The Stomping Grounds of the New Forest Fairy Folk

“Hello! You made it!

Welcome to our walking tour of the New Forest fairy stomping grounds. You found our starting point ok, I see. And you’ve got your wellies on – good, good. You’ll need those.

So, how much do you know about fairies? A little? Good. Then you already know they’re nothing like the thumb-sized, Tinkerbell flower fairy sort people imagine. You’ll know, too, that they can be mysterious and deceptive. Not always to be trusted. Curious, though. Very curious. Let’s walk and talk, shall we? Come along folk, this way…

When we talk about fairies, we’re usually talking about a whole tangle of creatures and spirits from across Britain and Ireland. Up north, you’ll hear of boggarts and brownies; down in the South West there are pixies and piskies; almost everywhere, there are hobgoblins, will-o’-the-wisps, and – perhaps the most unsettling of all – changelings. Funny-looking fairy children left behind when a human baby has been stolen away by the fair folk. Careful there, mind that puddle. Once upon a time, nearly all country folk believed in fairies. In fact, they spent much of their time trying to appease them or, at the very least, avoid offending them lest they find themselves the victim of their magical mischief. Down south, we have fairies, pixies, and Derricks. But round these parts it’s the New Forest pixies you need to watch out for. A little wilder and far less interested in helping out with domestic chores like their northern cousins. Ah, while I remember – you have brought a packed lunch with you, haven’t you? Because everyone knows you don’t accept fairy food. Not if you want to stay in the human lands. You forgot? Oh dear. Well, never mind. Perhaps we’ll stumble across an orchard or something we can help ourselves to. Not too much, mind.

What’s that? What do the New Forest pixies look like? They vary. The pixie proper is often described as a strange, small, wrinkly old man with round ears and pale skin. When I say small, I mean anything from hand-sized to infant-sized, or just really short. Sometimes they’re naked. Sometimes they’re wearing green or white. Some are even known by name, like Puck, a shapeshifting pixie who takes the form of a Colt Pixie or a will-o’-the-wisp to frighten people or lure travellers astray, but I’ll tell you more about them later.

This brings us to our first stop, just along this lane and into Furzey Gardens. This place, along with other spots like nearby Puckpits, the fairy ring in Pinnick Wood, Pixie Field, Tom Puck’s Hill and countless other places – some of which we’ll visit today – has a long history of fairy sightings. People often speak of fairies dancing in circles to strange, beautiful music that drifts through the trees. If you do see that today, try not to join them. Thirty minutes in a fairy circle may actually be thirty hours. Time doesn’t work the same for them as it does for us. Right, let’s keep moving. Hmm? Yes, it is lovely here, but if we linger too long we’ll never make it round by nightfall, which is precisely when a will-o’-the-wisp might lure you into a lake or a bog. And we do not want that…

Heywood Sumner’s depiction of the Fairy Ring in Pinnick Wood, Hampshire Field Club & Archaeological Society

…So, we’re heading north now, to Hasley Enclosure. Yes, that’s it, up this way. Beautiful, isn’t it? Gorse and heather stretching for miles and miles. You see those two hills there? That’s Little Witch and Great Witch. I can tell you a little more about them another day, but the reason we’re passing through here is because once, before these witches were turned into hills, they helped a young lad called Jack find his girlfriend. She had been kidnapped by the fairies – something they have a habit of doing – and before he could even think about rescuing her, he needed to be able to see them. So he tricked these witches into giving him a fairy ointment, which he rubbed on his left eye. Long story short, it worked. He found her and successfully escaped the fairy world, landing back in the human lands at Ragged Boys Hill, not too far from here. And once he was safely and smugly on his way home with his lady, he came across a funny-looking, pale, wrinkly old man who, upon realising Jack could see him, plucked out his left eye with a stick. Yes, ouch indeed. Speaking of, careful of that bush there. It’s terribly spiky…

…How are you holding up? Hungry yet? I’m pretty sure there’s an apple tree somewhere up ahead. Ah, there it is. Just don’t take too many, or Lazy Laurence’ll get you. I’ll tell you about him later. So, this is Burley Moor, and our next stop is about a ten-minute walk into the middle of it.

There. Do you see this great big barrow ahead? The one with the old tree right in the middle? That’s Collin’s Grave. This is one of the fairy hotspots I mentioned earlier. It’s also one of the places you might find Tiddie Cole and Gran Collin – two famous New Forest pixies. One is very small, and one is very large, bigger than you and I. They’re usually throwing a squoyle back-and-forth. A squoyle? Oh, it’s a short, weighted stick. It was once used for hunting squirrels. Let’s keep going. We’ll see if we can find some more water, we’re all out. I can’t believe you came on a walk like this without any…

Here we are. This spring by the bog is called Burley Rocks. It’s said to have healing powers and it’s where that Jack tried to heal his left eye. No, he didn’t succeed, I’m afraid. Now drink up, we’re heading to Beaulieu next and it’s quite a walk away. Let’s go…

…You remember Lazy Laurence I mentioned earlier? He’s pretty famous around these parts, and in Dorset and Somerset too. But that barrow up ahead is said to be his home. He’s the protector of orchards, apples, and cider. Fond of making trespassers drowsy, ill, or suffering a tummy ache while he helps himself to a swig. There are many tales of him, like when he plays tricks on some particularly disrespectful big-city tourists, and another from Dorset, which tells of how he protects the apples of an old widow’s orchard. You want to hear that one? Alright. Well, one day, a conjurer from Purbeck came to steal her apples. They were the best in the area, you see. But old Laurence did his job well. He bopped the conjurer on the head with an apple and froze him on the spot. The conjurer never returned to steal again. Now you see why I told you to be careful with those apples! You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Lazy Laurence. Nearby, too, is the home of Watt, a pixie who shelters the witches underground in his barrow, granting them powers in exchange for, well, no one knows. Shall we move on to our final stop? This way, then…

We’re heading now to a slightly smaller barrow called Cold Pixie’s Cave, linked to the Colt Pixie. The Colt Pixie is another form of New Forest pixie that looks like a ragged, wild-looking New Forest pony. It’s pale in colour and there’s usually something off about it. This is one to be the most wary of. It’s known to lure both people and livestock to an untimely demise – into woods, into bogs and lakes, or even into oncoming traffic. It’s vital that you mind your step here. Last time I came looking for Cold Pixie’s Cave, I found myself following hoofprints in the mud. For some reason, I followed them through gorse, stepping out of a bush and nearly straight into a bog. I stopped dead just in time! I know, weird. Stay close, please. We’re nearly there. This barrow isn’t as easy to see as the last few we’ve visited. In fact, unless you know what you’re looking for, you won’t even know it’s there. It’s surrounded by bushes that obscure it completely. Aha! Here it is, just through here. This is Cold Pixie’s Cave! No, I know it’s not a cave, it’s just called that. I don’t know why. Children were once said to be lured right to this spot. Ponies, too – led on wild night-long gallops and found looking a little worse-for-wear by morning. Remember, if you ever find yourself lost and pixie-led, you can usually undo the spell by turning a piece of clothing inside out – like a sock. Yes, or a glove, that’ll do too.

And this is where we finish. Just in time, too – the sun’s beginning to set. Yes, it is lovely, isn’t it? That soft pink glow really brings out the lilacs of the heather. I hope you’ve enjoyed the tour! Another one? Well, I suppose we could go to Dorset one day. I know of a few spots around there. Would you like that? Have a think, then write to me and let me know. It’ll be later in the year, though. I have other creatures to investigate for the time being. But we’d best be getting home now, before the light fades and beings of the night grow bold.”

A note from me:

The tales and beings encountered on this ‘walk’ come from a mixture of recorded folklore and local tradition. Some of the places I’ve mentioned won’t appear on any map. The barrows, hills, and hollows are simply known by these names.

Before I let you go, a small practical warning: don’t try to follow this ‘walk’ step by step. If you’re local, you’ll know that the route I’ve stitched together here would take days to complete. We’ve travelled it instead with a little folkloric creative licence!

And finally, I’d also like to take a moment to thank my wonderful and undoubtedly bemused fiancé, Jack (not the one from the tale) for accompanying me up hills, through bushes, and over streams so that I could write this accurately.

Thank you for walking with me. Until next month!