Last of the water witches? At 33 years young, Scott Hemmer walks Nebraska farmland, waiting on the soft twitch of brass rods held in his hands.
“Right here,” he says, pointing to the ground. “About a 450’ down and 1,000 gallons per minute. Drill here.”
The ancient art of water dowsing still lives in Cornhusker country. Hemmer claims the gift—an ability to sense and feel the pull of water in the bowels of the earth.
“All the old settlers who built this country and all the farmers without modern technology believed in witching, and they depended on it to survive.”
Wells, water lines, septic tanks, and forgotten graves, Hemmer witches them all. X marks the spot.
“It’s entirely real,” he contends. “Come see for yourself.”
Damn Near Spot-On
Since the first light of recorded history, dowsing has been the go-to location tool across continents and cultures. Whether using a y-shaped stick, pendulum, metal rods, wires, or a variety of other devices, dowsers have sought the underground location of liquids, minerals, dead bodies, lost valuables, and far more.
In Hemmer’s case, he uses L-shaped 1/8” brass rods—12” long with 4” handles. “From steel to copper to willow branches, people use all different kinds of dowsing rods. When I’ve had nothing else to rely on, I’ve even ripped the flag off utility markers and used the wires.”
On a clear November day in east-central Nebraska’s Platte County, Hemmer dowses a small tract of farmland in search of a replacement spot for a collapsed irrigation well that pumped 550 gallons per minute. He grips a rod in each hand, held like a pair of pistols.
Mop of brown hair under a boonie hat, clad in t-shirt, canvas pants, and steel-toe Timberlands, he crosses to the far side of the field as the rods repeatedly move inward. No big show. No dramatic gestures. No performance. Just the gentle crossing of the rods—the telltale sign of water in proximity.
Hemmer confidently informs the farmer: “This spot will pump 1,000-1,200 gallons per minute.”
“Impossible. I was only getting 500-plus on the other side.”
“It’s here,” Hemmer responds. “Bout 265’ down.”
Banking on Hemmer’s reading, the farmer prepares to drill.
Days later, Hemmer’s phone rings: “You’re damn near spot-on. We hit water at 270’, pumping around 1,250 gallons per minute.”
Blind luck? Power of suggestion? Science? The unseen hand? Untapped senses?
How did a Nebraska dowser, with no family background in witching, find the gift?
No Harm, No Foul
In 2015, riding shotgun across endless Nebraska flats in a Dodge Ram 5500 service truck, Hemmer was a willing hostage to conversation. Behind the wheel, 81-year-old Gilbert Preister, Hemmer’s co-worker and founder of Preister Well & Backhoe, rattled off tales of the trade, each story layered with rabbit trails.
“Gilbert would tell me stories about drilling on farms and hitting nothing and having to get a water witch instead. He had wells that were drilled strictly on the word of witcher Ervin Dohmen, and Gilbert believed in it, but he couldn’t explain it. I’d heard of witching before Gilbert, but knew nothing about it. Sounded like nonsense to me, but riding in the cab made me wonder if there might be anything to it.”
“I’d talk to our customers and they’d tell me that prior to drilling their wells back in the 1980s or 1990s, those wells had first been witched. I kept thinking about it.”
Intrigue sparked, 25-year-old Hemmer dove into dowsing research after hours. No family, friends, or fellow dowsers for help. Alone, he fashioned rods and walked sites around his rural home spots already confirmed to hold water. The rods spoke.
At work, Hemmer’s successful back yard experiments blossomed. “One day we were looking for a waterline, and the customer said, ‘It’s right here.’ But the customer turned out to be wrong and we dug for an hour looking for the line.”
Curiosity building, Hemmer grabbed two flags from the service truck, shaped them into makeshift rods, and began dowsing the property. The wire rods crossed and Hemmer made his mark. “We dug right there. At 6’ down, I was within a couple inches left and right of the waterline. I started realizing I had genuine ability. This was real.”
Next step? On the job, he witched spots during drilling to see if dowsing matched actual results in the field. No harm, no foul.
“We were going to drill in those places no matter what. I started witching beforehand, making my predictions each time, with no damage to anyone. Kind of a trial to see if I could dial in.”
The result? Gangbusters. A Nebraska witcher was born. Success after success, he says.
Uncanny. But what is the link between water, rods, and mind? How does Hemmer explain the mystery of dowsing?
Hitting the Bull’s-Eye
“I claim no scientific proof, but this has worked for centuries, and everyone has a different explanation. What I’ve slowly learned is that it’s not the tools or type of rod. It’s a mental state. Everything around us gives off some kind of frequency, almost like a radio wave.”
“I set my mind to whatever I’m looking for—water, sewer line, or grave—and my mind knows the frequency. Do it over and over, and confidence builds. You become more attuned to the things around you.”
In 2020, he started Hemmer Dowsing & Water Witching as a side business, offering dowsing services in Nebraska and beyond. As his reputation built, the service call volume grew in tandem: wells, septic tanks, water lines, and settler graves.
On a witching call, no special environmental conditions are required. No solitude needed. “I like to be with the customer when I’m doing it. We talk the whole time I’m working, and that keeps me from overthinking. I’m going strictly off my mind-rod connection, and noise doesn’t bother me at all.”
“The rods are my visual indicator coming off what my mind and body are picking up. It’s amazing when you get that strong pull, and you know there’s water below.”
With skeptics in abundant supply, reputation is everything. In addition to pinpointing the location of significant water, Hemmer differentiates between seepage well and deep water well. Translated: Hemmer must stay tight in the bull’s-eye.
“When I get a call from a customer four hours away, and I go on their land and witch a spot for a residential well—that means money on the line for them. It’s as serious as it gets when someone pays $10,000 to drill a hole based on my recommendation. That’s how confident I am in what I do. At the end of the day, I’ve got to come in the ballpark of 95% correct.”
The Water Prophet
The hat of a dowser casts a long shadow. As in, most practitioners are up in age. The art of dowsing may by dying, but Hemmer is the exception, still in his early thirties.
“People are welcome to ask me anything about witching and believe what they will. I’ll let the results in the field speak for themselves. Doubters really don’t bother me, because those same people don’t realize that whether they live in Nebraska or Texas or Pennsylvania, their forefathers all believed in witching. Whenever old settlers wanted to dig a well, somebody with dowsing skills was used. Those were major undertakings and huge decisions because the well had to be dug by hand.”
Can anyone dowse? Maybe, Hemmer says. “I’m not special and this is not magic. I think most people could do it if they could get around a mental block and know how to tap into whatever connectivity is going on.”
Eight years into a remarkable dowsing career, Hemmer is hitting stride. Rods in hand, the young water prophet is on the hunt.
“It’s pretty simple,” he concludes. “If it’s in the ground, I’ll find it.”
For more from Chris Bennett (@ChrisBennettMS or cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:
Corn and Cocaine: Roger Reaves and the Most Incredible Farm Story Never Told
How the Deep State Tried, and Failed, to Crush an American Farmer
Game of Horns: Iowa Poacher’s Antler Addiction Leads to Historic Bust
Ghost Cattle: $650M Ponzi Rocks Livestock Industry, Money Still Missing
