Groundhogs are not particularly attractive creatures, not even Wiarton Willie, with his pale fur. Closeups also show beady little eyes, oversize yellowish teeth and long toenails – ideal for digging in the dirt.
Their bodies are not shaped for speed but for burrowing in tunnels. They are not cunning hunters or sleekly stealthy. They look like rodents, which they are – big ones – and what they do best is dig holes.
And yet, on the second day of February each year, the world seems to go groundhog-crazy. There are sunrise ceremonies where people watch in breathless anticipation to find out if the groundhog will see his shadow. Folklore has it that if he does, it means six more weeks of winter. If he does not, it indicates an early spring.
There is even science to back it all up. A shadow would indicate clear weather, and in February, that means cold weather. No shadow means cloud cover, and warmer temperatures.
But as we know, weather in this part of the world changes on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. Shadow or no shadow, it will probably be cold and wintry until well into March. We will get our six more weeks of winter no matter what the groundhog does.
Groundhog day may have its origins in ancient times, when people celebrated the point when the sun was making significant progress in lengthening the day. It certainly has ties to various European folk customs, with the badger or bear doing the weather-predicting honours.
But mostly it is just an opportunity to be silly at a time of year when we sorely need it. There is a good reason why February is the shortest month of the year, although in 2012 it is a day longer than usual.
By February, we are well past the excitement of the holidays. We have tried out the new snowboard and skis a few times, are no longer thrilled with the new snowblower, have built one too many snowmen and cringe at the salt stains on our once-new leather boots. Our dreams seem to feature a lot of palm trees and Hawaiian music, and some of us have taken to studying seed catalogues and gardening magazines.
On the plus side, the pagans were right, you can really notice the days getting longer. That seems worthy of a celebration after months of getting up to darkness and coming home from work in darkness. Any excuse will do, even a slow-moving, hole-digging, yellow-toothed rodent.
As we down a cup of steaming coffee sweetened with something to keep the chill away, and wait for Wiarton Willie to make his prediction, we can think ahead to the next major event on our calendar – St. Valentine's Day. Seed catalogues vs chocolate – it is a tough choice. But after that comes St. Patrick's Day – seed catalogues, chocolate or green beer – choices get easier as the season progresses.
Before we know it, we will be putting away the sleds and shovels, trying to locate the fourth summer tire, and buying some of those flower seeds from the catalogue, preferably with the assistance of our Valentine's sweetheart. We will be gazing fondly at the lawn mower, and anticipating a glass of non-green beer at the end of a perfect golf game. And the sun will be warm on our shoulders.
But it starts with the groundhog.
He may not be pretty, and seems somewhat deficient in the brains and speed departments, but he has something special. Do we have a squirrel day? A raccoon day? A deer day? No. We have groundhog day. Guys in dinner jackets and silly white nose-warmers greet the little critter in Wiarton and elsewhere with poetry as the sun comes up – or not, as the case may be. Newspapers publish stories about him. Even the most skeptical among us will find ourselves keeping track of the weather over the next few weeks out of curiosity, to see if his prediction is right.
It makes a break from the seed catalogues, anyway. Here's to Wiarton Willie and all his cousins. May there be no shadows to be seen this year.