EARLY SPRING?: GIRARDEAU GEORGE SEES NO SHADOW

Spring is on its way.

Girardeau George is back, and anyone traveling Route W between Kingshighway and the Humane Society of Southeast Missouri shelter Tuesday morning may have observed the hairy little rodent scampering about the field that surrounds his home.

George had reason to scamper, climb on a log and nibble on some nuts. He didn't see his shadow, so spring will soon arrive.

Folklore has it that on Groundhog Day, if a groundhog emerges from his winter slumber and sees his shadow, he will go back into his burrow to another six weeks of winter.

But if George or some of his relatives -- Punxsutawney (Pa.) Phil; Gen. Beauregard Lee of Yellow River Game Ranch in Lilburn, Ga.; or Chester of the St. Louis Zoo -- do not see their shadows, spring is just around the corner.

Punxsutawney Phil is the most famous of the groundhog crowd. Phil and his ancestors have been involved in the weather-forecasting business for more than a century, and people the nation over await his annual prediction.

Girardeau George became Southeast Missouri's best-known groundhog from the early 1970s to the mid-1980s. After handing out predictions for more than a decade, he took a woodchuck sabbatical before returning to issue his predictions once again in the mid-1990s.

George's impending return was revealed in 1995 by an anonymous note from George (or one of his clan) that was forwarded to this writer.

Most of the time George and Phil don't enter early-spring predictions: Over the years, both George and Phil have predicted six more weeks of winter more than 90 percent of the time.

This year, however, all of the "big-name" Marmota Monax (groundhogs) remained topside for a while.

Thousands of winter-weary people waiting through a rainy night were rewarded early Tuesday when Phil didn't see his shadow.

It was the same cheery news at Lilburn, Ga., where Gen. Lee came out of his small mansion at 7:34 a.m. and failed to see his shadow.

George didn't enjoy the fanfare of his better-known ancestor, Phil. George made his lonely Groundhog Day debut to a crowd of one reporter under cloudy skies. But then George never sees a crowd along Route W.

"Somebody driving by in a car may see me," he said. "But where are all the TV cameras and the newspaper photographers? You're the only one I ever see here. Where's the cast of cheering thousands?"

George may not draw the crowd, but he made his appearance anyway.

"You watch, you just watch, you'll see me," he said. "I may just peep out, see some sun and jump back into my hole."

But he remained topside Tuesday.

George posed the same questions he has asked for years.

"Who thought up all this groundhog business anyhow? Don't you people have anything better to do than to go around pestering furry little forest creatures?"

Groundhogs aren't the only weather prognosticators. Last year a St. Louis pot-bellied pig named Bacon filled in for Whistler, a groundhog who died at the St. Louis Zoo the year before. But the zoo replaced Whistler with a new groundhog this year, Chester.

And, of course, all those little woolly worms made their predictions months ago.

Groundhogs have been in the weather prediction business for 117 years.

The Punxsutawney legend was born in 1882 at Philadelphia, and each year when Phil delivers his verdict on Feb. 2, it is dutifully recorded and reported on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives and noted in the Congressional Record.

In centuries past, many people believed that animals had an uncanny ability to predict the weather. The Germans and English observed that hibernating bears and badgers sometimes began to stir around this time of year, and they hoped it was a sign of better weather to come. Many farmers today keep watch on cows, which seem to head for the barn before a storm.

The groundhog gained the honor of making the "official" prediction of spring in this country. Feb. 2 was selected as the perfect day for predictions because it falls halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. That date, even before the days of groundhog forecasting, has long been celebrated in folk culture as the day to turn backs on winter and begin looking forward to spring.

George's prediction hasn't made it to the White House yet. Maybe that is the reason he gave up weather prognosticating a few years ago. But he's back ... and who knows? Perhaps in future years George's forecast may be placed before the Missouri Legislature.