Editorial -- Only his shadow knows

How global warming plays into this season’s long stretch of mild weather, followed by a recent return to the deep freeze, is hard to determine. 

One thing for sure is that the meteorologists on the evening news are bored with our snow-less winter. All that high-tech forecasting equipment is sitting idle; there’s just not much to see on the old Doppler radar. 

Down in Gobbler’s Knob, Pa., Punxsutawney Phil continues his peaceful hibernation, but his rude awakening and annually anticipated long-range forecast comes Friday, Groundhog Day. 

Phil needs no Doppler radar, no computer models to make his winter weather predictions. 

But whether or not the fuzzy prognosticator sees his shadow and heads back into his hole to finish his long winter’s nap, we hearty New Englanders know there will be at least six more weeks of cold weather and precipitation — be it rain or snow, sleet, or ice.

That’s what winter’s all about up here (now that it finally has arrived), like it or leave it for warmer climes.

Punxsutawney Phil has the right idea when he takes shelter and slips into an essentially comatose state for the long winter season. Hibernation for the groundhog is more than a deep sleep; the animal’s body temperature drops, its heart slows and breathing nearly stops. Imagine the rude awakening the poor creature must endure to keep up tradition each February, being pulled abruptly from his slumber and thrust out in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of nosy pokes calling for his forecast.

If Phil — whose celebrity status has reached new heights in the last decade thanks to Bill Murray and Andie McDowell’s movie hit — could speak, his message would be frank and curt. Something along the lines of “Baby, it’s cold outside. I really can’t stay” as he scampers back into his burrow.

According to groundhog.org, the official website of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, the traditional observance of Groundhog Day goes back many years and crosses many cultural lines. While a popular tradition in America dating back nearly 120 years, the occasion has European roots and is tied to Candlemas Day — an observance in which the clergy blessed candles and distributed them to people marking a milestone in the winter. The weather on that day was significant in telling what lay ahead. 

“If Candlemas Day is bright and clear,

There’ll be twa (two) winters in the year.” 

During their conquest, the Roman legions brought the traditions to the Teutons — aka the Germans — who filled out the story considerably. The Germans concluded that if the sun shone on Candlemas Day, a hedgehog, an animal common to the area, would cast a shadow thus predicting six more weeks of bad weather — or “the second winter” alluded to in the Scottish rhyme.

Pennsylvania’s early settlers were primarily Germans, known to many as the Pennsylvania Dutch. While hedgehogs were scarce, indigenous groundhogs were plentiful and close enough to the real deal. Those early settlers determined the groundhog was a sensible, intelligent animal and believed if the sun did appear Feb. 2, the wise rodent would see its shadow and hurry back underground to wait out another six weeks of winter. It was good advice for both man and beast.

These were, of course, the days before Doppler radar ruined reliable forecasting and upstaged Phil and other trusted groundhog weather sources. 

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