Moors of Winscombe Face

It was on the night of midsummer's eve, there was a pregnant pause. Not even a leaf was moving, the sky so starry bright and the moon benevolently shining lighting up the moors. It was the kind of night that anything was possible, up here far from the maddening crowd Kept company by horses and sheep I climb to the top of the tor to be met by a vision of utter perfection. Under the full moon it was almost as light as day with no urban lights just a sky with a meridian of comets and a shooting star canvassing the landscape. moon so silvery back lighting all in warm glow yet keeps it secrets In the distance down near Timbercombe the harsh cough of a stag softly calling to his doe's gathering them up to climb to the top of Winscombe Face. There they will browse until the dawn starts to streak the sky as night turns to day. Hush now, see that? A pair of hares sparing and chasing each the movements so fast as to be just a blur. But I transgress, led astray by the magic of this ancient place that in times of old was a beacon where a large fire would be lit to warn of maundering fleets of Vikings and later the Romans both coming to plunder and enslave. harsh cries ringing out as metal swords strike in rage blood spilt on the ground In the distance a moving shadow streaks across the moor rather catlike but too big for any domesticated cat, was I seeing the beast of Exmoor setting out to hunt wanting a closer look I set forth on an intersecting course. I managed to come within 300 yards when it turned and hissed at me warning me to back off. I did not Argue but stepped back to give it space with a last snarl it vanished from sight and search as much I could no further sight of it I saw just a couple of paw prints by the stream bank left in its soft muddy soil. on the wind swept moor a large cat stalking its prey it leaps and then kills Many are the rumours that abound up here, sheep taken and eaten not dog mauled but a clean suffocating kill. Do they really exist? these beasts of the moor? This has the experts in uproar, some saying yes, others no yet if you talk to farmers like Fred Bell he will tell you of his many sightings as he works his sheep farm a couple of miles from the face. He will tell you of seeing it stalk and kill with never a sound uttered and the sheep barely lifting their heads pay it scant attention. Up here with houses and farms far apart could it really roam freely yet leave so little proof of its existence? myths and mystery blend into the moors fabric whilst the night masks