On 2 May, 1916, at a season, therefore, when farmers are generally somewhat exercised as to the coming hay-harvest, and may well wish they had some contrivance—or knew of some method whereby they could ascertain, at all events, a few days in advance what the weather is going to be, a thought flashed into my mind. At first it raised a smile, it seemed so ridiculous and impracticable, yet there could be no harm in trying. I knew that most animals, such as birds, game, etc., sensed the approach of rain at least several hours before it began to fall. But the subject is one that has not yet come sufficiently under notice, so that we do not know whether they may not sense the atmospheric changes over an even longer period. We humans are not in a position to discover how animals come by their knowledge, we can only conclude that Nature has equipped them with more delicate "chords," so to speak, and that upon these highly strung chords she can sound a warning of her impending changes, since these, our humbler brethren, stand in more imminent need thereof. It is common knowledge that animals sense earthquakes long in advance of the actual shock, and this can only be accounted for in some such way. At the time of the earthquake in 1912, Rolf, at Mannheim, crept into a corner several hours before it took place, and on being questioned, replied: "Lol hat angst, weiss nid vor was." (Lol is frightened; doesn't know at what.) It was quite useless trying to get further particulars as to his fears, for an earthquake was an entirely new experience to him; at a repetition of the event his remarks would, doubtless, be of greater interest and importance. Now as the weather is a matter that concerns animals, and with which they are also familiar, I determined to see how far I could get with Lola on this subject. So I taught her as follows:

and to test her in this matter, I questioned her as to the last few days—here she answered correctly. Then I began:

"What about to-day?" Lola replied: "b" ( = it is raining a little). I now felt sufficiently encouraged to ask her concerning the days ahead, and received the following answers:

I told these forecastings of Lola's to several friends who, like myself, were watching the weather with anxiety. Rightly enough! the sun shone on 3 May; on that very day therefore I continued putting my questions—and Lola again prophesied:

On the next day, 4 May, the sun shone once more—as she had said it would, and in the afternoon I asked her: "How do you come to know the weather, Lola? How do you do it?" "Raten" (guessing). In astonishment I said: "From whom have you got that word?" "Dir" (from you) "Have you heard me say it?" "Yes!" On the 5th there were a few drops of rain, and on the 6th two hours' heavy downfall, but on the 7th it was dry and sunny, so that it may be that I had taxed her powers of anticipation beyond their limit, for I had asked her far in advance of the 3rd. From time to time she then continued to give me "advance information" as to the kind of weather to expect, two days or, at most, three days were the test put, and for some time I was able to fully rely on her forecasts, and would arrange my work accordingly, being careful not to cut or mow when Lola had prophesied rain, etc.

One morning, the sort of day when one cannot be sure of what it means to do, rain or clear, I again sought my dog's advice! It was very important to me that the hay should be carried, while the weather was dry, but I should have preferred having it loaded up towards evening, as the carts were wanted for other work—if only I knew what to expect! Lola decided for "r" (rain) in the afternoon, so I had the hay carried at eleven—at three the rain began, but my loads were saved! A long period of wet weather followed; after this had continued for a fortnight—a beautiful morning broke, fine and clear, so that every one about the farm said—"at last it's going to be fine again!" I enquired of Lola—"Will there be sun to-day?" "No!" she said: "Then tell me what the weather will be to-day?" I urged. "r." I was loth to believe her, yet, by eleven, the rain had begun again. Now all this seemed very nice, and I was quite delighted, for the importance of such accuracy in agricultural work was incalculable, but I soon found that I was "reckoning without my host!" After she had—as I have shown—gone on rapping out useful and correct replies for some time, she got sick of it, began to rap out all sorts of nonsense; indeed, I knew at once from her listless and unfriendly manner that her interest was falling off, and that the replies she was giving were false. It seemed to me, indeed, that she was doing this obstinately and on purpose, so as to put me off asking any more questions! And—if so—she certainly gained her point. The lesson of this, is that one has to bear in mind that one is not dealing with a machine, but with a living being—and with one that is in many respects exceedingly "unreasonable" and particularly "self-willed."

I had been devoting myself to this work for some months, and had lost some of my earlier interest, but I started again three days ago so as to have another test to set down here. Lola proved to be up to the mark again, seemed interested, and I did my best to encourage her by saying: "You will be pleased when you know this!" ... "This is nice!" ... "See how much more a dog knows than many a man!" and so on. And as a result she announced on 5 January, 1917.