And so that we could foretell heat, rains and winds that bring the cold by clear signs, Jupiter himself decreed what the moon’s phases would warn of, under which constellation the south winds would drop, what sights, often seen, should make farmers keep stock closer to the byre. When winds get up, straight away the choppy seas begin to swell, a dry crashing starts to be heard on the mountain heights, the beaches to be churned and to boom along their whole length, and the threshing of the woods to grow louder. Unrestrained, the sea washes at the curved keels of ships, while gulls fly back from open sea and bear their calls to shore, sea-mews frolic on dry land and the heron leaves wetland haunts and flies high above the cloud. When wind is coming, you will often see meteors, sliding steeply down the night sky, leave long, white-hot trails of fire behind them, chaff and fallen leaves dancing in the air, and feathers play, skimming on the water. When it lightens from the direction of the north wind, and thunders in the houses both of east and west winds, the whole countryside swims, with ditches full, and sailors at sea all furl wet sails.
Rain should never catch farmers unaware: either the cranes will have fled it, flying high as it rises from the valley bottoms, or the heifer will have looked skyward and sniffing the air with nostrils wide, shrieking swifts will have been wheeling round the ponds, and the frogs singing their old song in the mud.
The ant, fraying its narrow way, will have carried out the eggs more often from its inner sanctum, the rainbow drunk from the waters and the great army of crows
have come down cawing from the pasture, wing close by wing, in a dense column. Now you see seabirds of all kinds, and those that forage in the fresh water
on the meadows by the Cayster, vy to pour the water wide over their shoulders, now thrust their heads
into the waves, now run on the surface, and exult in their vain attempts to bathe; and the cocky raven
calls at the top of its voice for rain, strutting
alone on the dry sand. Nor would girls, carding their wool at night, have been unaware of coming rain,
seeing the oil glitter in the burning lamp,
and snuff growing on the wicks.
