Modern technology has yet to make weather reports
completely reliable and is shaky when it comes to
predicting an earthquake. Perhaps unruly animals
and oral traditions can augment our understanding
of the unpredictable.
Earthquakes are perhaps the most terrifying of all natural disasters, primarily because of their unpredictability. In a few seconds, a big jolt, such as the temblor that hit Taiwan on September 21, 1999, can kill thousands of people and cause damage beyond description. Looking back, some people claim that warning signs did exist, but were ignored. "Quakes have portents. We just need to do systematic research on the portents and find out what they are," says Cheng Jen-hung, a professor in the Department of Geography at Chinese Culture University.
The first wave, which comes before "the ox turns in the earth"--an ancient Chinese explanation for the cause of earthquakes--can be detected by observing the water table, which rises or falls when faults begin to move, Cheng says. For the general public, unusual animal behavior is a more visible indicator of an impending disaster. After the 1999 quake, Cheng went to central Taiwan to give a lecture about earthquakes. A few members of his audience told him that they had observed animals acting strangely before the 7.6 temblor hit: Dogs became fidgety, mice acted as if they were drunk, birds flew away from their habitats. Similar phenomena occurred when another major earthquake hit the island in March last year. Minutes before the shock, more than 1,000 crocodiles--kept at a farm in southern Taiwan--barked in unison, making a sound akin to numerous trucks starting up at the same time. "They must have sensed something unusual," Cheng says. "Humans like to claim to be the rulers of creation, but in fact animals can perceive many things that we can't."
Many of these reactions can be explained scientifically. Some scientists believe pre-earthquake seismic waves, although imperceptible to humans, are strong enough to make animals respond. Animals are sensitive to electromagnetic pulses caused by geological movements before an earthquake hits. One such animal is the mouse, which may appear stunned or agitated when it is exposed to electromagnetic waves in a lab. In addition, even small movements in the earth's crust can produce sound waves beneath the ground, release gases from underneath the earth, and alter the temperature, according to Cheng. "All these changes may cause animals to act funny, like dogs changing their behavior around strange gases detected by their sophisticated olfactory senses," he says.
According to Cheng, at least one disaster was averted after people noticed some unusual animal behavior. In early 1975, seismologists noted increasing seismic activity in Liaoning Province, in northeast China. People living in Haicheng, a city in Liaoning Province, were alarmed by a bizarre event: Snakes that usually hibernate during winter emerged from their slumber and ended up freezing to death. Evacuation warnings were sent out days before February 4, 1975, when a 7.3 earthquake hit the city and nearby towns. People in the earthquake zone abandoned the crowded industrial cities and moved to the surrounding countryside. As a result, although 90 percent of the buildings in the city of Haicheng were destroyed by the earthquake, the decision to warn people to leave the area averted many deaths.
The Haicheng Earthquake is an exception, as the vast majority of powerful temblors arrive without being detected in advance--indeed, in spite of the 1975 success, there was no such warning preceding the 1976 earthquake in Tangshan, Hebei Province, in northern China. The quake weighed in at a magnitude of 7.6 on the Richter scale and caused an estimated 250,000 fatalities. Today, it is still nearly impossible to predict an earthquake using seismological data, observing natural phenomena, or monitoring animal behavior. Still, some advocate investing in research on animal behavior, although such a project could take decades to produce reliable results. "You know, a single successful prediction could save many lives. There are frustrations of course, but the longer one is devoted to research, the better prepared one is to reduce false alarms," Cheng says.
But Taiwan has yet to begin studying whether animal behavior can serve as a reliable indicator of seismic activity. In other earthquake-prone countries, such as China and Japan, related research is already underway. Cheng suggests Taiwan should first consider creating an official notification system through which people can report unusual phenomena to the Seismology Center, an office of the Central Weather Bureau. Information that at first appears to be irrelevant can be collectively analyzed and then turned into a meaningful database, which in turn could be used along with scientific instruments to predict earthquakes. "By collecting the data, we can dispel rumors about earthquakes and will be able to reduce the damage when the real thing hits," he says.
Observing animal behavior to foretell an earthquake is one weapon in an arsenal of folk wisdom, and these traditions have their own tools to predict meteorological phenomena. Perhaps the best-known gems of folk wisdom in Taiwan are the 24 solar divisions, which map out the year's climatic changes much like a Farmers' Almanac. The divisions, which originated in China's Yellow River valley thousands of years ago, are called chieh chi in Mandarin. Terms marking seasonal changes such as "Slight Heat," "Cold Dew," and "Excited Insects," have guided farmers for centuries.
Some of the terms do not seem appropriate for Taiwan's subtropical climate. Seasonal stages such as "Little Snow" and "Great Snow" are phenomena rarely experienced in Taiwan. "But every point of chieh chi indicates an obvious change in the climate," notes TV weather reporter Yu Chuan-shin. For example, "Great Snow" usually introduces a period of comparative cold, though not snowy, weather in Taiwan. "Besides, around this point in the year snow does fall on Taiwan's higher mountains, only most people living in the plains aren't aware of it," he says.
Meanwhile, some chieh chi points are recognized by all Taiwanese. The "Clear and Bright" point determines when Tomb Sweeping Day--a national holiday in early April--is held. The chieh chi also indicates the date of the winter solstice too, a day at the end of the year when glutinous rice balls are standard fare.
Folk proverbs passed down from generation to generation can be valuable sources of information at times. "These proverbs exist to this day because they've undergone numerous tests for centuries. There must be something to them," says TV weatherman Lin Chih-guan. Most proverbs regarding the climate are regional, he says, for example: "Even if the rice crock is empty, don't go to Santiao Chiao." Santiao Chiao, a village located at Taiwan's northeast tip, always bears the brunt of strong seasonal winds in winter. The saying advises fishermen not to go out to sea on winter days, even if there is not enough food to eat. Some proverbs refer to Taiwan's climate in general, such as "spring is like the face of a stepmother." Here, the unpredictable weather of Taiwan's spring is likened to the capricious mood swings of a stereotypical stepmother. "May rains disturb women" suggests how quickly afternoon showers can come and go in the fifth month of the lunar calendar (approximately June on the Western calendar). Housewives who are busy doing outdoor chores must be prepared for the fickle, foul, short-lived weather that visits Taiwan in the summer.
Of course, there are times when folk wisdom proves to be untrustworthy when it comes to predicting the weather. Lin thinks such disappointments are inevitable and people should not be too critical if folk wisdom fails them in their time of need. "Today's weather reports never dare to claim to be 100 percent accurate, so why should we expect the same consistency from our ancestors' predictions?" asks Lin. "People in ancient times differed from us. They made conclusions from life experience, while we rely on science. But we don't necessarily make better judgments," he adds. Some observations are hard to swallow. Take palm grass for example. Many used to say that by counting the number of creases that cross the plant's blade, one could tell how many typhoons were going to hit Taiwan that year. Today few take this bit of advice seriously.
Many weathermen, Lin and Yu included, introduce folk sayings to their viewers to make their weather reports more interesting and informative. "Knowing a bit about meteorology and using one's common sense is important, in that it helps one choose the right time and the right place to go when planning a vacation," Yu says.
Although the ox in the earth has remained elusive to this day, the same can be said of the attempts to link animal behavior with earthquake prediction. Solely relying on the aberrations of animals' actions or on ancient saws to predict future calamities invites disaster. But that doesn't mean that disposing of such ideas is necessarily worthwhile, rather, if such concepts are used in concert with modern technology, it could ease the task of predicting catastrophes.
"Look toward the mountains in winter and toward the sea in spring" is a guide to predicting rain on Taiwan's west coast. In winter, people in this region predict whether rain is coming by looking at the top of the mountains, where the northeast seasonal winds cause dark clouds to form. In spring, the seasonal wind stops, and the southwest air current coming from the sea starts to blow and brings moisture. Thus, people can tell if rain will soon arrive by looking westward to see whether dark clouds appear above the sea.
"The fierce kirin comes, and plants get scorched," describes the damaging power of the burning wind that occurs on the island, especially in Taiwan's southeastern Taitung County. When an air current hits the windward side of a mountain, the moisture in it begins to form clouds. Then the current becomes dry, proceeds to the lee of the mountain and makes a descent into the plains, resulting in a very hot wind that dehydrates crops. The burning wind is compared to a fierce kirin--a mythical Chinese animal--which often appears in temple paintings with its hooves in flames.
"Windy Hsinchu, rainy Ilan" is a proverb that refers to typical weather conditions in winter and spring in two of Taiwan's northern cities. Beginning in autumn, the northeast seasonal winds bring unusually frequent rains to Ilan's triangle--shaped Lanyang Plain, an area surrounded by mountains on its western and southern sides, with the eastern side facing the ocean. At the same time, strong winds blow into Hsinchu--a city on Taiwan's west coast--but bring little rain. Another proverb, "Kites fly wildly in September," tells of the strong winds in Hsinchu after the ninth month on the lunar calendar, around October on the Western calendar. Hsinchu's inhabitants have taken advantage of the weather by using the wind to dry persimmons and rice-flour noodles, both of which have become well-known specialty foods of this windy city.