The story of Vixen Tor is a tale steeped in mystery and folklore, nestled within the wild and rugged landscape of Dartmoor. Vixen Tor, a striking granite outcrop, has long been a source of local legend and intrigue. It is often referred to as the “Sphinx of Dartmoor” due to its unique shape, which, from certain angles, resembles a crouching fox or vixen.
According to one legend, Vixen Tor was once the home of a malevolent witch named Vixana. Vixana was known for her evil deeds and her ability to shape-shift into a vixen. She lived in a cave beneath the tor and took great pleasure in tormenting travelers who dared to venture too close to her lair. The witch would lure unsuspecting victims to their doom by creating treacherous mires and swirling mists that would disorient and trap them.
One day, a brave and noble young man named Bowerman set out on a hunt with his pack of hounds. Bowerman was the chieftain of a nearby village, and he was renowned for his skill and courage. As they hunted across the moor, Bowerman and his hounds inadvertently stumbled upon Vixana’s lair. Enraged by the intrusion, Vixana transformed herself into a vixen and lured Bowerman and his hounds into a boggy mire, where they met their tragic end.
In some versions of the tale, Bowerman and his hounds were turned to stone by Vixana’s curse, and they can still be seen today as the granite outcrops that stand near Vixen Tor. The witch’s malevolent presence is said to linger around the tor, and many believe that the area is cursed.
Visiting Vixen Tor today can be quite challenging, as the land surrounding it is privately owned and access is restricted. However, the story of Vixen Tor and its legendary witch continues to captivate the imagination of those who venture to Dartmoor, reminding them of the region’s rich and mysterious past.
By the Fireside, two old droll tellers speak;
Speaker 1: In twilight’s grasp, the shadows danced, Upon the moor, Vixen Tor advanced, A granite spire, so grand and stark, One of the most dramatic, moor’s landmark.
Speaker 2: I’ve heard the tales, of Vixana’s haunt, A witch of lore, her legend’s font, She dwelled within the Tor’s embrace, A hidden lair, in shadows’ grace.
Speaker 1: Before the road in 1770s’ time, A track between Tavistock and Ashburton did align, Marked by stones, a path’s old trace, Vixen Tor, a guide, in moorland’s space.
Speaker 2: And west of Tor, a bog lay near, A treacherous trap, a place of fear, Vixana lurked, awaiting prey, Travelers lost, in mist’s dismay.
Speaker 1: By spells she wove, the mists would rise, Disorienting victims, with trickster’s guise, A swirling cloud, a fate so dire, They’d vanish deep, in boggy mire.
Speaker 2: Yet one young moorman, brave and bold, Outwitted witch, in legend’s hold, He led her to the Tor’s steep edge, And pushed her off, a fall’s revenge.
Together: And so, the Vixen Tor now stands, A testament to moorland’s hands, A tale of witch, of bravery, too, In fireside tales, we share with you.
