I watched my grandmother thump watermelons going back to the 1950s. Mom did the same. I was told that thumping can tell a buyer just which one to choose. I believe it’s more of a ritual than anything scientific, with the thumper merely acting as if they know a good watermelon from a bad one.
Not once have I seen a younger person ask an older adult to thump their melon. They do it themselves, not having an inkling what they’re listening for. If their grandparents instructed them it was probably erroneous information to begin with.
People supposedly thump watermelons because the sound can indicate ripeness and internal texture. When you tap or thump a watermelon, shoppers are usually listening for a deep, hollow, resonant sound. That can suggest the melon has a high-water content and a mature interior.
A dull, flat, or overly dense sound may suggest the melon is underripe, overripe, mealy, or less juicy—though it’s not a perfect test. The practice likely goes back centuries, because people have long used sound to judge the quality of fruits and containers—similar to tapping barrels, gourds, or squash. No wonder so many yellow squash look as if they’ve been abused.
Watermelons have been cultivated for thousands of years, with origins in Africa, but the specific habit of “thumping” watermelons is difficult to date precisely because it was mostly a folk practice passed down informally rather than documented in writing.
I’ve tried to discern the sound of a good watermelon over a bad one by flicking my index finger on the outside. Since I have poor hearing, they all sound the same. The only true means would be to core drill to the inside, but that’s not allowed unless it’s in your own garden.
Mama Haynes grew watermelons, and they were generally always good. She used real cow and horse manure as fertilizer, saying that it made the soil sweet. I had to look this up.
Horse and cow manure are used as fertilizer because they add nutrients to the soil and improve the soil’s ability to hold water and air. As manure breaks down, it releases nutrients such as nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium, which help plants grow strong roots, leaves, vines, flowers, and fruit.
It also adds organic matter, which helps sandy soil retain moisture and loosens heavy clay soil, making it easier for roots to grow. Manure also feeds the tiny organisms in the soil that help break down plant material and turn it into food plants can use.
Fresh manure can be too strong for plants, so it’s usually better to use it after it has aged or been composted before working it into the garden. Aged manure is less likely to burn plants, spread weed seeds, or carry harmful germs. The cardinal rule before using is: “If the pile is green, save it ’til next spring!”
I’ve never lived on a farm, nor do I have a green thumb. If I did, my motto for using animal dung as fertilizer would be a bit more logical. “If the pile is reeking, hungry flies are still eating!”
These days, when I purchase watermelon, I buy the sliced and prepackaged trays because I can see what I’m getting. Some will say this is more expensive, but when I bought a whole melon, a good portion of it ended up being thrown out.
The practice of thumping melons will undoubtedly continue long after I’m gone. Perhaps someday, an X-ray device will be available to peer inside things. Although I’m not going to buy a whole melon anymore, I still thump them as a personal tribute of sorts to my late mother and Mama Haynes.
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