Water lust

Ever since I moved into my little house on the edge of a dry hickory-oak-beech forest, in the Eastern U.S. , I have had a strange craving.

To atone for the damage to the planet that some developer caused long ago when the place was built, I have gradually added plants and trees that can help to sustain the local wildlife.

But I recognize that food and shelter are just two of the components of animal happiness. They also need water. And until I provide water, critters will just pass on through.

I have dreamed up various schemes to provide water, including running a siphon hose from the creek far down the slope. Lack of funding has generally prevented any such plan from completion.

But about a hundred feet into the woods, on a steep slope, a very shallow spring runs, dribbling forth from a bank of earth and draining down into the creek below. Obviously, the water that feeds the spring has to come from somewhere higher up.

I wonder if it would be possible to dig around the seep spot, gradually working my way back and maybe even find the source running somewhere under my backyard, which is not far away to the north. I have my suspicions, after all, that the aforementioned developer of my neighborhood simply filled in, covered over, a few natural springs and gullies, when he made his money raping Mother Nature. In those days, some 40 years ago, there were no rules against doing that sort of thing. (There are rules now, but of course, with enough money and a good lawyer, you can still do anything you want.)

It just seems unnatural that all our back yards on this street are smooth as the top of a cake, but immediately as you leave them and walk into the woods, springs burst forth and gullies run deep.