Ep. 4: Prairie Doggin’ It (Groundhog Day Special 2020)
Prairie Doggin’ It: A Bathroom Tale for Groundhog’s Day
When most people think of Groundhog Day, they picture one of two things—Bill Murray stuck in a time loop, or a top-hat-wearing man hoisting a slightly confused marmot into the February sky to predict the weather using the time-honored method of shadow-based meteorology.
But dear reader, you're not here for weather reports or movie reviews. You're here for important bathroom-related revelations. And I, your ever-faithful bathroom correspondent, am here to deliver.
Happy Groundhog's Day! Now Let’s Talk Poop.
Yes, Groundhog’s Day is a made-up holiday. (Apologies to anyone whose birthday falls on this sacred rodent observance—I’m sure you’re lovely.) But while the shadow-checking tradition might be nonsense, the groundhog’s contribution to bathroom science is absolutely not.
Scientists—or perhaps underground dwellers with too much time on their hands—have discovered that groundhogs build toilets. Inside their intricate tunnel systems, there’s a designated poop chamber. Let that sink in: these fluffy little guys don’t just poop wherever. No, no. They have an official poop zone, separate from where they eat, sleep, and entertain guests (presumably).
Let me say that again for the people in the back:
Even groundhogs know not to poop where they sleep.
It’s called the Chamber of Leavings. (Yes, I’m trademarking that.)
Punxsutawney Phil and the Chamber of Secretions
While Punxsutawney Phil is out here pretending to be a weatherman, his relatives are lowkey the real MVPs of sanitation. Their behavior is a biological PSA: poop proximity = bad.
Humans, take note. If a rodent with dirt for walls and twigs for plumbing understands the importance of keeping feces separate, maybe it’s time to reconsider our own commitment to bathroom etiquette.
Which brings us to the not-so-distant cousin of the groundhog: the prairie dog.
And an even closer relative: the act of prairie dogging it.
Prairie Dogging: Nature’s Alarm System
If you’ve ever been miles from a bathroom, hiking, commuting, or stuck in a very long meeting, you may have met this enemy. Prairie dogging (or groundhogging, for those keeping the theme alive) is the phenomenon wherein a stubborn turd starts peeking out, only to be sucked back in by sheer willpower and panic clenching.
It’s like this:
Turd: “Hey, I think I see daylight!”
You: “NOT TODAY, LITTLE BUDDY.”
It’s a back-and-forth battle between your sphincter muscles (we won’t say the word too many times, I promise) and gravity, and friends, it's not fun.
Scientifically speaking—and I use that term loosely—your body has two main lines of defense:
Internal muscle gatekeeper
External panic clench muscle
Prairie dogging occurs when defense one slips, and the turd breaks containment, teetering in a dangerous limbo of almost freedom. You’re now in a race against time, dignity, and textile staining.
Bathroom Biology 101: Don’t Let It Linger
Why do we talk about this? Because ignoring the call of nature has consequences. Hold it in too long, and you risk constipation. Keep holding it, and you get fecal impaction. That’s when your body essentially builds a poop dam. If untreated, it can lead to intestinal damage and poop poisoning.
And to quote an old medical proverb I just made up:
A clogged colon is a sad colon.
Even the humble groundhog knows: poop belongs in a chamber far, far away from anything you love.
A Personal Prairie Dogging Tale
Let me paint you a scene: 10-year-old me, bundled like an onion in layers, sledding next to a Montana beef jerky factory. Nature called. Loudly. The visitor center with its indoor plumbing? Inaccessible. The car ride home? Long. The result? A stain and a life lesson.
Nothing—nothing—feels better than finally making it to a real toilet when your prairie dog is halfway out the tunnel.
Why didn’t I just go in the woods? It was sub-zero. Also, have you ever tried undressing a Michelin Man child in the wild while fighting off a rogue prairie dog? Not recommended.
Final Thoughts from the Privy
So this Groundhog’s Day, while you’re waiting to see if a rodent sees his shadow, take a moment to reflect on the underground toilet wisdom of the groundhog. And maybe—just maybe—ask yourself:
"Have I pooped today?"
Don’t ignore the signs. Don’t let the dog sneak out. And for the love of all that is clean, don’t prairie dog it unless absolutely necessary.
Thanks for listening (or reading) to this toilet tale. If you’ve enjoyed the ride through shadowy forecasts and poop tunnel facts, be sure to leave a rating, share it with a friend, or scream “CHAMBER OF LEAVINGS!” the next time you enter a porta-potty.
