Every Feb. 2, our good buddy Punxsutawney Phil pokes his head out of his burrow and ultimately decides whether there will or will not be six extra weeks of winter this season. How odd to think that this furry, flea-bitten rodent overrides the Weather Channel, the National Weather Service and the Doppler radar to decide whether you will be purchasing more parkas from the Burlington Coat Factory or buying a two-piece bathing suit from the Fashion Bug.

Here’s an idea. Has anyone considered not waking Phil up on Groundhog Day? By doing so, wouldn’t that alleviate the 50/50 chance of his seeing his shadow and our inevitable task of shoveling more snow from our driveways and scraping more ice from our windshields? Just a thought. 

On the other hand, there’s one group that wants to do away with the Feb. 2 tradition all together. A dark shadow has been cast on this American-born event that originated in 1886. All the fun has been eclipsed by none other than PETA, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. They feel that Phil is being put through unnecessary trauma when he is pulled from hibernation and forced to partake in the humiliating act of seeing or not seeing his shadow.

Excuse me, but every night my wife and I crawl into our burrow beneath a mountain of flannel sheets, a down comforter and a quilt. The moment my head hits the pillow I instantly enter a hibernating state. In this dormancy, my heart rate diminishes, my brain functions decrease and I become completely relaxed.

What seems to be mere seconds later, I am awakened by the horrendous noise created by FM static and modern rock. The clock alarm is set on “radio” and when it goes off at 6:45 in the morning, I am momentarily under the terrifying impression that a logging truck has veered off the road and crashed through the east wall of our bedroom. My hand instinctually flies out of the covers and slams down on the wonderful man-made creation known as “the snooze button.” Ah, five minutes more.

What seems to be milliseconds later, FM static combines with more modern rock. Let it be Saturday. Let it be Saturday, I pray. It ain’t Saturday. It ain’t even Friday. It’s Monday. It’s raining. And I’ve actually hit the snooze button three times previous. I’m late.

So where, I ask, is PETH, the People for the Ethical Treatment of HUMANS? Isn’t this cruel and severe punishment? I shouldn’t have to go through this torture almost 52 weeks of the year. Where are my rights? That gregarious groundhog up in Pennsylvania has to get up early ONCE A YEAR. Is that so tough? Is that so cruel? I don’t think so.

I am all for preventing the mistreatment of animals, but I do believe some of these activists have gone just a bit too far. A groundhog? Are you kidding?

First of all, do these people even see this creature for what he is? Where I come from, groundhogs were, and still are, big fat nuisances. They create huge burrows in farmers’ fields that can swallow an entire John Deere tractor or two Black Angus cows or all three at the same time in some instances.

Secondly, what does PETA intend to do when Phil is freed from his two minutes of hard labor per year? Are they going to release him into the wild? Why not set him loose on some tobacco farm in Buckingham? We’ll have the Buckingham County High School marching band play their rendition of “Born Free” as NPR broadcasts the big event.
Pop. Pop. Pop. What was that? Merely Farmer Brown taking aim at some pest scurrying between his tobacco rows. Wait. That’s none other than Punxsutawney Phil. Somebody forgot to tell the animal activists that groundhogs in the wild have a pretty good shot at getting shot since they are not well-liked by farmers.

I really don’t think Phil is all that unhappy. He is a national hero. He gets his picture in all sorts of magazines. I’m sure he enjoys a diet of Purina Groundhog Chow. He even has his own website. What more could a groundhog want?

I guess the Easter Bunny has rights, too, doesn’t he? Are we being cruel by creating a tradition that forces this sweet creature to deliver jellybeans and chocolate bunnies to so many children every year? His little bunny feet must hurt hopping down that bunny trail all night.

And how about Santa’s reindeer? They have bound to get tired of flying from rooftop to rooftop. I bet they’re worn out by the time Christmas morning arrives; too tired for any reindeer games for sure. How do we know Santa even treats them with respect? Do we even know if there are any sort of animal regulations at the North Pole? Maybe there is a reindeer union in which Dasher and Dancer could seek membership for the group. We can only hope.

Personally, I believe in animal rights, but come on people, let’s not go off the deep end.

Punxsutawney Phil is a groundhog. I really don’t think the tremendous amount of publicity upsets him all that much. Put your energy in other more important causes and leave my holidays alone.