Groundhog Day actually has its roots in early Christian Europe. In Alaska, thanks to Sarah Palin, today is Marmot Day.

More critters are challenging Punxsutawney Phil for the crown of Groundhog Day prognosticator.

In his home state of Pennsylvania, he has rivals including Octorara Orphie of the Slumbering Groundhog Lodge in Quarryville, and Sammi II of Monroe County, who was pressed into service after Sammi I died of heatstroke after riding in a parade. Last year, Mel, a groundhog in Milltown, N.J., got into the act. His owner, Jerry Guthlein, is predicting a crowd of 200 in the parking lot of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post.

“We call them all impostors,” says Bill Deeley, who owns a funeral home and is president of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club’s Inner Circle, the name given to a group of businessmen from western Pennsylvania who have been using a groundhog to predict the weather since 1887. “We are the real McCoy.”

At sunup on Tuesday Mr. Deeley, in top hat and tails, will tell the world whether there will be six more weeks of winter (if Phil sees his shadow) or an early spring (if he doesn’t). As many as 35,000 visitors have come to the town of 6,700 to watch. People from out of state arrive to get married in the local chapel. This year, the Pennsylvania Department of Community and Economic Development is texting Phil’s forecast to 15,000 people who signed up for it.

It’s unclear how many less-celebrated groundhogs appear in local festivities. Mr. Deeley thinks there are more than a dozen. Many are in Pennsylvania, and for good reason. German immigrants to the state began using groundhogs to forecast the weather in the 18th century, following the tradition in Europe where the badger was used.

Photo courtesy of Kevin who’s friend REALLLLY likes Groundhog Day.