Oral histories versus the scientific record in identifying climate trends at Biosphere Reserves in Canada, the USA and Mexico
This study demonstrates that Indigenous and local oral histories generally complement instrumental climate records regarding temperature trends across three North American biosphere reserves, though discrepancies often arise from differences in spatial scale, livelihood-specific sensitivities, and data limitations.
Original paper licensed under CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). This is an AI-generated explanation of the paper below. It is not written or endorsed by the authors. For technical accuracy, refer to the original paper. Read full disclaimer
Climate change is no longer a distant forecast; it is a reality being felt in the daily lives of people and the health of ecosystems around the world. To understand how the climate is shifting, scientists have long relied on two distinct ways of knowing. The first is the scientific record: precise measurements taken by thermometers and rain gauges at fixed locations, which provide a standardized, numerical history of temperature and weather. The second is oral history: the accumulated, multi-generational knowledge held by Indigenous communities and local residents who have lived on the land for centuries. These observers notice subtle changes in the timing of seasons, the behavior of animals, and the severity of storms, often seeing patterns that a single weather station might miss. The question of how these two ways of seeing the world compare is vital. If they tell the same story, it strengthens our understanding of the climate crisis. If they differ, it forces us to ask whether our instruments are missing something or if our human experience is telling us something the machines cannot.
A new study brings these two perspectives together by looking at three protected natural areas in North America: the Noatak Biosphere Reserve in Alaska, the Riding Mountain Biosphere Reserve in Manitoba, and the Sierra La Laguna Biosphere Reserve in Mexico. These sites were chosen because they represent very different environments, from the Arctic tundra to temperate forests and subtropical mountains, and because they have both long-term weather records and communities with deep, documented knowledge of their local climates. Researchers set out to see if the stories told by local elders and farmers matched the numbers recorded by weather stations. They did not conduct new interviews; instead, they carefully reviewed existing studies where community members had already described changes in their environment over the last several decades. They then paired these stories with data from the nearest reliable weather stations, looking at specific metrics like how long cold spells last, how many hot days occur, and how the length of the growing season has shifted.
The results show a strong agreement when it comes to temperature. In the Arctic Noatak region, Indigenous elders reported that winters are not as persistently cold as they used to be and that autumn days are warmer. The weather station data confirmed this, showing that the longest cold spells have shortened and that maximum temperatures in winter and autumn have risen significantly. In fact, the number of winter days where the high temperature exceeds the historical average has increased by more than a month over the study period. Similarly, in the Sierra La Laguna mountains of Mexico, local knowledge holders described heat arriving earlier in the year and lasting longer. The instrumental record supported this, showing clear warming trends across spring, summer, and autumn, along with an increase in the number of days that are unusually hot. In all three locations, the direction of the change—warming—was the same whether it was felt by a person or measured by a sensor.
However, the story becomes more complex when looking at rainfall and the specific impacts on daily life. In Riding Mountain, where farmers work the land, the experience of drought and flooding did not always match the small changes seen in the rainfall data. While the weather station showed only a slight increase in dry days and a slight decrease in very wet days, farmers reported mixed feelings, with some seeing drier conditions and others seeing more flooding. The researchers suggest this is because a farmer's experience depends on their specific soil, their crops, and their access to water, which can make a small change in rainfall feel like a major crisis or go unnoticed entirely. The same was true for the length of the growing season; while the data showed the season had lengthened by six days, many farmers did not perceive this change, likely because their definition of a "growing season" is tied to specific crops and frost risks rather than just temperature averages.
In some places, the limitations of the scientific record were just as important as the data itself. In Sierra La Laguna, the weather station had a very incomplete record of rainfall, making it impossible to compare the data with local observations about changing rain patterns. In this case, the oral history provided a longer and more continuous picture of the climate than the instruments could. The study also found that while the data could confirm that hurricanes are happening, it could not fully capture the local feeling that storms are becoming stronger but less frequent, simply because the data on storm impacts was too sparse.
Ultimately, the study concludes that these two ways of knowing are not competing truths but complementary pieces of a larger puzzle. Where long, high-quality weather records exist, they generally confirm the warming trends noticed by local communities. But where the data is short, incomplete, or too broad to capture local details, the deep, lived experience of Indigenous and local people fills in the gaps. The differences that do appear are not necessarily errors in observation; rather, they often reveal that human experience is shaped by a complex mix of factors—like soil type, wind, and livelihood—that a single thermometer cannot measure. For the managers of these protected reserves, the lesson is clear: to truly understand climate change and manage these landscapes effectively, they must listen to both the numbers and the stories, recognizing that each offers a unique and necessary view of a changing world.
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