We finished building our new house on what used to be a hay field. I noticed during the building process that there was a constant wet spot right near the basement walkout. I had the foresight to lay down a pickup line and run it out away from the house. Water continues to run from that line constantly. Even last fall when we went 2 months without rain the water continued to trickle out. This amazes me because we are on top of the highest point in the area. Could this be some kind of spring?
A Natural Spring?
- Thread starter BXmark
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MarkV
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Sure sounds like a spring to me. Do you get enough flow to use it for yard or garden watering? Bet you are glad you put in the drain tile during building.
MarkV
MarkV
EdKing
Platinum Member
That definitely sounds like a spring. I would put in a small holding tank, maybe a small portable pump. You could use this water for the lawn, the garden, any new trees you decide to plant, filling a swimming pool, etc. It is always nice to have a secondary source of water for stuff like that.
Mark_in_NH
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Sounds to me like the perfect justification to buy a backhoe attachment, so you can dig down for the tank, pump, irrigation lines etc. etc.
Robert_in_NY
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That is exactly what it is by the sounds of it. On our side of RT 20 thru Sheridan, NY all the land has natural springs. I have over 100 different springs that I know of around the property and more pop up every now and then. Our pond runs year round and we also have a creek that is fed by springs runing thru the middle by our pens so we have never had to worry about water. Have you found any other springs around your property.
Harv
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When my parents first bought the property that is now my tractor playground, one of their first projects was to establish a source of water for the new house they were building. They brought in a reputable water drilling company to locate and sink a well. Their "experts" found a likely spot on the lower "flatlands" of the 42 acres and drilled away. I don't remember the exact numbers, but they gave up at some depth well over a hundred feet.
Fortunately for my dad, this company had a guarantee that said, "no water, no charge".
So they brought in more "experts" to find another spot to drill and had at it again. Pop agonized as they went even deeper this time. It was a straight dollars per foot if they struck water, and they were into a very expensive hole by now. When his wallet started glowing red hot, he ordered the drilling stopped, again, paid them the minimum "thanks for trying" fee, and they left, saying the property just plain didn't have a viable water source.
Turns out my dad had been shunning the neighbors who had been highly recommending a "dowser", a local legend in the area. My dad was never a big believer in legends, and certainly knew that dowsers were about as credible as witches, but at this point he was desperate.
So this old (and I do mean old) fella shows up the next day with his favorite dowsing stick (a simple forked branch of a tree) that looked like it had some mileage on it. Rolling his eyes all the way, Pop followed the ol' geezer around the property. Around and around. The guy just shook his head when he "tested" the holes that had been drilled. "Dunno why they'd drill h'yar", he mumbled.
This went on for a while and then -- twitch! The stick picked a direction! An unlikely direction fer sure, 'cuz it quickly led him to and up a hill. Not a wimpy little hill, mind you, a real climbing type of hill that went on for quite some ways. My dad was huffin' and puffin' to keep up with the ol' codger now, but the guy was quite sure he was onto something. Just before they reached the peak, ducking and clawing through trees and bushes, the dowser dude breaks out, just into a flat clearing, walks to the base of what little hill remained above them and stabs the stick into the ground.
"There be good water h'yar!", sez Mr. Legend. My dad, catching his breath, looks around and admires what is probably the most commanding view available on the property. "Great!", says Pop. "There's no way in heck we can get a drilling rig up here, even if there really is water down there."
"Ya won't need no drill for this water", chuckles the cocky water wizard. "Got a shovel?" My dad rolls his eyes, thinks seriously about booting the guy off the property, and then remembers that all the neighbors would hear about it, so he reluctantly leaves the dowser there and spends the next half hour walking a more leisurely route back to where he kept a few garden tools, and even managed to scrounge up two beers to bring back.
When he arrived again at the dowser site, the old guy was just kicking back, sitting on the side of the hill with a piece of straw sticking out of his teeth and looking so content it was almost worth a picture. "Gimme a minute to rest and I'll do the digging", says Pop. "You rest and I'll dig", the overly cheerful ol' coot says. So Pop popped his beer open, sank to the ground and settled in to see how long this grampa would last before it was his turn. /w3tcompact/icons/eyes.gif
The fella knew his way around a shovel, and within a few minutes had opened a good-sized hole, not down but at about a 45-degree angle into the base of the hill. My dad froze with a mouthful of beer when he noticed the dirt being taken out was turning into mud! /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif A minute or two later and there was water running across the flat and down the hill. /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif "Now where's my beer?", gloated the dowser.
That dang hilltop spring ran strong for about 10 or 12 years, and supplied water to the house, the gardens (with the help of several holding tanks) and whatever else needed it. My dad was chagrined and delighted at the same time. It was so high up on the property that water pressure was pretty darned good. It slowed down a little towards the end of each summer, but it never stopped until that gawdawful drought hit some years back. For some reason it didn't start up again when the rains returned, but by that time the local drillers had some pretty good technology and sank a righteous well quite close to the house. They had to go deep (maybe 200 feet?), but this time they knew it was there. Good thing, too, 'cuz apparently the ol' dowser had passed on by then.
[Epilog] (This did turn into a novel, didn't it?
)
Last year, my first year with the tractor, I cleared the old fire trail all the way back to that hillside spring -- it's running again!
True story.
Fortunately for my dad, this company had a guarantee that said, "no water, no charge".
Turns out my dad had been shunning the neighbors who had been highly recommending a "dowser", a local legend in the area. My dad was never a big believer in legends, and certainly knew that dowsers were about as credible as witches, but at this point he was desperate.
So this old (and I do mean old) fella shows up the next day with his favorite dowsing stick (a simple forked branch of a tree) that looked like it had some mileage on it. Rolling his eyes all the way, Pop followed the ol' geezer around the property. Around and around. The guy just shook his head when he "tested" the holes that had been drilled. "Dunno why they'd drill h'yar", he mumbled.
This went on for a while and then -- twitch! The stick picked a direction! An unlikely direction fer sure, 'cuz it quickly led him to and up a hill. Not a wimpy little hill, mind you, a real climbing type of hill that went on for quite some ways. My dad was huffin' and puffin' to keep up with the ol' codger now, but the guy was quite sure he was onto something. Just before they reached the peak, ducking and clawing through trees and bushes, the dowser dude breaks out, just into a flat clearing, walks to the base of what little hill remained above them and stabs the stick into the ground.
"There be good water h'yar!", sez Mr. Legend. My dad, catching his breath, looks around and admires what is probably the most commanding view available on the property. "Great!", says Pop. "There's no way in heck we can get a drilling rig up here, even if there really is water down there."
"Ya won't need no drill for this water", chuckles the cocky water wizard. "Got a shovel?" My dad rolls his eyes, thinks seriously about booting the guy off the property, and then remembers that all the neighbors would hear about it, so he reluctantly leaves the dowser there and spends the next half hour walking a more leisurely route back to where he kept a few garden tools, and even managed to scrounge up two beers to bring back.
When he arrived again at the dowser site, the old guy was just kicking back, sitting on the side of the hill with a piece of straw sticking out of his teeth and looking so content it was almost worth a picture. "Gimme a minute to rest and I'll do the digging", says Pop. "You rest and I'll dig", the overly cheerful ol' coot says. So Pop popped his beer open, sank to the ground and settled in to see how long this grampa would last before it was his turn. /w3tcompact/icons/eyes.gif
The fella knew his way around a shovel, and within a few minutes had opened a good-sized hole, not down but at about a 45-degree angle into the base of the hill. My dad froze with a mouthful of beer when he noticed the dirt being taken out was turning into mud! /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif A minute or two later and there was water running across the flat and down the hill. /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif /w3tcompact/icons/shocked.gif "Now where's my beer?", gloated the dowser.
That dang hilltop spring ran strong for about 10 or 12 years, and supplied water to the house, the gardens (with the help of several holding tanks) and whatever else needed it. My dad was chagrined and delighted at the same time. It was so high up on the property that water pressure was pretty darned good. It slowed down a little towards the end of each summer, but it never stopped until that gawdawful drought hit some years back. For some reason it didn't start up again when the rains returned, but by that time the local drillers had some pretty good technology and sank a righteous well quite close to the house. They had to go deep (maybe 200 feet?), but this time they knew it was there. Good thing, too, 'cuz apparently the ol' dowser had passed on by then.
[Epilog] (This did turn into a novel, didn't it?
Last year, my first year with the tractor, I cleared the old fire trail all the way back to that hillside spring -- it's running again!
True story.
toddwulf
Silver Member
Harv, What a great story. It's generational with you being the second. Have fun, build a shrine up there for your old man and the dowser!
s1120
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<font color=red>build a shrine up there for your old man and the dowser!
</font color=red>
Ya, and have a beer in there honor./w3tcompact/icons/grin.gif
</font color=red>
Ya, and have a beer in there honor./w3tcompact/icons/grin.gif
RichZ
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Great story, Harv!!!/w3tcompact/icons/smile.gif
TBone
Platinum Member
Great story Harv. I am convinced that some of the old ways that people make fun of really work.
TBone
TBone