Dear Otus,
Every Feb. 2 I watch with consternation the big fuss made over Punxsutawney Phil and his prediction of six more weeks of winter.
I can't understand how a pudgy little marmot surrounded by old geezers in top hats can make any sort of accurate weather forecast from some little burg in Pennsylvania.
Why do all the TV networks cover the annual farce live? Isn't there a better way to predict the weather for the next six weeks?
-- Alan Smithee,
Oden
Disclaimer: Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of 👉 humorous fabrication 👈 appears every Saturday.
Dear Alan,
It was wholly a pleasure to hear from you, especially since you are totally correct.
All that Punxsutawney Phil hooey is a chamber of commerce fabrication that has paid off big time for the tiny Pennsylvania community. It's fake news and you know how I hate fake news.
Every year 30,000 groundhog revelers flood the town of about 5,900 the weekend before Feb. 2 with money burning in their pockets. An estimated $14 million is spent at local hotels and eateries.
Accurate forecast? A detailed analysis by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration between 1978 and 2015 showed that there was absolutely no correlation between Phil's seeing his shadow or not and the weather for the rest of the season.
Punxsutawney Phil supporters are blatantly and egregiously employing "alternative facts" to further their agendas. That many Americans have bought into this piffle doesn't bode well for the rest of us who are more discerning.
Nonetheless, envious chambers of commerce across the country have tried to foster variations on the Punxsutawney theme where, legend has it, if the groundhog sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter.
There are a number of other prescient creatures that have been pressed into the cause. Here are a few.
• Woollybear Willy. Each year, more than 100,000 people attend the Woollybear Festival in Vermilion, Ohio, where the caterpillar predicts the weather with his stripes.
• Oscar the Cat. The feline lives at a nursing home in Providence, R.I., and not only predicts the weather, but seems to know when an elderly patient is about to depart this life. The cat is uncannily accurate.
• Staten Island Chuck. The groundhog's formal name is Charles G. Hogg and he lives at the Staten Island Zoo. Serving as the official groundhog meteorologist of New York, Chuck bit former Mayor Michael Bloomberg in 2011. It was the highlight of his career.
• Sir Walter Wally. The beaver works for the state climate office of North Carolina in Raleigh. He usually agrees with Punxsutawney Phil.
• Prairie Dog Pete. The critter lives in a burrow in Lubbock, Texas, and usually sees his shadow on Feb. 2., causing West Texas to hunker down for another month and a half.
• Bacon. The pot-bellied pig at the St. Louis Zoo has to be coaxed out of its enclosure every Feb. 2 and seems noncommittal about forecasting the weather.
• Penelope Possum. The official Feb. 2 prognosticator for Bristol, Tenn., she has somehow been correct 10 out of the last 12 years.
• Little Rock. The search continues for a suitable forecasting animal that will excite citizens to come out and support the Little Rock Zoo's annual Groundhawg (that's how they spell it) Day fundraiser.
In 2004, high hopes surrounded Suzy, an Indian labiated (sloth) bear that simply becomes increasingly slothful during the winters.
Her stint was followed in 2007 by Edward Reilly, the zoo's decidedly orange Sumatran orangutan. Reilly never did much more on Feb. 2 other than wrap himself in a light shawl and stick his tongue out.
High hopes surrounded Wally the Wombat, who was among the zoo's oldest and wisest animals when given the opportunity to forecast in 2008. Unfortunately, after only one prediction, Wally died in October that year at the venerable wombat age of 28.
The nocturnal marsupial was the last of his kind in the entire U.S. and left a void in then-new Mayor Mark Stodola's plan to challenge Punxsutawney in Groundhog Day coverage.
Next year, Stodola's plan is to somehow use the zoo's popular penguins, figuring they surely have insight into cold weather. The problem is that our black-footed penguins are from temperate southwest Africa, not Antarctica.
Until next time, Kalaka says if you have any other critter suggestions for Little Rock (other than those creepy naked mole rats) send them to [email protected].
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