As I Type It

Tomorrow large herbivorous rodents, known to most of us as groundhogs, marmots, woodchucks or whistle pigs will emerge from their universally torpid state and immediately set about the technical business of shadow assessment. And yet, regardless of received data, not one of these remarkable creatures will take any opportunity to do anything beyond emptying their little bladders, stretching, and then returning to sleep for the remainder of the winter. I think they are onto something.

The quality of torpor resulting from long periods of hibernation has much to offer: total release from the crushing demand of constant endeavor, a dim state of semi-consciousness achieved without the use of dangerous drugs or mind-altering media, and most importantly, a selectively induced period of helplessness.

Sounds pretty good if you ask me, especially when one realizes that natural selection might have swapped the groundhog’s gentle ways with those of murderous South American army ants. When confronted with a mental image of several million ravenous woodchucks stripping every last shred of flesh from any unfortunate animal in their unalterable path, well, it certainly gives one pause.

Happily, however, we can look forward to a Groundhog Day like all other Groundhog Days that have preceded it. There will be no surprises, except perhaps for the last remaining Amazonian pigmy woodchuck, which will be viciously overwhelmed tomorrow and carried away by carnivorous stinging ants.