Witch Balls and Gazing Balls

I am slowly taking down Christmas on this Old Christmas Eve, and as I was sorting a box of decorations that I hadn't used I discovered a couple of glass balls I'd forgotten about. I bought them last summer at a yard sale and a thrift shop and never got them hung.

So now they grace my wintry views.

As I was hanging them, I got to thinking about witch balls--which is what many people call these colorful baubles. Some witch balls have strands of glass running through their centers. Mine do not, and some people call these plain ones friendship balls. But history reveals that early witch balls were like mine, just plain round glass balls.

According to Wikipedia, the belief that glass orbs would repel evil spirits began long ago. To determine if a person was a witch, the accused would be stripped to undergarments, bound hand and foot, and tossed into the water. Here is a description of the process:

Although the belief in trial by water can be traced back to the third millenium BC, the official use of 'swimming' in English law dates back to King Athelstan (928-930), where trial by water, termed 'indicium aquae', was a general test for all crimes. It ceased to be an official Law in 1219 under Henry III's reforms. For the next six hundred years it was popularly, but unofficially, supposed to be infallible in discovering the guilt of witches and those suspected of subscribing to the black arts.

It was believed that water rejected servants of the devil and that if a suspected person floated and refused to sink when placed in water it was proof of guilt.

The ordeal of 'swimming' was endorsed by James I of England, who stated in Daemonologie (1597) "that God hath appointed ... that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosome, that have shaken off them the sacred Water of Baptisme, and wilfully refused the benefite thereof."

As described by Sir Robert Filmer (1653) a suspect would be stripped naked and then tied up - the right thumb to the left big toe and vice versa. In this position she was then secured by ropes and thrown into a deep stream or pond three times. If she sank (and often drowned) she was deemed as innocent - if she 'fleeted' (floated) then she was 'guilty'. Often men with long poles were employed to push her under the water, while others, holding the ropes could drag her to the surface again. It became well known that, if the poor victim was laid out 'flat on their back and [holding] up their feet with a string' then 'the forepart will not sink' (Thomas Ady 1656) Foxearth and District Local History Society.

Some sources say that witches were believed to have rejected baptismal water, so therefore the water or swimming test was considered as a second baptism, and a witch would be rejected.

So how do glass balls fit into this? Glass balls have been used for centuries to float nets, and people saw this as the water rejecting the glass ball. So a ball that had floated in water was somehow viewed as a talisman against evil, and people would hang balls that had been used as floats in their homes to ward off witches and other evil spirits. Ir seems an odd twist, doesn't it, and yet there it is.

Many floats were made of blue and green glass, and these became the traditional colors for witch balls although today they can be found in almost any color or combination of colors.

Today glassblowers in the US and probably other countries continue to make witch balls; some who buy these glass orbs probably have no idea of their history. Others, like me, buy them because of that history.

My gazing ball, 2012

A spinoff of the witch ball is the glass gazing globes that many of us have in our gardens. Most of these have a mirrored surface.

According to lore, witches, on seeing their reflection in a mirror, will be frightened away (which is why people often had a mirror on the outside of their house). I suspect that again, many who have gazing globes in their gardens would be surprised at this connection.

Witchballs were not always glass. Some were made from human hair and grease formed into a ball, or with animal hair, as in this funny, flatulent story from North Carolina called The Witchball:

Once there was a poor boy who wanted to marry a girl, but her folks didn't want him. Hs grandma was a witch an' she said she'd fix it up. Sh made a horsehair witchball, an' put it under the girl's doorstep. The girl come outside, passin' over the witchball, an' went back in the house. She started to say somethin' to her mother, an' ripped out (crepitus ventris), an' every time she spoke a word, she'd rip out. Her mother told her to stop that or she'd lick her. Then the mother went out for somethin' an' when she came back in, she broke wind too, every time she spoke. The father come in an' he did gthe same thing.

He thought somethin' was the matter. so he called the doctor, an' when the coctor come in over the doorstep, he started to poop with every word he said. and they were all atalkin' and apoopin' when the ol' witch come in, and told them that God had probably sent that on them as a curse because they wouldn' allow their daughter to marry the poor boy. They told her to run and git the boy, 'cause he could marry their girl right away, if God would only take that curse offa them. The ole witch went and got the boy, an' on her way out, she slipped the witchball out from under the doorstep. The boy an' girl got married and lived happily ever after. (from The Encyclopedia of Superstitions--a History of Superstitions. M. and E. Radford, Rider & Company, London; probably first published in Journal of American Folklore 47, October-December 1934, "White Folktales and Riddles" by Ralph Steele Boggs.)


Want to know more? Try these online articles:

The dunking test.

Swimming and other strange tests for witches.

10 Tests For Guilt at the Salem Witch Trials.

History of the Gazing Globe.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Rindercella: A Blory Stog

If you have never heard of Spoonerisms then the title of this post is probably yeek to Grou. If you were a Hee Haw fan, however, you probably heard Archie Campbell tell the story and know exactly what I am referring to.

Spoonerisms (named after Dr. William Archibald Spooner) are phrases that exchange the first letters of words to create new words or phrases with entirely different meanings ( for example, "Larry had a little Mamb" certainly conveys a different meaning than "Mary had a little Lamb").

I love spoonerisms. I first heard Rindercella some years ago when a storyteller told it at a story swap. Now I cannot recall the teller's name or even where the story swap was--I'd guess it was at a National Storytelling Conference--but the story amazed me and I decided to learn it.

Rindercella is one of the few stories I memorized because the placement of letters and words is important in this tale. For most of the stories I tell, I learn the story, commit its "bones" or outline to memory, and then tell it in my own words. The telling varies by audience; their comprehension, the amount of time we have, their age all impact how I tell a story. In the case of Rindercella, I tell the story almost exactly the same every time.

Here is my version of Rindercella:

Tonce upon a wime in a coreign fountry, there lived a geautiful birl named Rindercella. She lived with her sticked wetmother and her two sister step-uglies. Poor Rindercella! She had to do all the wirty dork and those two sister step-uglies? All they did was hush their brair.

Now in that same coreign fountry there lived a prandsome hince. That prandsome hince was so lad and sonely that he decided to have a drancy fess ball and invite all the geautiful birls. When those two sister step-uglies heard that, they wanted to go! They said, "Rindercella! Drix our fesses and hush our brair! We want to go to the drancy fess ball!"

Well, after they left, Rindercella just cat down and shried. She was citting there shrying when her gairy fodmother showed up. "Rindercella, why are you citting there shrying?"

"I want to go to the drancy fess ball, but all I have to wear are these rirty dags," said Rincercella.

"Pro noblem," said the gairy fodmother. She turned a cumpkin into a poach and she turned six mite hice into hix mite sorses. Then she said, "You must remember to return at the moke of stridnight!"

Well, off Rindercella went to the drancy fess ball, and when she got there, the first person to see her was that prandsome hince. And he lell in fove with her, um hmm. They danced and danced. Then suddenly, the mock cluck stridnight! And Rindercella, she stan down the rairs!

But when she stan down the rairs, she slopped her dripper. And when the prandsome hince followed her, all he found was that slopped dripper.

The next day, the prandsome hince went all over the coreign fountry looking for the geautiful birl whose foot would fit into that slopped dripper. When he came to the home of the sticked wetmother, well those two sister step-uglies wanted to try it on. But their fig beet fidn't dit it. But when Rindercella tried it on, her fittle leet fid dit it.

Well, to make a strong story lort, Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married and they hived lappily ever after. And the moral of the story is: if you want to catch a prandsome hince, all you have to do is slop your dripper.

(Did this ever drive my spell-check crazy! Or should I say, did this ever spive my drell creck chazy!)

Other stories told Spooner-style:

Pee Little Thrigs

Beeping Sleauty

And closely related to Spoonerisms is a British tale I sometimes tell, Master of All Masters. The version below is from Joseph Jacob's English Fairy Tales.

Master of All Masters

A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.

He said to her: “What will you call me?”

“Master or mister, or whatever you please sir,” says she.

He said: “You must call me ’master of all masters.’ And what would you call this?” pointing to his bed.

“Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, that’s my ’barnacle.’ And what do you call these?” said he pointing to his pantaloons.

“Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call them ’squibs and crackers.’ And what would you call her?” pointing to the cat.

“Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call her ’white-faced simminy.’ And this now,” showing the fire, “what would you call this?”

“Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’hot cockalorum,’ and what this?” he went on, pointing to the water.

“Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, ’pondalorum’ is its name. And what do you call all this?” asked he, as he pointed to the house.

“House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’high topper mountain.’”

That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: “Master of all masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum.” .... That’s all.

Is your tonuge completely twisted now? Then try some of these tongue twisters:

The Tongue Twister Database

IndianChild's Tongue Twisters for Kids

Thinks.com tongue twisters

ESL for kids tongue twisters

Have fun! Tee you somorrow.

Possum Tales

This is just too good not to tell. Name omitted to protect the innocent.

He had to get up at 3:00 am Monday morning. Now that is not a friendly time of day to rise and shine, and he was afraid he might oversleep. As it turned out, he didn't need to worry.

At 2:44 am, he heard a commotion on his back porch, right outside his bedroom window. He knew right away what it was--a possum in the bag of dog food he left on the porch. He'd meant to move it after a possum had gotten in it a few nights before, but like I said, it had been a tough weekend. He'd taken a shot at that possum and winged it. Had it come back for more?

He grabbed his .22 and crept to the door. The possum must have heard the door creak because it scrambled out of the bag so fast he thought it was going to run inside the house, so he slammed the door fast. Through the window he saw the possum waddling off. He walked out onto the porch and took aim.

But...were there two possums? Apparently so. He could see the rotund behind of the one that had been in the dog food bag waddling off into the night. The other one, however, was just standing still and staring at him. He could see its eyes gleaming in the dark, that peculiar orange glow so familiar in headlights. He decided that the one looking at him was a) more likely to take the offensive and attack, and b) an easier target than the quickly vanishing hiney of the other possum.

So he took careful aim and hit it right between the eyes. When he walked over to inspect, he found that his aim had been perfect--he had perfectly shot the kids' kickball.

(Did you know that the reason animal's eyes shine in the dark is something called the Tapetum lucidum, more commonly called eyeshine? I just learned that myself as I researched to be sure I had the right color for the possum's eyes.)

Another thing about possums: you should always take one on a hiking trip with you. If he can catch one out and about at night, just shine a light on him and he'll play possum. You can pick him up and stuff him into a backpack and he'll travel comfortably all day.

Why would you want to take a possum hiking? Well, if you get lost, all you have to do is take the backpack off your back, open it, and wait. Sooner or later the possum will come ambling out and will make a beeline for the nearest road.

Ouch.

Then there is the story of the best coon and possum dog anyone ever heard of. It was a hound that just had to be shown a skinning board, and that dog bring in a possum or raccoon with a hide exactly the right size to fit the board. But one day the dog didn't come home. After three days its owner went looking for his favorite dog. He found him way back up on a ridge looking just worn out and pitiful. He had to carry the dog home, that's how bad he was. But when he got to the house, he found out the cause of the trouble. Seems his wife had been doing laundry and had left the ironing board leaning against the house. The dog was looking for a coon or possum big enough to fit the ironing board. Poor thing. We grow 'em big in West Virginia, but not that big.

picture by Bob Gress

Other possum stories you might like:

A Brer Possum tale about how he gets in trouble with a snake, told by one of America's finest storytellers, Jackie Torrence. She is gone but her stories and legend live on.

Brer Possum gets in trouble again, this time with Brer Rabbit, in Mr. Rabbit Nibbles Up the Butter.

Why the Possum's Tale is Bare was one of the first stories I learned as a storyteller, and it's still fun to tell.

De New Han' An old tale collected in the South in 1871 is told in dialect.

Ever wondered Why the Possum Has a Pouch? Find out in this story. Or Why Possum Has a Large Mouth? Click and learn!

You can find a flannelboard story about a coyote and a possum in Spanish at this site.

Lots of possum lore in this article that someone has kindly scanned into the computer and shared with all of us. Don't you love people like that?

Urban possums? Not an urban legend, apparently.

If you prefer your possum on the dinner table, you can find out how to cook it at Chow.com .

(I kid you not.) And you can read about one family's possum meal at Truth and Progress. A true story and they lived to tell the tale.

I think I'm about possumed out. Got any possum tales of your own to share?

The Recipe

A friend told this to me, and since everyone is talking about Christmas recipes, I thought it was worth sharing.

A woman bought a large ham at the butcher shop. As she was walking home she passed a friend's house. The most delicious smell wafted out the friend's door, and the woman stopped to enjoy the wonderful aroma. Her friend saw the woman and came outside to say hello.

"What are you cooking?" the woman asked. "It smells so good I had to stop just to enjoy it."

"Oh," said the friend. I am making my favorite recipe, ham with pineapple and cider. My grandmother is coming for dinner and I wanted to offer our best food for dinner. Would you like me to write down the recipe for you?"

"Indeed I would!" exclaimed the woman, delighted. Now she too would have wonderful smells coming from her house, and a special treat for her husband's dinner.

The friend quickly wrote out the recipe and handed it to the woman, who thanked her and continued along her way home. As she walked, she studied the recipe. She was not watching where she put her feet, and she tripped over a large root in the path. The ham she was carrying flew from her hands and landed some distance away. A dog ran up, grabbed the ham, and ran off with it.

The woman got to her feet and shook her fist at the retreating dog.

"That ham won't do you a bit of good!" she yelled.

She held the slip of paper up in the air. "I've still got the recipe!"

I thought this story sounded familiar. A quick online search revealed that this is actually based on one of the stories of Nasruddin, the Turkish wise fool. How intriguing to find it still living today, and just as funny now as it was in Nasruddin the Hodja's time.

Befuddled by Buzzards

I thought I was seeing things. Were those buzzards on the fence posts? Or some kind of puppet or stuffed animal toy someone had placed there as a prank?

Or, even worse, had someone shot some buzzards and mounted them on the posts as a warning to...who? for what?

I was in Gilmer County. The rain had just stopped and a slight mist was rising, making the sight of the birds just a little surreal. I turned around and drove back for a closer look. Some things are worth taking the time to explore.

This is what I saw when I returned to the place where the buzzards were roosting.

They stayed in this position for some time, allowing me to focus my camera, find a good angle and just generally stare at them. It was as if they were posing for me. One would fly off and another would take its place, wings outspread.

I watched them for several minutes. Maybe they were trying to look like eagles. I hated to tell them, but they're a little too redneck for that!


I left no wiser than I had been when I arrived, but my mind had something new to mull over for several miles. I think the buzzards might have been either a) hot and trying to cool off by spreading their wings, or b) trying to dry out after the rain.

If you've ever seen buzzards doing this, I'd be interested in hearing your explanation for their behavior. All I have at the moment are the workings of my fertile (or feeble, depending) mind.

The buzzards reminded me of this folktale from Burma:

The King of the Birds

Long ago the vulture was just an ordinary bird. His feathers were neither splendid or ugly--just ordinary. I'm sorry to tell you that vulture was also of ordinary intelligence--not too smart and actually rather stupid.
One day as the buzzard sat on a fencepost he looked down at himself and saw a feather drop to the ground. Another fell. And another.

"Oh my!" cried the vulture. I'm losing my feathers! Friends, help me!"

The other birds gathered around and looked.

"That's nothing," the chicken assured the vulture. "You're just moulting. All birds lose their feathers so they can grow new ones. That is what is happening to you. It's nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say!" said the vulture. "I'm the one going bald. I'll look ugly." He looked worriedly as more feathers fell to the ground. "This is terrible, terrible."

The vulture worried so much that he forgot to eat or drink. soon he was very thin and looked ill.

"Good grief!" said the blue jay. "You're worrying yourself into an early grave." The birds talked together and felt so sorry for the vulture that they came up with a plan to help him.

"Look, vulture. You can have one of my feathers." The blue jay plucked out a blue feather and stuck it into vulture's thinning feathers. One by one the other birds each gave vulture a feather. The robin gave an orange one from his breast; the goldfinch a bright yellow one, the cardinal a beautiful red one and so on.

"Wow! Look at me! I'm beautiful!" Vulture was so excited about his fantastic new plumage that he began to brag to anyone who would listen.

"Am I not the most beautiful of all the birds? Only look at me. I'm more beautiful than a rainbow." Vulture soon forgot how he had gotten his bright-colored feathers and did nothing but strut around boasting of his own beauty all day.

"Since I am now so handsome, I think that I must be the King of the Birds! All of you must bow down to me and call me Your Majesty!"

The birds had had enough. Quickly they took back all of the feathers they had given to vulture. They were so angry they also pecked off all of the vulture's own feathers! He looked wrinkled, bald and ugly when the birds were finished.

Those birds did such a good job that to this day the feathers on the vulture's head have never grown back. His old bald head is exposed to the sun every day, and burns redder and redder.

Or perhaps that red color comes from his embarrassment at remembering how once he thought he was the King of the Birds.

You can find another version of this story at Pitt's etext site for public domain literature.

One Minute Story: Nasruddin and the Two Beggars

As I dropped some coins into the kettle of the Salvation Army bell-ringer today, I was reminded me of this story about that logically illogical fellow, Nasruddin, and the time he gave coins to two beggars.

If you're not familiar with the Nasruddin stories, you've missed some funny and strange tales. These old stories have layers of meaning, while often provoking out-loud laughter by their incongruity.

Nasruddin is usually referred to as a "wise fool." I suppose that's an apt description, although he usually seems more wise in his stories than foolish. Nasruddin is a Persian storytelling character who appears in stories as far back as the 13th century. He is also referred to as the Hodja, or Mullah Nasruddin, and his name has several variant spellings.

Coming from the Middle East, these stories are a reminder of other aspects of a culture that we sometimes forget is more than what we hear on the news.

Here is the story:

Nasruddin and the Two Beggars (Middle East)

Nasruddin was walking down the street when he saw a beggar asking for money. Nasruddin asked him:

Are you extravagant? Oh yes, said the beggar.

Do you like to sit around and drink coffee? Yes, said the beggar.

Do you like to go to the baths every day? Oh yes, said the beggar.

And do you like to amuse yourself by going out with your friends, perhaps to dinner?

Yes, I like to do all those things, said the beggar.

Well, said Nasruddin, and gave the beggar a gold piece.

He met another beggar and asked the same questions. The second beggar answered no to all of them. Nasruddin gave him a small copper coin.

The second beggar asked, why do you give me so little when you gave that other fellow so much?

Ah my friend, replied Nasruddin, his needs are greater than yours.

Read more about the Hodja at http://www.nasruddin.org/ and on Wikipedia. Some very short stories are available here, and more information and stories have been put online by the University of Pittsburgh on this site.