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| A groundhog outside the workroom's window last summer, happily chowing down on my flowers…not only enjoying the good eats, but doubtless insuring himself ample energy stocks that he might awaken on this important date to perform his duty to all mankind by foretelling the beginning of the coming spring. |
Today is Groundhog's Day—also my cousin Nelda's birthday, a fact which amused me no end as a kid, and which I never fail to bring up whenever I get the chance.
For the long ago Irish, today was Imbolc, which marked the commencement of lambing time and ushered in spring. The day was represented by the mythological goddess Brigid, symbolized as a fair-haired maiden who brings new life and light to the season. A festival was held each Imbolc. During this celebration, one of Brigid's duties was to foretell the shape and mood of the new spring, including weather.
Prophet animals have been casting the future since ancient times. Brigid depended on emerging snakes. Other cultures employed everything from bears to otters to badgers, wolves to hedgehogs. They theorized that if you watched one of these winter-sleeping critters—usually a hibernator—awaken on Candlemas Day*, whether they subsequently chose to remain awake or go back to sleep would determine winter’s duration.
(*Today is also Candlemas, commemorating Mary’s presentation of the baby Jesus at the Temple. According to Mosaic law, this symbolic redemption of the child and the mother’s simultaneous purification, was to occur forty days after a son’s birth. At the Temple gates, an old man, Simeon, recognized the child as Israel’s Messiah, and “a light to lighten the Gentiles.”)
Our woodchuck of Groundhog Day fame is simply North America’s version. If the awakened groundhog sees his shadow, there’ll be six more weeks of winter; if not, spring is right around the corner.
It has been bright and sunny here all day. Plenty easy for even a squint-eyed rodent to spot their shadow—and a good day for the prognosticating critter to be giving himself a good airing out. Granted, it's not so warm as yesterday or the day before—both of which hit the 60˚F mark; an unseasonable miracle! But we've already made a still not-too-shabby 47˚F, and with any luck at all ought to top 50˚F before the day's rise has ended.
Six more weeks of winter? Maybe. One should never count their chickens before they've hatched—or proclaim winter over until it's run its course. But I believe the worst winter will do is bluster a bit for the next few weeks.
Who ya gonna believe…me or a drowsy whistlepig?
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18 comments:
Canada's 2 groundhogs Nova Scotia’s Shubenacadie Sam and Ontario’s Wiarton Willie both failed to see their shadows-so we Canucks will have a early spring. Yahh!!!!you had to have your own personal one eh?he is a very cute hog.
AfromTO…
My personal whistlepig lives under a huge old mulberry tree in the back yard, but also maintains a second residence in a den below the drive—which is handier to the tender eats in my windowside flower beds.
I say we're having an early spring.
Well, Scribe, you actually imparted some information that makes this day palatable to me. See, as one living in central PA, every year we are blithered with the silliest of local stories about the various groundhogs who carry geographically alliterative names (Octarora Orky, etc.).
I cringe--mostly because I find local reporting to be woeful. But your information puts Groundhog day into a setting of folklore that actually shines some light on why we carry on these silly traditions.
KGMom…
Brigid eventually came into the church as St. Brigit. So, following their evening meal on February first, Candlemas Eve, an Irish Catholic family would traditionally weave several distinctive St. Brigit’s crosses. They used wheat straws, reeds, thick grass stems, or rushes, first soaked in water to make them pliable, and a bit of string for tying the ends—making sure to employ at least 28 straws, one for each day of the month, in their construction.
For household protection, a finished cross would be hung over each outside door, plus one over each child’s bed, remaining there throughout the year.
Now consider this old verse:
"If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,
Winter will have another flight;
But if Candlemas brings clouds and rain,
Winter will not come again."
Remind you of anything? How about the supposed weather prognostications of a certain furry rodent?
Imbolc, divination via animals, Irish mythology, assimilation of certain traditions into the church, Brigid, St. Brigit, Candlemas, Groundhog's Day…it's all tied up in one strange ball of details that, at first glance, you'd never understand as being related or having such an ancient history.
Oh, I'm going with you, Grizz. Having spent my career in Washington, I have seen many drowsy whistlepigs in action, and most have proven themselves to be highly unreliable.
I'm thinking the drowsy whistlepig is so dazed by being dragged out that he does not know or care if it's sunny or not. He just want's to go back to 'sleep'.
For that reason and my own, I'm voting with you.
(And thank you for teaching me a few things....)
George…
I feel better already with such solid support.
One difference between me and those Washington whistlepigs…I'll tell you when I'm wrong, and I won't be lifting your wallet while I talk.
Robin…
Thank you. They way I see it, they're just not the animal for the job. They've been asleep since Halloween. Haven't got a clue what's been going on outside their den. They live alone, don't mix or play well with others. And they're kinda doofy looking. We have tons of guys with post-graduate degrees and a million dollars' worth of high-tech equipment, and they can't tell the weather 24 hours hence half the time. What can a groundhog possibly know about weather a month-and-a-half from now? I might believe a coyote. Maybe a raven. (In Ohio, it would have to be a crow.) But a short-tailed, saggy baggy rodent that waddles when he walks and reminds me a little too much of certain geezers? Nah. I got as good a chance of calling it right—plus a bigger brain, access to the Internet, and I'm at least partially awake every day.
You any day Grizz because I always want the good news about winter at this time of the year!
I had never seen a picture of a groundhog before and there are two in blogland today. I must say that they look rather cuddly creatures but not sure how I would view them if they ate my garden plants.
Personally, I am listening to the trees. My maple have very red twigs and tiny little buds. Oh, and the sap is flow for syrup.
Weaver…
Don't know how far my augury powers extend (quite possibly no farther than my own mind) but you're welcome to cast your lot with me and the rest of my groundhog-rejecting flock. From what I've heard on the news, I guess you're having the winter we've missed, so I'm sure you're ready for an early spring.
Groundhog, woodchuck, whistlepig, (so-called because when alarmed, they'll stand upright and give a quick, piercing whistle before diving into their hole) probably most closely resemble marmots or perhaps a beaver, though their fur is lighter in color and not so luxurious or water-resistant, and woodchucks also lack a beaver's broad, flat tail, having only a stubby, "shaving brush" sort of tail. The average adult groundhog weighs maybe 10-15 pounds, but I've seen a few huge individuals that would go 30 pounds; that's certainly not the norm, however.
Groundhogs are cute, in a goofy sort of way, and if you get one when they're really young, they can make a pretty good pet. They're really not the brightest critter in the yard, though, and don't do much else beyond eat green veggies and sleep. And they eat a lot—a single groundhog can wreak havoc in your garden, not to mention the holes they tunnel which is dangerous for livestock, and can cause a tractor to overturn, too. Many farmers hereabouts are at near-constant war with these prolific critters.
I always think a groundhog would have been a perfect addition to Kenneth Grahame's stories—fitting into the cast of characters somewhere between Badger and Ratty, and living in a burrow in the meadow between the River and the Wild Woods.
Deus…
I understand your reasoning with the trees, and it's hard to not put too much stock in a swamp maple with reddening buds. But trees are optimists; they get fooled fairly often. How many times have you seen apple trees, peach or pear, bloomed like gangbusters, only to have it snow all over their parade? That's how expected big crops turn into duds…sometimes so bad that not a single fruit is produced for that year.
Maples and sap are a bit different, of course. But I tend to think of them more as instruments measuring current conditions rather than oracles of the future. Sap turns on and off—running good one day, not much the next, heavy, light, on, off. A good sugarin' season can come in one fell swoop, or in starts and stutters—at least that's been my experience.
Still, the red maples are starting to blush here. Haven't yet seen any fox squirrels cutting twigs to lap sugar water, but they'll figure things out pretty soon. I may go out later, after the sun has warmed things a bit, drill a little hole in a sugar maple with my pocket knife, whittle out a toothpick-size spile and insert it in the hole, and see how well the flow is going. I'm betting it's running here, too. Whether it keeps running is the question.
Anyway, I guess you're saying your maples and I agree on an early spring—right? I'm good with that.
Must be the same critter that nibbled on all my cantaloupes last summer - even carried them away-- and feasted on all my cherry tomatoes. Judith
Judith…
Maybe, but he ate pretty well around the cottage. Don't know if he needed to go up the road for a meal. You might have your own groundhog.
It's certainly blustering a bit here - we have sub zero temps and 3 inches of snow on the ground!
Rowan…
Not much winter here, really—at least so far. A few really cold days, a couple of snows, and the rest truly unseasonably warm weather. Driving in a few minutes ago, I noticed that my neighbor up the road has big patches of snowdrops and winter aconites about to bloom, if they didn't bloom today.
Regarding your answer to Deus... I want to come to your house, sit at your feet.... and learn. You know so much that I want to learn. Quiet things....
Robin…
I have long, though accurately, referred to myself as a "fount of useless information."
I've always been interested in a lot of things. The way I deal with most anything in my life, including things that interest me, is to read extensively about whatever the subject happens to be. And so I do that, read, read, read, and I can't help but learn a small percentage of that information. (I forget way more than I retain.) The problem is, my curiosity seldom takes me down a path of any practical value. So while I can tell you what sounds like a lot about the origins of Groundhog Day, all that info and about four bucks might buy you a good cup of coffee.
I know the difference between how to sharpen a knife and how to sharpen an axe…and why there is a difference. I can show you where the long-extinct woodland bison herds onces crossed the Ohio river. I can tell you the story of John Swift and his fabulous silver mine, "lost" somewhere in the rugged lanscape of eastern-Kentucky, and take you to within a few miles of where that hidden mine is supposed to be. I know and have witnessed the Brown Mountain Lights. I can relate the long mythology and herbal use of ginseng or blue sailors or sassafras. If you're wondering where the expression "dead as a doornail" came from, and what it means, I can tell you. But I can barely operate a computer, couldn't repair my pickup if you held a gun to my head, and have no idea who won the last World Series…or who even played.
I'm pretty useless in today's world. An interesting conversationalist, perhaps, and pretty good raconteur, but of little value beyond idle entertainment. And you know the worst part? I'm perfectly happy to be this way and would do it all over again exactly the same if I had the chance. I'm incorrigible, unrepentant, archaic, idiosyncratic, and doubtless more than a bit peculiar.
However, in the misguided belief that others must find this useless information equally riveting, I'm usually just bursting to babble any of this drivel to anyone who'll listen.
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