A couple of anglers were hiking deep into the mountains, looking for ice cold trout streams. They happened to come across an ancient footpath, then an equally ancient cabin.

Rocking on the front porch, puffing a pipe, was a Native man wearing an “FBI” cap (Full Blooded Indian). He looked to be older than the house and the path put together.

“Good morning boys,” he said, “Catching anything?” The anglers allowed that they were hoping to do so, if the dark clouds ahead would let them do any fishing. “Do you know how to predict the weather?” they asked.

“Just a minute,” he replied.

He stepped inside the cabin, and it seemed to the boys that there was a mighty wrestling match inside. The old man was chanting and dishes were clattering. Suddenly there was a boom and a puff of smoke. Then the elder emerged.

“Those clouds will vanish before your eyes. But watch out: before the sun stands high in the sky the clouds will tun black and the sky will fall.”

The boys went on their way, laughing up their sleeves. But the clouds did all blow away. Just as they started catching fish, another front blew in. They had to take shelter in a cave just as a hail storm arrived. The time was 11:45, just before the noon day sun.

The next day the anglers returned, asking the old timer what he thought their chances might be. Again, he ducked into his little cabin. This time there was even more of a ruckus and the chanting was even louder. Two puffs of smoke and out came the elder: “Sorry boys, cold rain and wind all day.”

The breeze was still—not a breath of air—and the skies were crystal blue. Again the boys laughed and went on their way. Just as they reached a perfect pool on a lovely stream, the wind changed. In a moment they were lashed with a hard driven rain, about twenty degrees colder than a heavy snow.

The next day they headed straight for the cabin. This time the rattling was even more ferocious. The chanting grew louder and louder. There came a puff of smoke. Then another. And another.

At last, the elder came to the porch.

“Sorry boys. Generator won’t start. No weather channel today.”