Managing Editor

Groundhog Day is fast approaching -- but this year, good ole Punxutawney Phil, that famous groundhog from Pennsylvania, will have some competition in predicting the February weather.

There's a new critter making a big splash in Louisiana. It's Claude the Cajun Crawfish, who is Shreveport, La.'s, reigning guru of Mardi Gras weather forecasting from the animal kingdom. This year, he'll be making his prediction on Feb. 2, stealing a bit of Phil's spotlight.

The stakes are high for Claude -- party weather will get him the accolades of the public, but rain could cause them to turn their thoughts to crawfish gumbo -- bad news, if you're a weather-predicting crustacean.

Claude's not a newcomer to the prognosticating gig (he's been at it for a few years, now) and his method of forcasting is remarkably similar to Punxutawney Phil's. Phil performs an annual ritual of exiting his burrow. If he sees his shadow, then he'll scurry back inside, because the area's in for another six weeks of wintry weather. If not, then Spring has arrived.

If Claude comes out of his mudhole and waves his claws toward the sky, fair weather's on its way, but if Claude hides inside his burrow, watch out for foul weather.

Now, some folks may think of Claude as a sort of copycat, weather forecasting interloper, but let's face it. Phil's got to be nearing retirement age.

Besides, Phil's forecast can't be accurate for every part of the country.

Realistically, he could only be considered an indicator for his neck of the woods.

It's the same with Claude. His forecast can only apply to his branch of the swamp, right?

So the question remains -- what are we Missourians to do? Without a Phil or Claude of our own, we may be reduced to relying on conventions like radar, global conditions and other such nonsense to predict our weather.

Oh, perish the thought! Surely we can find our own weather guru from the animal kingdom. There are lots of choices out there. Granny on the Beverly Hillbillies had a weather beetle. There are lots of weather-related wive's tales about fur on the fox, colors on the caterpiller and the chirping of the cricket.

Here's a few of the tales:

"Time 15 seconds while counting how many times a cricket chirps. Then add 39 to it. This is called 'A poor man's thermometer.'"

"When a pig carries sticks around in its mouth to build shelter, precipitation will come."

"An ancient Chinese explanation for lunar eclipses was that the toad was trying to swallow the moon. In India, frogs were believed to reflect thunder."

"If the bees stay at home, rain will soon come. If they fly away, fine will be the day."

Still, none of these critters seem quite right as our state's pet prognosticator.

Maybe Missourians could have a weather mule -- but if we tried that, the mule would probably be to stubborn to reveal his forecast, since we wouldn't believe it 'til we saw it, anyway.

After all, isn't this the Show Me State?