Turns out weather loaches are so called because they respond to barometric pressure. This poem is dedicated to my friend Crake’s random guessing of this fact. And to their weather loaches.
Big storm’s a comin’,
I feels it in my scales
I’m tellin you younguns
My instinct never fails.
It may sound mighty strange
And y’all may scoff and giggle
But you know a storm’s a comin’
When you see me start to wiggle.
When I start to dance a gig
Goin’ crazy in my tank
Well the thunder’s on its way
You can take that to the bank.
My powers of prediction
Are way beyond reproach
I ain’t just any fish
I’m a gol’durned weather loach.
Tom Juniper Poetry 