The first groundhog sighting of the year will always make me remember Jimmy, the Groundhog Guy. He'd get a kick out of that ...

At first, I was just amused, but after a couple phone calls, I began to marvel. Who was this guy anyway? Like Elvis or Shaq, he needed no last name; in fact, hardly anybody even knew his last name. He was known only as Jimmy the Groundhog Guy.Jimmy Taurino lived in Philadelphia, and was a member of a hunting camp called Hawk House, Barnesville. Each member of The Hawk House has his own trophy wall, a typical mix of full mounts and antlers, fox and coyote hides and turkey tails. Along with dozens of deer racks, Jimmy's area includes a full-mount groundhog. A local farmer, Jack Schaeffer, paid for the whistle pig mount as a surprise Christmas gift for Jimmy.It was no wonder that the local farmers treasured him. During the 40 years he came to the hunting camp, Jimmy averaged 35 groundhogs a year, with a best year of 57. Jimmy's first hunting experiences were outings with his uncle, shooting groundhogs. Over the years, he shot plenty of trophy deer and bear in Pennsylvania; as he grew older, he came back to the roots of his fondest memories, hunting groundhogs.Jimmy hand-loaded all his ammo. His guns of choice for the whistle pigs were the .17 and the .222 magnum, preferring the .222 for long range. He also designed and built a special tower for hunting the groundhogs, using a landscape trailer as its basic frame. He used a vintage pair of 8 x 40 Bushnell's for glassing.The day before Jimmy came to my farm to hunt groundhogs, I'd seen him at a local wedding. A bunch of people were standing outside a local country club, waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Jimmy, wearing sunglasses a lot like the ones Clint Eastwood wore in Dirty Harry, was standing in the midst of a knot of people. I made my way over there. They were all farmers, as uncomfortable as Jimmy in their finery, all bringing Jimmy up to speed on the location and feeding schedule of their resident groundhogs.The next day, Jimmy came by my little farm. He towed the tower with his truck - he'd scoped out the spot and seen he could drive to it and didn't need his ATV. I watched him set up and then walked back to my house. I don't know how much time passed, but it wasn't long - I had let the dogs out and resettled them, made a small pot of coffee and had settled at my kitchen table with the newspaper. I thought I heard a shot. Could it be Jimmy already?A minute or two passed. Must have been my imagination, I figured. Jimmy had said he'd call if he got one. I finished with the newspaper, made a meatloaf, ran the sweeper. I was wrapping up the sweeper cord when I heard "Hey, Lisa," politely through my back door screen. It was Jimmy. "I got two," he said. He'd been out there about two hours. Perfect head shots, both of them.Jimmy passed away one year in early spring. People were gathering for his services when somebody pointed. It was really weeks too early for it, but there was a groundhog, standing, looking back at them.NOTE: Pennsylvania Woodchuck (Groundhog) hunting: Statewide, no closed season except during the regular deer firearms season. Hunting on Sundays prohibited. Remember to purchase your hunting license in mid-June.