Groundhog Day Lore
Groundhog Day is a European tradition, originating in Germany and the British Isles.
The Germans are well-known in Pennsylvania as the Pennsylvania Dutch (a bastardization of the German word for German (Deutsch)). So they are actually Pennsylvania Germans, not Dutch at all. Sorry, no wooden shoes, but lots of potatoes. The Germans are almost certainly the origin of Groundhog Day in central Pennsylvania.
The old German saying was:
For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day,
So far will the snow swirl until May.
For as the snow blows on Candlemas Day,
So far will the sun shine before May.
Candlemas Day, also known as the Feast of Purification, is the traditional day when the year's supply of candles was blessed for the Catholic Church. The tradition goes back to the Jewish tradition that a woman was unclean for 40 days after bearing a child. If you count from December 25 th. you will see the basis of the Feast of Purification and the tie-in with Mary. What this has to do with groundhogs isn't clear until you realize that Candlemas Day was set on the date of an old pagan holiday halfway through winter.
The early Christian (essentially Catholic at that time) Church, not knowing exactly when events occurred and because calendars were really messed up, just placed important church celebrations such as Christmas at the same time as older pagan celebrations to avoid riling the natives who liked to party at the same old time each year!
Just how messed up was the calendar? The Julian Calendar was named for Julius Caesar who, on January 1, 45 B.C.E. changed the old Roman year from 304 days to 365 ¼ days but had to make the year 45 B.C.E. 445 days long to get the solar and lunar calendars in sync.
Before Common Era, is the "Politically Correct" term used by scholars to avoid riling non-Christians by using B.C.E. instead of B.C. and anyway, Julius knew the Ides of March but not when Christ would be born so he didn't really call the year 45 B.C.E.
The Julian Calendar wasn't perfect because it got the length of the year wrong by a small amount but his dating system (he picked women up at bars with some line about being Emperor, but, even though timekeeping is technically known as "horology," I mean his calendar system) was used by the church until Pope Gregory straightened things out in 1582 when he fine-tuned the year's length to 356 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes, and 12 seconds.
Because Julius's year length had been off a bit every year for almost 16 centuries, the total difference was quite large. In fact, there were 10 days too many in the calendar by 1582, so Gregory removed Oct 5-14, 1582 from the year. Those days simply never existed. It wasn't until 1752 that the British Empire (and thus the American and Canadian colonies) adopted Gregory's calendar.
So you can see how silly arguments are over exactly which day we should celebrate certain events. Still, Groundhog Day's place on the calendar is easy to calculate from the solar calendar and it definitely IS February 2nd on our current calendar.
Likewise, arguments over the correct animal to watch are silly. It's the shadow that counts. In Europe the Germans used to watch the badger on Candlemas Day but, not having any badgers in Pennsylvania, they switched to the hibernating groundhog.
Personally I think that, having no other good reason for a celebration between New Year's Day and Easter (or spring), the long-suffering snowed-in farming communities just made up a fun holiday and placed it midway between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox (which is February 2nd).
From 1887, the first recorded trip to Gobbler's Knob, through 2001, Phil has seen his shadow 91 times, failed to see it 14 times, and the results weren't recorded 9 times. You can see details at the StormFax Web Site.
It's interesting to note that neither WWI or WWII interfered with Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney.
Groundhogs, also known as Whistle-Pigs (I never heard one whistle so I haven't the slightest idea why but the Encyclopedia Britannica says they are), are often thought of as being big rats but, more accurately, they are big ground squirrels. Squirrels, of course, are just rats with a fuzzy tail and good press agents.
Groundhogs are of the family Marmota monax; hence they are also referred to as marmots. You will also hear them called woodchucks around Punxsutawney but I don't know how widespread that terminology is.
Since they dig holes in pastures, farmers around here have some quaint, rustic and colorful names for groundhogs, but this is a family site so I won't mention any of them.
Groundhogs weigh between 10 and 20 lbs. in the fall after gorging themselves on clover, grass, dandelions, and so forth. Their main habitat appears to be as road kill along the side of every rural road and highway in central Pennsylvania because it's unlikely you could drive more than a mile around here without seeing one or more dead groundhogs during warm weather. In fact, swerving to miss deer or to hit groundhogs is a major local sport resulting in more accidents than Rolling Rock Beer from nearby Latrobe, Pa. (If you want to know about the "33" on every RR label, see www.straightdope.com/classics/a2_044).
These days the number of visitors for Groundhog Day and related festivities reaches about 35,000 at the height of winter in the mountains of Pennsylvania. The population of Punxsutawney is less than 7,000. The current Mayor of Punxsutawney is Jim "The Snake" Werhle." (Don't ask.)
The Groundhog Day movie was shot in flat country in Illinois so there was no way to replicate the high hill (Gobbler's Knob) where Phil actually makes his appearance. Therefore the movie's groundhog stump was set in the town square. The real town square is two square blocks in size with the usual cannon and bandstand at the Western end. Phil's actual home (in the public library/police/fire station complex) is at the eastern end of the park. Other parts of the town were reproduced for the movie at least as far as putting the names of some of the real stores on the set's stores.
Punxsutawney is, of course, an Indian name, the town having been founded by Delaware Indians in the early 1700's. The name of the town is from the Indian name for the riverside location which is something like "punksd-utnoy" or "town of sand flies."
By the way, I would appreciate it if you didn't write to complain about my spelling unless you are a REAL Delaware Indian and have an authoritative Delaware Language Alphabet.
I'm happy to report there is no major fly infestation these days. The major infestation in Punxsutawney these days is an incredible explosion in the number of the fast food industry's finest architectural masterpieces. In fact, there used to be a 20-foot-tall plywood statue of Phil in a vacant lot on main street, downtown. It was replaced by a MacDonald's about a decade ago. I'm not certain that was an improvement.
- John McCormick
Olde English saying:
If Candlemas be fair and bright,
Winter has another flight.
If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,
Winter will not come again.
From Scotland:
If Candlemas Day is bright and clear,
There'll be two winters in the year.
German couplet:
For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day,
So far will the snow swirl until May.
For as the snow blows on Candlemas Day,
So far will the sun shine before May.
American saying:
If the sun shines on Groundhog Day;
Half the fuel and half the hay.
From my mother:
Our Phil is a reddish brown marmot
He hibernates till Candlemas Day,
Then comes out and looks around
Decides if he will stay-
If his shadow shows he runs back home
And covers up his head,
We're in for six more weeks of winter
He would rather spend it in bed!
I don't believe that story
He's just a wee bit shy
A groundhog girl may just show up
And he's hoping to catch her eye!
Copyright, 2002 John A. McCormick, Inc.
Phil, the Groundhog, up close and personal
by John McCormick
Every February 2nd the media flock to the small west-central
Pennsylvania community of Punxsutawney to learn what the weather
will be like for the next six weeks.
For nearly 104 years Phil personally has been honing his
Delphic propensities, perfecting his craft, and constantly
striving to improve the reliability of weather predictions until,
today, Phil has reached the peak of his profession and is every
bit as reliable as the U.S. Weather Service.
All we normally see of the hairy, hardworking weather-rodent
Phil is the half hour he spends in front of the klieg lights on a
cold February morning each year; few are privileged to see the
amount of preparation that goes into making each year's
prediction.
This year, in an exclusive interview with the meteorological
marmot, this reporter looks at his home and professional life,
following Phil from his palatial home at the center of town life
on his estate which he graciously opens to the public who use it
as a town park, to the moment he leaves on his yearly journey
into the media spotlight.
Unlike many celebrities, Phil and his family are not the
recluses one might expect; instead, they are always ready to
greet both townspeople and visitors alike from the picture window
of their home.
Although his actual quarters are kept very rustic in order
that Phil can remain in touch with his bucolic nature, so
important to maintaining the correct mindset essential to his
success in predicting the whims of Mother Nature, the rest of the
building houses his 10,000-volume library.
But, as if to remind us that every celebrity must live in
fear of the crazy element that can run the gamut from
souvenir-seeking fans to crazed assassins, connected to Phil's
home/library is a fully staffed police station manned 24 hours a
day.
With a foresight that can only be applauded by those who
depend on Phil's vital services, the town has even built a fire
department adjacent to Phil's residence where his fellow citizens
stand prepared to leap into action to protect this most valuable
and celebrated member of the community.
As I approach Phil's home from the adjacent park, across
from the area's largest shopping complex, Groundhog Plaza, this
reporter is first struck by the elegant but understated entrance
to the weather shrine.
Although there are no large, glaring signs indicating that
this outwardly utilitarian structure houses the world's greatest
four- legged weather mystic, the entry is graced by a simple but
effective life-sized bronze statue of Phil himself, one paid for
by a group of local believers in the town itself and erected in
1977 in recognition of his long and faithful service.
As Phil welcomed me to his residence, there was an
unmistakable air of tragedy about this very reserved celebrity
and, although he declined to discuss his private concerns, I was
well aware that only a few miles away his fellow groundhogs were
considered little more than vermin to be aggressively sought and
destroyed by local farmers and gardeners.
A note of even more personal tragedy entered prognosticating
Phil's life when, his first wife, Phyllis, died in 1978. This
sense of tragedy is only emphasized because Phil himself, being
the anointed "SEER of SEERS," is immortal.
Phil's entire family was present, and I suppose I should
take a few words to say something about the apparently happy
marriage of Phil and second wife Philomena, which was performed
at a ceremony presided over by a county judge.
This was an arranged marriage, with Philomena coming from
the extreme southeastern corner of the state.
Although Philomena had come from a much more sophisticated
environment in Philadelphia, she was both gracious and open,
dressed only in her inexpensive fur coat.
Also in residence with Phil and Philomena is their cousin,
Barney.
As I was locked into the building for the night's vigil,
Phil was quiet but intense in his concentration, preparing for
his dawn appearance at Gobbler's Knob high in the hills
overlooking the quiet town of Punxsutawney.
Contrary to the accusations made by some yellow journalists
and repeated in some muckraking supermarket tabloids, Phil does
not make any advance decision; he told me that his prediction is
made precisely when he stands forth on the Knob.
As a part of his preparation, Phil sleeps from September to
February, gathering his energy for the remarkable effort involved
in making his most accurate prediction.
Despite the comfortable surroundings in this modern home
which was built for him in 1973-4, I remarked on the absence of
any modern entertainment devices.
Phil pointed out that this was for two reasons; first, the
presence of modern electronics would disturb his carefully
maintained closeness to nature, and, second, Phil apparently
lives in dread of seeing or hearing weather predictions on TV or
radio - thus, this is one marmot family that will never watch
James Herriott's "All Things Great and Small," CNN, or even
Willard Scott's smiling face.
As we settled down for the evening, Phil dined lightly on
the wilted lettuce bouquet I brought for Philomena and the rest
of his family discreetly chowed down on the kibble supplied by
Phil's trainer and official handler, Bud Dunkel.
Bud, who is generally known as "The Keeper of the
Groundhog," is in reality Phil's caterer, delivering fresh
vegetables and sunflower seeds to supplement Phil, Philomena, and
cousin Barney's regular Eukanuba diet.
Although I had intended to sit up with Phil all night on his
lonely vigil, I must have drifted off to sleep because, the next
thing I knew, Jim Means, President of the Punxsutawney Groundhog
Club, along with Phil's personal trainer, Bud Dunkel, had already
arrived dressed in top-hated formal wear, ready to escort Phil
to his morning appearance before the world's media and adoring
throngs.
This is where my part of the story ends, leaving the actual
reporting of Phil's brief appearance in the glare of publicity to
the gaggle of reporters awaiting him on that cold hilltop or
destiny.
Me? I am heading for a hot breakfast before the throng
returns to what is now a nearly deserted town.
Although I had politely shared some of Phil's dry kibble, it
just wasn't filling.
I plan to spend most of the rest of the day watching over my
snow-covered garden plot awaiting any of Phil's distant relatives
who might stick their heads out on their day.
But I expect to put my varmint rifle down long enough to
attend some of the day's festivities in nearby Punxsutawney; in
particular I want to see the Oreo Cookie Stacking Contest and the
naming of the Punxsutawney Ambassadors.
-30-
Copyright 1991, John A. McCormick, Inc.
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