The Cuckoo Of Castle Tioram
“A spirit in the form of a giant black frog went” began following him wherever he
If a Highland chieftain failed in his duties to his clan, the bards would immortalise his misdeeds in song and verse. So it was that John, 12th chieftain of Clanranald, became known far and wide as a madman.
He ruled from Castle Tioram on Loch Moidart in Lochaber in the 17th century, and campaigned with his son, Donald, alongside James Graham, Marquess of Montrose, in the Wars of the Three Kingdoms. Returning home in 1645, they found the Earl of Argyll had seized some of their lands, so they drove his forces off and ravaged Sunart and Ardnamurchan in their fury.
Perhaps some of that blood never quite washed off, for upon returning home to Castle Tioram John gained a reputation for arbitrary cruelty.
The story goes that John would stand atop the highest tower of Castle Tioram cradling his gun, which he dubbed “The Cuckoo” for the way it called out when fired, and shoot anyone who came within sight. On one occasion he slew a kinsman who had come to visit him, breaching all the sacred laws of guest right. On another, he suspected that three servants, two men and a woman, had stolen from him. The men he hanged without trial, the woman he marooned on a rock to be drowned by the incoming tides. It seems his deeds reached the ear of the devil himself, for a familiar spirit in the form of a giant black frog began following him wherever he
went. Terrified, he left it in a corner of the castle and sailed for Lochboisdale, South Uist, only to find it waiting for him on the shore.
He locked it up in the castle’s dungeons and made for Arisaig, only for the frog to appear swimming alongside his ship. A storm struck near Eigg and John’s crew begged him to bring the beast on board, and as soon as he relented the storm passed.
In his bed on Canna in 1686, John breathed his last and the frog vanished while a great crack – like the sound of the Cuckoo firing – echoed through the skies.
There is one problem with this fantastical tale, however – most English language versions of this story have the wrong man!
Renowned Gaelic seanchaidh, or bard, Aonghus “Beag” Maclellan, whose home was near the burial place of the chieftains of Clanranald at Howmore on South Uist, insisted that it was the son and not the father who christened The Cuckoo.
“Black Donald of the Isles”, he called him, and the facts are on his side.
It was not John, but Donald, the 13th chieftain of Clanranald, who died on Canna in 1686, and whose name was cursed by many residents of Canna, Moidart and the Uists.
It seems, too, that many historical writers somehow skipped a generation of the Clanranald chieftains, hopping straight from the 12th chieftain John to the 14th chieftain Alan Dearg who fought and died at the Battle of Sheriffmuir in 1715 – missing out on dreaded Donald altogether.
Perhaps the sins of the father had passed to the son. But which is the worse fate – being remembered as a tyrant, or not being remembered at all?