, volcanic activity, and even reddish aurorae (Rajgopal 2). Blood rain, probably one of the most infamous of supernatural weather, has a long history of foretelling doom or bad tidings. As a prodigious or divine omen, many supposed instances of blood rain have been recorded. Plutarch claimed blood rain fell in Rome during the reign of its legendary founder, Romulus (Stothers 87). According to John Gadbury’s Miraculum Signum Coeleste, Rome was hit with another blood rain between the years 21-23 AD, which, as a bad omen, portended the burning of Theatre of Pompey in 21 AD, the poisoning of Drusus Julius Caesar in 23 AD, and the execution of Sejanus in 31 AD. Blood rains also occurred in Rome in 47-48, 1081, and 1337 AD (Gadbury 114-124).

Other accounts of blood rain occur in the Miraculum Signum Coeleste, including an instance in France in 541 or 582 AD described as an “Abundance of blood fell out of the Clouds upon mens Garments” (Gadbury 94). Gregory of Tours (538-594) describes this event in all its gory details, explaining that “In the territory of Paris there rained real blood from the clouds, falling upon the garments of many men, who were so stained and spotted that they stripped themselves of their own clothing in horror. This portent was seen in three places within the territory of that city. In the territory of Senlis, a certain man, rising in the morning, found his house all spattered with blood within” (Sarton 96). Like most blood rains, death(s) struck alongside this meteorological event. If we are going by 541, this is the year Saint Remigius died, as well as the beginning of the plague of Justinian. Further, 582 saw the death of Tiberius II Constantine and a Persian invasion of the Byzantine Empire. The Miraculum Signum Coeleste also mentions blood rains occurring in Germany in 89-90, Italy in 350, Tolosa in 434, Peidmont in 529, “Lumbardie (Lombardy) in 570, Naples in 639, France again in 778, Britain in 786, Holland in 808, and Italy (for three days and three nights) in 871 (77-107). A rain blood accompanied by “Bloody clouds” and “strange lightning” occurred at an undisclosed location in 1118 AD (117).

Fun Fact: A related(?) phenomenon of a “great and bloody Snow” occurred in 866, which froze the “gulph of the Adriatick Sea, where Venice stands” (AKA the Gulf of Venice) (106). Hmm, yuck.

The raining of animals, like blood rains, is not entirely understood by the scientific community. Some theories point to tornadoes, waterspouts, and whirlwinds, with the vortexes sucking up critters from the ground and bodies of water and carrying their unwilling passengers far away, sometimes even for several miles (Green). When these storms dissipate, whatever they picked up– debris, water, small creatures— will then fall back to earth from the clouds, mimicking rainfall. Another theory claims fish rain could stem from birds accidentally dropping fish that they have caught from nearby bodies of water onto land as they over (Mauhay-Moore).

Humanity has long been puzzled by animal rains, with some of the earliest recordings attributed to Pliny the Elder, a Roman naturalist and author, chronicling storms of frogs and fish in 77 AD (Green). In addition, in the Miraculum Signum Coeleste, a rain of frogs was documented in Constantinople (Gadbury 78). Some scientists even propose a frog rain via vortex was the basis of the second Plague of Egypt, found in Christianity’s Book of Exodus– which was a rain (and subsequential infestation) of frogs (Green). In any case, creatures falling from the sky continues to occur– anchovies rained down on San Francisco in 2022 (Mauhay-Moore).

Other, more supernatural or prodigious rains have also been chronicled throughout history– some being far stranger than small animals. In Gadbury’s Miraculum Signum Coeleste, he details wool mixed with rain falling from the clouds somewhere in 364, heavy stones raining down in France in the year 823, and a rain of “great heapes of Wheat” in Varsovia (Warsaw) in 828 (Gadbury 86-104). Fire, either mingled with rainfall or just by itself, was said to have fallen on Prema in 170, in the west of England in 406, and in Poland in the year 833 (Gadbury 79-104). Gadbury also describes a mysterious, crop-killing rain or storm twice, described by Gadbury as “A wonderfull storm at Constantinople that spoiled Fields and Gardens” occurring between 650-651, as well as “A Prodigious rain fell, that rotted all the Corn in the Fields” that flooded “the Countrey” in the year 820 (99-103). I think I’ll stick with the frogs or fish, thanks.