There were two remarkable things about watching Punxsutawney Phil’s 2007 prediction: 1) he didn’t see his shadow and therefore predicted spring’s early arrival, something he almost never does, and 2) he shrunk.

For the past several years, we’ve seen a stately, majestic Phil — in other words, huge — hauled from his stump at Gobbler’s Knob. This year, the big guy was, well, a little guy, noticeably smaller than he’s been since I’ve been paying attention to his annual appearances. Take a look at the shot on the left, from this year’s ceremony. See how the little guy fits neatly into the hand of Ben Hughes, who, along with John Griffith, is serving his first year as Phil’s handler? Compare that with the shot, over here on the right, of Phil talking with Bill Cooper a year ago; sorry, boys and girls, that Phil isn’t fitting in anybody‘s hand.

The Punxsutawney Groundhog Club’s official stance is that Phil receives a magic elixir every few years or so, a sip of which extends his life by several years. That’s enabled the one and only Phil to stay alive for the 100-plus years he’s been making his predictions on the Knob.

The Post-Gazette has gummed up the works a little bit, though, running a story today that claimed that members of the Inner Circle borrowed a groundhog — a female, no less — from a Fayette County zoo when Phil suddenly died just before the buildup to Groundhog Day 2001. The keeper said she did the Punxsutawney gig, then flew to New York for a round of media appearances and then returned to her happy life at the zoo.

The P-G said she was not available for comment; she died two years ago.

That story, along with the appearance of the newly svelte Phil on my television this morning, got me to thinking about what’s going on here. Could this be a different version of the world’s most famous groundhog? Did Phil start on the NutriSystem diet, like Mike Golic and every single other ex-football player appearing on ESPN in the last two weeks? Is he no longer eating those fabulous cheeseburgers at Nick’s Corner Lunch in Punxy?

Hmmmm.

My conclusion? We’re thinking too hard about this. The very motto of our own Fraternal Order of the Groundhog is simple, and in this case, applicable: Our significance is our insignificance. While Punxsutawney Phil provides an identity for an entire central Pennsylvania town, he’s still just a groundhog, albiet one with a pretty cool gig. Punxsutawney Phil is whichever groundhog is napping in that stump on the Knob on the morning of Groundhog Day, whether he’s big or small, male or female.

And that brings me back to the most important point of the morning. Early spring? Phil? C’mon, buddy — I’ve only been skiing twice this year.