Punxsutawney Phil (Credit: Getty Images)
When German immigrants settled in Pennsylvania in the 1800s, they brought with them a strange European tradition.
Candlemas, a Christian Festival celebrated every February 2, is an event that uses a hedgehog or a badger to predict the weather.
Yeah. I said it was strange.
In 1886, the concept was first listed in American newspapers, but the tradition of turning it into a festival didn't begin until the following February.
With groundhogs being more common to the area in Pennsylvania than either hedgehogs or badgers, they decided to swap out the prognosticating rodent, and the festival was held in the tiny little hamlet of Gobbler's Knob, Pa.
They named the groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, and he was a member of the Groundhog Club since 1986.
Legend has it that this now 139-year-old groundhog, who not only has a backstory but also since has proven his virility by starting a family - as he and his wife Phyliis gave birth to twins - Sunny and Shadow - in 2024, can predict the weather for the next six weeks merely by seeing if there's a shadow on a cold, February morning.
As he does, more often than not, Phil saw his shadow Sunday, which means six more weeks of winter.
Of course, this elicited lots of groans and disappointment from the throng of revelers at the festival in Gobbler's Knob, who despite stating out in the cold and celebrating like it's New Year's Eve all over again, don't like the notion of cold weather for six more weeks.
It's such a weird contrast.
But, the reality is, Phil and his shadow-searching, soothsaying, doesn't have a great track record - which means all the pomp and circumstance of this Pennsylvania prediction tradition is akin to the Emperor's New Clothes - where a clearly cuckoo emperor walked around naked but was told his fit was fab by his loyal subjects.
In the past decade, Phil's forecast has been right just three times, and in the last score, just eight times.
There are scammy, sports-betting touts who are more reliable.
So, why is this silly tradition still a thing? Isn't it possible that at 139 (and counting) Phil is just a little past his prime? Might he have lost his fastball? Maybe put him out to pasture and let another indigenous creature give it a shot.
There's a little chipmunk in my parents' yard in Springfield that for the past several years pops his head out of a hole on warm, sunny days and creates garden mischief, causing my mother to shout some very colorful words.
He's got a lot of vim and vigor - and he only shows himself when the weather is good, meaning he probably has a better understanding of when temperatures are going to be hot or cold then the antiquated Phil.
Hell, my aging knees tell me when it's going to rain. I can do better than 3-in-10!
On top of everything else, the fact that Groundhog Day is listed as a holiday on our calendars, but we don't get a day off for it, makes it even more fugazi.
All told, this groundhog thing is a bunch of hogwash.
