Groundhog Day always happens on Feb. 2, unlike other celebrated holidays which commandeer Mondays, so humans can enjoy long weekends. The animal’s scientific name is Marmota monax. On our home farm in Greene County, NY, during my late teens I shot a lot of woodchucks.

We were afraid one of our beefers would step in a woodchuck den’s entrance, breaking a leg. The creation of the actual den resulted in the hurling of lots of soil, covering the adjacent earth, destroying forage.

My first serious encounter with the handiwork of one M. monax family took place during summer 1964. I was working for a dairyman named Bob in Schoharie County. The purpose of such employment was twofold: first, to earn money; second, to earn farm practice credits for Cornell, where I would begin classes as an ag college freshman that September.

One hot June day, Bob was baling hay. A sensibly frugal person, he had not purchased a bale kicker. My primary job was to pull the bales out of the square baler chute, stacking them carefully on the hay wagon. My secondary job was to watch for the woodchuck holes in front of the baler pick-up.

I never quite figured out why that was my responsibility, since I was behind the baler, and the wide-raked hay windrow could totally cover large openings to woodchuck dens; thus, neither Bob nor I saw that hole. The baler’s idler wheel dropped into that hole, allowing the pick-up to slam into the mound abutting the opening. Thus, hay baling was done for that day. Bob removed the wounded hay pick-up and threw it into his light truck. He had me ride with him to the New Holland dealer in Middleburgh.

The dealer’s service people repaired the baler’s pick-up while we waited. Bob made sure that I was aware that the repair job cost over $25. I worried that he would take that unplanned expense out of my wages ($20 per week, plus room and board). Fortunately, I didn’t have to pay for any of the woodchuck’s damage.

The following day, a sunny one, the baler was back at work, as was I with my hay hook. All told, Bob was a good boss – strict but fair. At the end of the haying season, he paid me 11 weeks’ wages. This was my first job where Social Security was collected. Employer and employee were each responsible for 1.85% at that time, but Bob paid my share as well as his.

Fast forward to Feb. 2, 2024, and Punxsutawney, PA, where the groundhog named Phil bravely exited his den. I believe he received encouragement from his human caretakers. According to tradition, if Phil sees his shadow, we Northeasterners are to expect six more weeks of winter. If Phil doesn’t see his shadow, we should expect early spring and warmer weather.

Chants of Phil’s name filled the air in that part of northwest Pennsylvania on the second of February, minutes before the groundhog came into dawn’s light to predict whether we would see six more weeks of winter or early spring. Chants were replaced by thousands cheering, as judges determined that Punxsutawney Phil failed to see his shadow, thus predicting that an early spring was on its way.

Summing up many predictions from many Phils, over many years: Forecast-wise, Punxsutawney Phil has been right 39% of the time since the tradition started in 1887, according to the Stormfax Weather Almanac. He has seen his shadow more often than not, predicting a longer winter 107 times (84%).

USA Today compiled all of these results since 1887: Saw shadow – six more weeks of winter: 107; no shadow – early spring: 19; partial shadow: 1; no record: 10; did not appear: 1. The last three categories have been left out of the official tally by the unbiased judge panel at USA Today.

A little more research on my part revealed that the esteemed rodent honored on Feb. 2 was actually Phil #40 (plus or minus). Sadly, M. monax doesn’t live forever; in the wild, groundhogs can live up to six years, two or three years being average. In captivity, groundhogs can live up to 14 years. (Phil is captive.)

From another source I encountered some more “Phil” data which don’t agree entirely with the above. I’m boiling it down from question/answer format which can be viewed in full at groundhog.org/phil-faq. This is what I learned:

Punxsutawney Phil is the only true weather forecasting groundhog. The others are just impostors. There has only been one Punxsutawney Phil. He has been making predictions since 1886. He gets his longevity from drinking the “elixir of life,” a secret recipe. Phil takes one sip every summer at the Groundhog Picnic and it magically gives him seven more years of life. Phil’s forecasts are not made in advance by the Inner Circle of humans. After Phil emerges from his burrow on Feb. 2, he speaks to the Groundhog Club president in “Groundhogese,” a language only understood by the current president of the Inner Circle. His proclamation is then translated for the world.

The celebration of Groundhog Day began with Pennsylvania’s earliest German settlers. In the Old Country, hedgehogs help forecast spring; in the New World, that task fell to much more common groundhogs. Germans brought with them the tradition of Candlemas Day, which states, “For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day, so far will the snow swirl in May…” (It rhymes in English but not in original German.)

Punxsutawney Phil was named after Spain’s King Phillip. Prior to being called Phil, he was called Br’er Groundhog. Phil has a wife named Phyliss – but Phil has never had any children.