Woodchuck 429 



The Woodchuck sleeps in complete torpor for weeks, wood- 

 But a popular superstition has it that each year, on the 2d of day 

 February, he comes out into the day. If he then sees his 

 shadow on the snow he retires for another six weeks' slumber. 

 If, on the other hand, no shadow is visible, he continues more 

 or less active until spring. 



This superstition seemingly originated among the Negroes 

 of the Eastern Middle States, and has this much of truth for 

 foundation: The Woodchuck sometimes comes out as early 

 as the first week in February. If at that time the sun shines 

 brightly on the snow, it means frosty weather, and probably a 

 late spring. On the other hand, no snow and low hanging 

 rainclouds, are evidence of an open winter, and that fosters 

 an early activity on the part of the Woodchuck. 



The spring awakening of the Woodchuck seems to have spring 

 little to do with any of the essentials by which it is supposed 

 to be guided, namely, weather and food. Merriam says:^^ 

 ''The remarkable circumstance has already been noticed that 

 the Woodchuck often retires to winter quarters, when sur- 

 rounded by an abundance of food, and during the continuance 

 of fine warm weather; but still more surprising is the fact that 

 he generally emerges from his hole and tunnels to the surface 

 while the ground is buried in snow to the depth of several feet, 

 and when no green thing is to be found upon which he can 

 feed. He not only comes to the surface, but makes long 

 journeys in various directions over the snow-covered land, and 

 is apt to continue these apparently aimless pilgrimages night 

 after night until the fast-melting snow enables him to reach 

 the much-coveted grass, which has been kept fresh and green in 

 places by its heavy covering." 



Of course this is where its great store of fat is of service. 

 Doubtless this is absorbed during the weeks of scarcity in the 

 early spring. 



The warm, bright days with greening grass come on, the 

 cold and the snow are gone, and the Woodchuck now sits at 



'* Mam. Adir., 1884, p. 242. 



