Groundhogs Contradict Each Other on Big Day

STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. (Feb. 2) -- As far as B-list celebrities go, Staten Island Chuck isn't all that famous. He lacks the powerful PR machine of Punxsutawney Phil, America's favorite groundhog, who hails from Pennsylvania. He doesn't have an Army rank and an education, like General Beauregard Lee of Georgia, who holds honorary doctorates from the University of Georgia and Georgia State in "Weather Prognostication" and "Southern Groundology," respectively. And he certainly has not been knighted, as has Sir Walter Wally of North Carolina.

No, alas, Staten Island Chuck falls rather ingloriously into the groundhog ranks alongside Buckeye Chuck of Ohio, Tutor of Michigan (who is actually a llama) and Chuckles, Connecticut's resident rodent oracle, who suffers from permanent neurological damage. In times past, Chuck has proven himself to be grumpy and irascible. Last year, he used his 30 minutes in front of the cameras to make what some interpreted as a political comment rather than a weather forecast: He bit New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg on the finger as he reached into Chuck's burrow to call him to duty.

But this Groundhog Day, Staten Island Chuck had New York's rapt attention. Residents across the five boroughs hoped he would announce an end to this bitter winter, which has held the city hostage with temperatures hovering around freezing and winds driving cold air through even the most fashionable attire. By some reports, it has been the coldest winter since the 1970s.

So as the rest of the country watched their cell phones for a text from media-savvy Punxsutawney Phil, New Yorkers were watching Mayor Bloomberg, hoping, praying that Chuck would soothsay an end to the winter's icy embrace.

"It has been a cold winter, but paying this visit to Chuck reminds us that the days are getting longer and spring will be here soon," Bloomberg said before donning thick gloves and turning to meet his former foe.

"Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," the crowed chanted. But Chuck stayed inside. "Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," the crowd grew stronger.

Finally, Chuck lumbered out of his burrow and into Bloomberg's waiting hands. Holding the groundhog in front of him like a dirty diaper, Bloomberg turned to the expectant crowd and announced, "No shadow; spring is coming."

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Chuck has predicted an early spring every year for the past 10 years.

In contrast, his pessimistic neighbor to the west, Punxsutawney Phil, has predicted an early spring only once in the past decade -- in 2007. And today, Phil offered much of the same, telling the crowd gathered on Gobbler's Knob to expect six weeks more of winter.


Staten Island Chuck was born -- much like "The Situation" of MTV's "Jersey Shore," starring a few young folks from the borough -- with another name. Officially, he is Charles A. Hogg, son of Chuck G. Hogg Sr. and Charlotte Hogg, according to the Staten Island Zoo where he lives and keeps a home office. Chuck carries the torch of a time-honored tradition that began in the 19th century in Punxsutawney, Pa., where German immigrants had introduced Candlemas, a holiday during which animals predicted whether or not winter would continue.

Chuck has been at the job for 29 years and has predicted the weather correctly 22 of those years, giving him a respectable 76 percent accuracy rate. An SILive.com poll revealed that 50 percent of people asked believed Staten Island Chuck was a more accurate weather forecaster than a trained meteorologist.

Phil, on the other hand, is right only 39 percent of the time, according to "StormTrax Weather Almanac and records dating back to 1887," a local television station in Pennsylvania reported. And, of all the weather-predicting animals in this article, only Chuckles agreed with Phil's prediction today.

This morning, under overcast skies, Staten Island Chuck gave New Yorkers one more reason to put their faith in a North American lowland mammal known sometimes as a whistle pig.

Or, as Bill Murray said it best in the movie that takes place on this day in some fictional year, "Winter, slumbering in the open air, wears on its smiling face a dream ... of spring. Ciao."