By Berry Craig
NKy Tribune columnist
The annual migration of woolly bear caterpillars will soon begin. Like the flowering goldenrod, the fuzzy little critter is a sure sign that autumn is upon us.
The caterpillars are more than a harbinger of falling leaves, frosty pumpkins and football. For eons, they have been sworn by—and sometimes sworn at—as prognosticators of winter weather.
Also known as “woolly worms” in Kentucky and elsewhere, woolly bears are common in other states, too. “Hurrying like a caterpillar in the fall,” is an old New England expression for haste.
Wherever it roams, a woolly bear’s lot in life isn’t easy. The caterpillar grows from egghood until, it seems, a primordial instinct sends it scurrying across highways to risk being squashed into oblivion by speeding cars and trucks. Many of those that manage to run the motorized gauntlet fall victim to birds of prey.
When the weather turns cold, woolly bears hunt for cover, typically in a rotten log, in a pile of leaves or under a rock.
When the temperature drops below 32, woolly bears freeze, but not to death. They survive, thanks to what’s called a cyroprotectant, a sugar-based antifreeze formed in their bodies.
When spring arrives, the caterpillars crawl out of their sheltered spots, make cocoons and turn into yellowish-orange Isabella Tiger Moths.
Anyway, reading a woolly bear is simple enough. Just check the hue of its fuzz.
All black portends abundant snow and sub-freezing temperatures. All brown means a milder, mostly rainy winter.
However, the majority of woolly worms are some of both.
That’s pretty much in line with Kentucky winters, which bring fair weather and foul. For example, brown on caterpillar bows and sterns and black amidships translates into a temperate start and a finish with a cold snap in between, say in late January or early February.
Black fore-and-aft and brown in between means a rough start and finish to winter, with a warmish spell in between.
But there’s a problem with woolly bears as weather seers. On any given stretch of Kentucky roadway–no more than 100 yards even—-you’re apt to spot them in a multitude of color combinations.
Most scientists are skeptical of woolly bears as prognosticators. But Robert A. Myers, Frankfort-based state naturalist for the Kentucky state park system, hedges his bets.
“My Knox County grandmother told me back in the 1970’s that woolly bears are right, so I have to respect her wisdom,” he said.
In Lee County, in eastern Kentucky like Knox county, locals put on a Woolly Worm Festival in October. This year’s observance is set for Oct. 21-23 in Beattyville, the county seat.
“Far from being a normal festival, the Woolly Worm Festival became a tradition rooted in Lee County’s culture,” says the festival website.
The website explains that “A woolly worm’s body has 13 segments-each corresponding to a week in winter. If a segment is light brown, that means the week will be mild. If a segment is black, that means a harsh, cold week. The worm acted as a weather predictor for many old time farmers who would harvest crops and cut firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter.”
More information about the festival is available by phoning (606) 464-2888.
Berry Craig of Mayfield is a professor emeritus of history from West Kentucky Community and Technical College in Paducah and the author of six books on Kentucky history, including True Tales of Old-Time Kentucky Politics: Bombast, Bourbon and Burgoo, Kentucky Confederates: Secession, Civil War, and the Jackson Purchase, and, with Dieter Ullrich, Unconditional Unionist: The Hazardous Life of Lucian Anderson, Kentucky Congressman. Reach him at bcraig8960@gmail.com