Today is Groundhog Day, when groundhogs emerge from their burrows to forecast the next six weeks’ weather.
According to North American folklore, if the groundhog ventures from its den and sees its shadow, we’re in for six more weeks of wintry weather. If it’s cloudy, and the groundhog doesn’t see its shadow, we’re in for an early spring.
Right.
Nevertheless, small towns and communities across North America are looking to their odd-named rodent Nostradamuses to predict winter’s length — Punxsutawney Phil, Staten Island Chuck, Woodstock Willie, and the list goes on.
Locally, Louisianians in Iberia Parish are looking to Pierre C. Shadeaux, a nutria hailed as the “Cajun Groundhog.” If Shadeaux surfaces from his Acadian cottage to see his shadow, South Louisiana’s in for summer weather. What, then, if Shadeaux doesn’t see his shadow?
South Louisiana’s still in for summer weather.
That goes to show, of course, how nonsensical Groundhog Day is — nationally, for sure, but especially locally.
Ideally, Feb. 2 would be better marked in Louisiana as “Bobby Jindal Day,” where the state’s denizens gather around to see the oft-absent governor emerge from his hole, see his shadow cast over the state and retreat again into hiding.
That would be a more rational and relevant holiday, to be sure.
In all cases, though, Groundhog Day defies logic. Meteorologists — professional atmospheric scientists, mind you — have enough difficulty in forecasting the next day’s weather, let alone the next six weeks’ worth.
And yet, legendary Punxsutawney Phil purports to be right 100 percent of the time, according to the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club’s official web site.
There’s no way.
A Canadian study of 13 cities’ weather during the past 30 years places the accuracy of groundhogs’ predictions at 39 percent — a rate more believable.
And let’s not forget groundhogs are predictors of a 50/50 proposition. If there were any credibility to their predictions — any at all — that figure would be at least higher than 50 percent, heads or tails.
At any rate, there are those of us who accept — who live by — these animals’ powers of divination. An estimated 40,000 of these people are celebrating the holiday in Punxsutawney, Pa., as you read this, awaiting Phil’s prediction, which the rodent gives in “groundhogese” only to the leader of the “Inner Circle,” who then translates it for us.
But as unequivocally ridiculous and absurd as it all is — for all of the above — we ought to support the holiday.
It’s irrational, baseless and unjustifiable. And that’s precisely the point.
Contemporarily, society is marked by a sort of “hyper-rationality” — we’re becoming increasingly modernized, bureaucratic and secularized. Scientific understanding is more highly valued than belief, and there’s a noticeable lack of mysticism in all of us today — a “disenchantment,” as it’s called.
It’s something comparable to your perception of Christmas before and after you discovered — spoiler alert — that Santa Claus isn’t real. The entire affair loses a bit of its luster.
Bizarrely, though, Groundhog Day — and not the ubiquitous celebration of Christmas — bucks this phenomenon of disenchantment. In other words, it’s easier to wholeheartedly believe the shoddy weather forecasts of groundhogs than it is to buy the global gift-giving enterprise of Kris Kringle.
Accordingly, if Groundhog Day serves as one of the last of such celebrations — you know, the ones observed in defiance of all reason and logic — then I’m all for it. Nowadays, in the disenchanted status quo, it’s refreshingly admirable to accept as real the unreal, to assume the phony as fact.
Of course, that’s technically an endorsement of professional wrestling, too.
Here’s to prognosticating groundhogs everywhere — and Hulk Hogans.
Phil Sweeney is a 25-year-old English senior from New Orleans. Follow him on Twitter @TDR_PhilSweeney.
 
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Contact Phil Sweeney at [email protected].