He has a day named after him, Groundhog Day, which was Monday. A very funny movie was made in his honor. Celebrations ensue each year. The news media get caught up in the hoopla. Frowny-faced curmudgeons protest, but on the partying goes.

It is into this world that the legendary reptile Mojave Max will emerge from his hidey-hole.

Someday. Soon. Probably. We expect.

Or so the scientists contend.

"If there was a day for it to happen, I'd say this would be a good day to come out of the hole," said Daniel Essary, a scientist with a Bill Murray-like existence this time of year.

Essary, who works at the Desert Tortoise Conservation Center, where Max lives, was exaggerating; Monday was probably too early for Max to emerge.

Max, the famous desert tortoise who serves as a Clark County mascot of sorts, lives in the ground from about Halloween each year until spring. He's staying at the conservation center, near Mountain's Edge in the far southwest valley, because his regular home at Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is being renovated.

When he comes out depends on a few things. An internal clock. Flowers, maybe. Temperature and sunlight.

Which is where the Groundhog Day connection comes in.

Ten years ago, Clark County officials started pushing Max as an alternative to the eastern groundhog. He is better, they contended, at alerting us busy humans to the onset of spring.

There is no shadow involved. No silliness. Just some scientists and a hole.

When Max comes out, it's springtime. Before that, it is winter. This usually happens in March or April.

This publicity stunt -- and everybody knows that's what it is -- has an educational element. Schoolchildren have been recruited to guess when Max will come out. The student with the closest guess wins a prize.

This contest allows conservation officials to push their message, namely that Max, part of a threatened species, matters in the whole scheme of things.

The contest and educational campaign has been such a success, said Christina Gibson with the county, that it's been replicated in California with that state's own version of Max.

(Some astute readers might be saying to themselves right about now, "Hey. Didn't Mojave Max die last year?" In fact, he did. A new, younger, handsomer tortoise with an inspiring backstory took his place.)

So anyway, it is one of Essary's jobs to drive his 4x4 out to Max's habitat every day. He peeks into the hole where Max lives to make sure he's still living there.

When Max emerges, the scientist will record the event for the schoolchildren's contest.

Which could be any day now. Today, for example. Or Wednesday. Maybe Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Monday ...

The scientist will repeat himself, every day, for as long as necessary.

Contact reporter Richard Lake at rlake@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0307.