Few films are as synonymous with their lead actor as Groundhog Day (1993) is with Bill Murray. The dark comedy, directed by Harold Ramis, has become a cultural touchstone, celebrated for its existential wit and Murray’s signature deadpan charm. But behind the film’s polished humor lies a chaotic production story that even the most dedicated fans might not know: Murray was bitten—twice—by the film’s notoriously temperamental groundhog, leading to on-set frustrations and a now-legendary question from the actor: “Who the hell trained this gopher?!”
As the film approaches its 31st anniversary, the tale of Murray’s fraught encounters with his furry co-star offers a hilarious, behind-the-scenes glimpse into the challenges of working with wild animals—and how those hurdles inadvertently mirrored the movie’s themes of repetition and resilience.
A Comedy of Errors: The Groundhog’s Reign of Chaos
Groundhog Day follows Phil Connors (Murray), a cynical weatherman trapped in a time loop reliving the same day in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Central to the plot is the town’s annual Groundhog Day ceremony, where a groundhog named Punxsutawney Phil predicts the arrival of spring. For authenticity, the production team cast a real groundhog—though not the actual Punxsutawney Phil, who was deemed too valuable to transport. Instead, they enlisted a stand-in named Scooter, whose on-screen charm belied his off-screen antics.
From the start, Scooter proved to be a handful. Groundhogs, also known as woodchucks, are not domesticated animals. They’re skittish, territorial, and prone to biting when stressed—a fact Murray learned the hard way.
“Who the Hell Trained This Gopher?!”: Murray’s First Bite
The first incident occurred during a scene where Murray’s character reluctantly holds the groundhog for a photo op. Scooter, overwhelmed by the lights and crew, latched onto Murray’s thumb mid-take. “It wasn’t a nibble—it was a full-on chomp,” recalled a crew member. Murray, known for his improvisational wit, reportedly ad-libbed his pained reaction, muttering, “This is not a good sign,” before breaking character to ask, “Who the hell trained this gopher?!”
The question became an instant punchline on set, but the situation was no laughing matter. Groundhogs have sharp incisors capable of breaking skin, and Murray’s injury required first aid. Animal handlers scrambled to soothe Scooter, whose stress levels were compounded by the film’s tight schedule. “We had to shoot around his moods,” said cinematographer John Bailey. “Some days he’d cooperate; others, he’d just hiss and burrow into Bill’s jacket.”
Take Two: The Second Bite and Mounting Tensions
If the first bite was a warning, the second was a full-blown revolt. Days later, during a close-up of Murray cradling Scooter, the groundhog—agitated by repeated takes—sank his teeth into the actor’s hand again. This time, Murray’s frustration boiled over. “He stormed off set, demanding to know why they couldn’t just use a puppet,” a production assistant shared. “Harold [Ramis] had to talk him down, reminding him that realism was key.”
The crew faced a dilemma: Scrapping the live groundhog would mean costly delays and rewrites, but continuing risked further incidents. In a compromise, handlers began using multiple groundhog doubles to share the workload, though Scooter remained the primary “actor.” Meanwhile, Murray developed a begrudging respect for his co-star’s unpredictability. “Bill started calling him ‘Brando’ because he was such a method actor,” joked co-star Andie MacDowell.
The Groundhog Whisperer: Behind the Scenes with Scooter’s Trainer
The task of managing Scooter fell to veteran animal trainer Steve Martin (no relation to the comedian), whose résumé included working with creatures on Beethoven and Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. Martin later admitted that groundhogs were among the most challenging animals he’d ever worked with. “They’re not like dogs or cats. You can’t reward them with treats because they’ll just hoard them and ignore you,” he explained.
Instead, Martin relied on patience and environmental control. He built a temperature-regulated enclosure for Scooter on set, minimized loud noises, and used positive reinforcement—like gentle stroking—to coax cooperation. Still, progress was slow. “We’d rehearse a scene 20 times, and maybe get one usable take where Scooter didn’t bolt or bite,” Martin said.
The crew also employed creative workarounds. For wide shots, they used a stuffed groundhog, and for scenes requiring “action,” a remote-controlled puppet filled in. But close-ups demanded the real deal, leaving Murray at Scooter’s mercy.
Method Acting Meets Method Biting: Murray’s Reluctant Bond
Despite the setbacks, Murray’s comedic genius turned the chaos into gold. His exasperated interactions with Scooter infused Phil Connors’ growing desperation with authenticity. “The bites added a layer of genuine irritation that you can’t fake,” Ramis noted in a 2005 interview. “Bill’s frustration with the groundhog mirrored Phil’s frustration with his loop—it was meta.”
Over time, Murray and Scooter developed a truce of sorts. The actor began arriving early to sit near the groundhog’s enclosure, speaking to him in a calming tone. “It was like he was negotiating with a tiny, furry union rep,” laughed a crew member. While Scooter never became affectionate, his outbursts lessened—enough to complete filming.
Legacy of the “Groundhog Day” Bites
Today, the bites are enshrined in Hollywood lore, a testament to the unpredictability of animal actors. Scooter retired from film after Groundhog Day, living out his days at a wildlife sanctuary. Murray, meanwhile, has leaned into the anecdote, recounting it with a mix of horror and humor during interviews. “That groundhog was my first method co-star,” he quipped on Late Night with David Letterman. “He didn’t break character once.”
The incidents also underscore the film’s deeper themes. Much like Phil Connors, Murray was forced to adapt to relentless, uncontrollable repetition—in his case, takes ruined by a rebellious rodent. The parallel isn’t lost on fans. “Every time Phil gets bitten, it’s a reminder that life doesn’t care about your plans,” observed film critic Dana Stevens. “You just have to roll with it.”
The Groundhog Day Paradox: Chaos as Art
Groundhog Day’s production struggles didn’t end with Scooter. The film famously faced script revisions, budget constraints, and scheduling conflicts with Murray’s notoriously mercurial behavior. Yet, these very challenges forged its magic. The friction between Murray’s sharp wit and Ramis’ structured direction created a tonal balance that resonated with audiences.
Similarly, Scooter’s antics forced spontaneity into a film about rigid routine. His bites became accidental metaphors for the unpredictability of existence—a theme that’s kept Groundhog Day relevant for decades.
Conclusion: Embracing the Chaos
Three decades later, Groundhog Day remains a masterclass in finding meaning through repetition—both on-screen and off. For Bill Murray, the bites were a trial by animal, a humbling reminder that even Hollywood icons aren’t immune to nature’s whims. Yet, like Phil Connors, he emerged wiser, funnier, and oddly grateful for the ordeal.
As Murray later reflected: “That groundhog taught me more about comedy than any human ever could. Sometimes, you just have to let the wild things take a bite out of you.”