Water Witching

My son, Orion, and I were at the farm last Saturday. More work on the flower farm to be. He helped me empty the flooded well pit, so that it could be inspected. Two very knowledgeable brothers, the Ruby's, gave us their thoughts and taught us both a lot about wells.  They declined my offer of compensation.  It seems their relative, Alfred Ruby, had worked as the farm manager a very long time ago.  

As we waited for the brothers, we talked about using city water instead of the well water, and the conversation turned to water witching.  Orion jumped into his jeep and headed out the lane to pluck a utility marker flag from the ground. He carefully bent the metal stick it into an "L" shape, and told me he could locate underground water. He apparently witches for water quite often in his job to locate underground water lines when conventional methods fail.  He even carries witch sticks in his vehicle.

I had some familiarity with water witching, which is also referred to as dousing, divining, or, my very favorite, doodlebugging.  Decades ago, my father hired a water witch to search for an area to drill a well. That douser used a "Y" shaped stick.  He walked back and forth over the land until the point of the stick bent towards the earth. I was fascinated then, and was even more fascinated now.

I always assumed dousing was based on scientific principle.  As Orion lightly held the bent stick with the longest edge pointing straight ahead, he told me there is no scientific basis for dousing. My research since then confirms that.  All at once, his stick turned 90 degrees.  He scraped the sod with his boot.  He walked several feet away and repeated the same process.  Again, the stick turned.  After several more marks, he told me we had found the location of the water line.  Then, he stomped his foot once, twice, and the flag returned to its original position.  He told me the line was two feet under the ground.  By this time, I was in awe of the entire proceeding, and anxious to try it, believing everyone had the ability to witch.

To prove his point, Orion dug a hole where he had marked the sod with his boot.  Sure enough, the line was right there, 18 to 24 inches under the ground.

I begged to try dousing.  It was difficult to get the stick balanced, parallel to the ground, and lightly held, all at the same time.  But, after some coaching from Orion on positioning the stick properly, I met with success.  It is the weirdest sensation to have this stick turn in your hand for no apparent reason.  It is an uncanny experience.  Our dousing was interrupted by the arrival of the well men, so we turned our attention to the well.

I tucked the witch stick into my Suburban, determined to try it at home. I picked up the water line, gas line, downspouts, and french drain.  There is something that runs across the middle of our side yard, though I do not know what it is.  Better Half, my husband, watched, bemused, from the comfort of the patio as I slowly paced around the North Forty, witch stick in hand.  Who knows what the neighbors and passersby thought!

I took the stick to my parent's home Sunday to see if I was descended from a long line of witches.   Mom met with some success.  My brother had no trouble.  The stick danced in his hands.  He, too, was as confounded as I.  Dad had met with little success in the past, so he did not try his hand at it. My other brother pronounced us to be a bunch of kooks, sort of like the scientific community at large.

I, nonetheless, will add a new skill to my resume - Water Witch.