Punxsutawney Phil, who declared his candidacy for the presidency of the United States on this page last February, has conceded the election.

And has decided to pursue a career in mud wrestling, instead.

“Much cleaner line of work,” he explained to The Herald during an interview this week.

“I don't mind digging up dirt but,” he philosophized, “a groundhog's got to know his limitations and draw the line somewhere.”

Phil made that declaration of independence, attempting to draw a line in the ground where he stood, but this attempt was foiled by the accumulation of mud still slopping around from the election.

The official observance of Groundhog Day, Phil affirmed, is safe and will continue to be conducted every February 2 in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.

“Unless,” he added, throwing in a somewhat startling caveat, “there is bad weather-a cloudy day, rain, sleet or snow. That kind of thing. I don't work for the post office, you know.”

When reminded that cloudy weather on February 2 is necessary to prevent him running in terror from his shadow, ushering in six more weeks of winter, the groundhog said something about “sweetening the kitty” and “domestic commercial rights and residuals.”

Clearly, Phil's foray into presidential politics has changed his approach to the second day in February.

“My patriotic duty,” the large rodent said, ambiguously, “and I will continue to accept no PAC money to do what is best for this country. Simple cash donations are enough to cultivate affection for this great land.”

A press officer would follow up our conversation with Punxsutawney “I'm not just fill dirt” Phil with a statement noting the rich and patriotically American tradition of mud wrestling.

“The first professional mud wrestling organization was formed in Akron in the 1930s by someone trying to distract people from the fact that he was illegally killing bears,” the statement read. “And Ohio's a swing state, though not for bears, obviously.”

When questioned, subsequently, on Phil's source, the spokesman cited Wikipedia, adding that the first mud wrestling competition for women was held in January of 1938.

“To engender support,” Phil would later observe.

Of his first and last-he says-run for the White House, Phil said the campaign was a learning experience into human nature.

“I went all across the nation, met a lot of politicians running for Congress, seeking their endorsement, and I must tell you that I cannot believe a lot of them don't live in holes in the ground just like me.

“They could fling dirt and throw mud at the opposition in ways that would make the average groundhog extremely jealous,” Phil said, adding that many politicians he encountered were “just like any other groundhog, only more so.”

I told him it sounded, in some ways, like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but Phil raised a mud-covered paw and said, “No mas.”

Thus was born the sad remains of a once-promising political career, now buried beyond hope of resurrection or dreams of redemption.

The groundhog, who once launched a thousand snowy slips, turned away, leaving a trail of mud behind him.

I thought, for a moment, of following the path of soiled aspirations but thought, no, wait until February 2.

Give the man, this groundhog, his peace in the hole of his own choosing.

He deserves no less.

As do we all.