The alternate groundhogs are vying for Punxsutawney Phil’s weather forecasting job

He has been described in various ways as “Orphie The Magnanimous,” a “reclusive oracle” and “world-renowned forecaster” who gives a second opinion on the coming spring every February 2nd. Just don’t call him an “alternative groundhog.” and definitive Don’t call him a stuffed, mounted groundhog with a tiny top hat and the occasional bow tie—though he is exactly that. Known to his followers as the Hibernating Governors of the Slumbering Groundhog Lodge, Octoraro Orphie is “The One True Groundhog”.

“We have a lot of trouble believing people who believe in Punxsutawney Phil,” says Charlie Hart, the current chief of the lodge in Quarryville, Pennsylvania, “the way we see it, he’s an imposter.” On groundhog day, it’s Hart’s job to climb the “Pinnacle of Prognostication” (a manure spreader) and, after consulting Orphie, give the beast’s verdict on the length of winter. How does Hart make this statement?

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Hart says, laughing.

Orphie isn’t the only four-legged weatherman offering an alternative for those unconvinced by Punxsutawney Phil’s meteorology. In Pennsylvania alone, his competition includes other groundhogs such as: Mount Joy Minnie, Grover, Poor Richard, Lawrenceville Lucy, Mt. Gretna Grady, Poppy (who appeared alongside Bill Murray in a 2020 Jeep commercial), Susquehanna Sherman, Tinicum Tim, Uni , and more.

In 2019, supporters of the groundhog Octoraro Orphie paraded through Quarryville, Pennsylvania.
In 2019, supporters of the groundhog Octoraro Orphie paraded through Quarryville, Pennsylvania. Yarvin Pennsylvania Travel/Alamy Stock Photo

“We don’t really have much in common with these other forecasters,” says JC Bell, a member of Quarryville Lodge, “other than our belief that Orphie is absolutely 100 percent correct.”

Despite the passion and light-hearted chatter of their followers, these “alternative groundhogs” didn’t emerge as a backlash against Phil or his prowess at weather forecasting. In Pennsylvania, the tradition is the groundhog hut or Grundsau Lödschis rooted in the history of Dutch culture in Pennsylvania.

“The legend of the marmot originated in Europe, even though there were no marmots there,” says William Donner, professor of anthropology at Kutztown University and author of the book Heavy nonsense: Groundhog Lodges, Congregations and Pennsylvania German Heritage. “It’s based on Candlemas, which is six weeks after Christmas and halfway between that [spring] Equinox and the [summer] solstice. It has great symbolic meaning – it commemorates Mary who brought Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem.” Historically, the holiday also celebrated the planting of crops. Over time, Candlemas evolved into a weather-foretelling event, with various animals serving as weather forecasters to determine the best time to sow the fields. According to Farmer’s Almanac, that job went to bears in France and England, while badgers did the honors in Germany.

When German immigrants to Pennsylvania tried to continue their Candlemas traditions in the 19th century, there were no badgers to be found — but marmots were in abundance. With a vacancy to fill, the newly established German communities in Pennsylvania found these lowland marmots equally employable. Punxsutawney Phil and his Groundhog Club are best known for being the first to party.

Punxsutawney Phil predicted a longer winter almost every day of the groundhog.
Punxsutawney Phil predicted a longer winter almost every day of the groundhog. Anthony Quintano/CC BY 2.0

“It was 1886 when Groundhog Day was first mentioned The Punxsutawney Spirit, which is one of the few newspapers in Punxsutawney,” says Michael Venos, creator and curator of the Countdown To Groundhog Day website. “It was maybe the next year that they actually had some sort of celebration. At the beginning of the 20th century some of these other marmot huts started appearing.”

Despite his storied origins, the legend of Phil is gullible. According to his website, Phil has been a continuous groundhog since 1887, possibly undead or otherwise immortal at age 136. (The average lifespan of the marmot in the wild is two to three years.)

“That’s their official line — that it was always the same groundhog from the start,” says Venos. “According to tradition, on Groundhog Day, they give him a sip of this juice, which is said to give him seven more years of life.”

After World War I, the marmot hut phenomenon began to overlap with efforts to revitalize the Dutch language in Pennsylvania. Today, some Groundhog Day ceremonies are held entirely in Pennsylvania German, such as Uni the Groundhog’s prediction event in Myerstown, Pennsylvania. Edwin Engle, president of the varsity lodge, Groundhog Lodge #17, has attended the varsity ceremony for 42 years. He says speaking Pennsylvania Dutch at the event helps keep the language alive. “I learned Pennsylvania Dutch from my grandfather,” says Engle. “We’ve had people bring homeschooled kids to the ceremony and tell the kids, ‘This is about your heritage — you should know that.'”

The Lodge #17 ceremony also features the unforgettable performance of Uni, a stuffed marmot named after the Union Canal, who is towed down Tuliphocken Creek in a tiny boat.

Every year, Uni the groundhog sails this little creek before making his prediction of the arrival of spring.
Every year, Uni the groundhog sails this little creek before making his prediction of the arrival of spring. Courtesy of Michael Venos

“It’s one of my favorites,” said Venos, who attended the varsity ceremony last year. “They put this dead marmot on a raft and drag it down the river. Then there’s a guy who “talks” to Uni and gives his prediction in Pennsylvania Dutch. Another then translates from Pennsylvania Dutch into English.”

The tongue-in-cheek aspect of Groundhog Day has become an integral part of these traditions. The lavish pageantry of these mostly male lodges and their fraternal ceremonies walk a fine line between false seriousness and genuine absurdity.

Take the tradition of Octoraro Orphie. In addition to performing skits and dancing a “Groundhog Jig,” newcomers to the Lodge are outfitted with full-length baby bonnets and pacifiers for their “baby year,” the Lodge’s annual initiation rite. One from each class of babies will be chosen for the baptismal honor of being “dipped” in the cool Octoraro Creek on February 2nd. “They had to break the ice in the creek” for a friend’s baby year, Bell recalls.

George “Skip” Lehman, Grand Communicator for poor Richard, a stuffed marmot in York, Pennsylvania, says newcomers to his lodge also wear bibs and baby bonnets. The devotional act that follows, however, could make the plunge into an icy creek seem like a Caribbean vacation: initiates must kiss the long-dead mouth of their stuffed and mounted prophet.

In 2015, supporters of the Octoraro Orphie marmot wear hats and pacifiers for their admission to the Slumbering Groundhog Lodge.
In 2015, supporters of the Octoraro Orphie marmot wear hats and pacifiers for their admission to the Slumbering Groundhog Lodge. Courtesy of Michael Venos

“We’re very secure and he’s sanitized,” says Lehman, a former local cable television personality. “I don’t like using the term ‘dry cleaning’, but we have it cleaned every two years. Now it doesn’t get dirty because it’s sealed in plastic. We even had a little mask on him during COVID.” Lehmann, who says funds from Poor Richard’s Groundhog Day ceremonies go to children’s charities like St. Jude Children’s Hospital and Shriners Hospitals, has demystified his prediction process — he consults the Farmer’s Almanac and local weathermen to make his forecast. “Then I read the predictions in poetic form,” he says. “Oh god, they’re cheesy.”

Pennsylvania groundhogs aren’t the only animals interfering with meteorological events either. “There is a much by forecasters, and at that point I may have as many non-groundhogs as real, live groundhogs,” says Venos, whose website compiles and tracks all Groundhog Day forecasts. “Just when I think my list is complete, I discover a new forecaster, like the Texas alligator, whose prediction is based on whether or not he eats chicken.” That alligator is 91-year-old Big Al, a 1,000- Pound specimen living in Gator Country in Beaumont, Texas.

“We’ve gone way beyond chicken at this point — he’s getting a delicious steak for dinner now,” says Arlie Hammonds, who co-owns Gator Country with Gary Saurage, an adventure park and sanctuary home to more than 450 alligators. “Whenever we groundhog, I get in the water and get him to open his mouth and I throw the steak in. In the past he spat it out,” predicting six more weeks of winter (Hammonds confirms).

In 2022, Big Al, pictured here, predicted six more weeks of winter when he spat out his steak.
In 2022, Big Al, pictured here, predicted six more weeks of winter when he spat out his steak. Courtesy of Gator Country

Similarly, in Eastford, Connecticut, supporters of Scramble the Duck view their aquatic forecaster as an “accurate alternative to groundhogs.” According to Isaac Torcellini, one of Scramble’s supervisors, “The waterfowl graduated from Stormy Heights Academy and shortly thereafter became Eastford’s weather forecasters”.

“Scramble – and all ducks – are superior to marmots for several reasons,” says Torcellini. “First, they spend time in the weather instead of hiding underground. Ducks typically play in stormy weather and also have a sense of weather patterns for migratory purposes.”

Venos and his family even added homemade sock puppet Predictors Roxbury Rita, Edgewater Elsie and Landing Lily to the lineup. Venos says he includes the “stats” of these dolls created by him and his daughters on his page.

“I actually debated whether I should add these predictions to the other ‘real’ ones,” says Venos. “But basically I don’t have a problem with that as long as I don’t slant the general predictions one way or the other. It’s a different way to enjoy the day.”

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