Between Kilkishen and Tulla lies a beautiful lake called Cullaun Lake that has a reputation for being enchanted.
A man called Pat Murphy had land that stretched down to the lake’s edge. He decided to set aside a bit of it for meadowing, so he fenced it off to keep his cattle from that field. Pat noticed a strange thing: the grass in his field was never as lush and green as he expected it should be. He suspected his neighbours of putting their beasts in to graze his field at night and taking them away early in the morning. He decided to stay up one night to see if he could catch them at it.
The night was quiet and lit by a large silver moon. Pat concealed himself behind some rocks and bushes to wait. At the stroke of midnight, a dark cloud came and covered the moon. A shiver ran down Pat’s spine as he heard the stillness of the night broken by the shrieking of gulls and a strange, dull crunching sound. How Pat wished he had stayed warm and safe in his bed, but now he was paralysed with fear, and could not run away if he tried. He trembled under the bushes that suddenly seemed a very poor protection from whatever was coming towards him.
The crunching sound grew closer and closer. A breeze blew the dark cloud from the face of the moon, making it light enough for Pat to catch a glimpse what was making the sound. What he saw nearly caused Pat’s heart to stop and he clung in terror to the bushes. Whatever it was, it seemed a huge creature, like a monstrous eel or water snake, that crawled on its belly over the field. As it drew itself over the ground, it consumed vast swathes of grass with a hideous crunching sound.
His face ashen and his eyes wild with fear, Pat waited the long cold hours until daybreak, when the monster, having finally eaten its fill, coiled its vast body around in a circle and made its way back to the lake. With the light of the sun, Pat’s courage returned. He crawled out from under his bush and shook himself to warm his blood. He stood up then to make sure to get a good look at the monster. What he saw had the appearance of a gigantic eel, over ten feet long and with a ferocious frill of a mane along its back.
As the creature slid back into the lake, the waters bubbled as if its surface was a pot of water on the boil. Giant waves rolled over the shore, leaving a ragged trail of leaves and branches in their wake. The air was darkened by the sudden flight of birds disturbed from where they slept, all shrieking with fright. Pat covered his ears against their wailing, and out of his own throat came a cry of awful torment and terror. Exhausted after this final fearsome sight, Pat fell down on the ground, quite still and totally unconscious, his mouth still open in contorted the shape of his scream.
Hours later his neighbours found him crawling along the edge of the lake on his hands and knees, only half conscious, mumbling incoherently to himself. They brought him home and put him in his bed, but when they asked him what had happened that had frightened him so, he was unable to speak more than a couple of stumblingly incoherent words, ‘Mo, mo, monster … li, like an eel …’
Pat remained in his bed from that day, and was not able to do a day’s work after that.
Between Lahinch and Liscannor there is an old church called Kilmacreehy. It was named after St MacCreehy, who founded a school there in the sixth century. But perhaps MacCreehy’s main claim to fame was for banishing the fairy badger. ‘The what?’ you may be wondering, but yes, you did read it right, the fairy badger. It was known as the Broc Sidhe, or Bruckee, of Rath. This creature, which some people think might have been a bear, lived in a cave called Poulnabruckee, near Rath Lake, at the foot of Scumhall.
Rath Lake is just a small lake and its edges are marshy and covered with reeds. The demon badger used to round up any cattle grazing nearby and drive them into the lake where he would devour them. The Bruckee had a huge appetite, and the people around Scumhall didn’t know what to do about it.
It was taking large numbers of their cattle every year and so they pleaded with the saints to come to their aid. The saints came, four or five, one after another, and prayed, holding up their staffs and commanding the beast to go back to its cave and never to return, but all to no avail. Still the Bruckee advanced with its ferocious jaws opened wide, showing its sharp teeth.
St Blathmac came and tackled the beast with his bell and his staff and his wits. It was a long hard battle and the creature grew ever more fearsome but the saint refused to give up. Just as it seemed that he would lose the day, St Macreehy came along to add his strength to the fight. MacCreehy had already proved himself by slaying a gigantic eel that rose from the waters of Liscannor Bay and ravaged the graves of the dead in the old churchyard there.
MacCreehy faced the Bruckee fearlessly, and eventually he got the upper hand. He cornered the monster in its cave, bound it in chains and cast it to the bottom of the lake, but he gave it permission to rise to the surface once every seven years.
Even as late as the 1930s, the creature was seen very early in the morning by two men who were out fishing. By this time, the creature seemed to have learnt the art of changing its shape and appearance, and it did this every hour or so. When you’d just got used to seeing it as a horse and a harrow, it quickly changed itself into the guise of a rick of turf! After that it took on the shape of a house. All day long it kept changing its shape. At nightfall it disappeared into the lake again, and it hasn’t been seen again since. But then again, no one has really been looking for it.
The people remembered the brave St MacCreehy, the Bruckee-slayer, and a carving of the Bruckee is still there on a stone in the old church at Kilmacreehy.
There were, at one time, three monsters that terrorised the people in the area around Doolough Lake and Mount Callan.
The first was an enormous wild cat that had made its home at Craig na Seanean, by a small stream whose waters ran into a river that eventually reached Doolough Lake. It used to kill fowl and lambs, and even young calves. Everyone lived in fear of this cat because of its tail, which was over seven feet long and had three claws in its tip. The cat would swing its tail like a whip, tearing at the flesh of whoever was unlucky enough to come within its range. It was a terror to the neighbourhood, and although the people tried to kill it, it always seemed to come back.
Another of these monsters was a particularly huge wild boar, or turc, that roamed the district to the east of Doolough Lake. The boar stood over seven feet tall and bore two lengthy tusks sharp as spears. That beast caused enormous devastation, crashing through walls and fences, flattening trees, hurling boulders and tearing up the land with its heavy feet. It was even more terrifying than the wild cat, causing harm to cattle and to the people themselves.
As if that were not enough, it was around this same time that St Senan famously defeated the Catach and banished it to Doolough Lake on Mount Callan (and as this story is told elsewhere, I won’t tell it to you now), where it was condemned to live on an eel. The Catach was a ferocious sea serpent over 3 miles long that used to inhabit the waters around Inis Cathaigh (Scattery Island) in the Shannon. They say it could circle around Inis Cathaigh and put its tail in its mouth. It used to cause boats to capsize and many lives were lost in the deep waters. Although the good saint had secured the monster with a chain and commanded it to do no further harm, the Catach was still seen on dark days in that dark and gloomy lough. The people were afraid it might break its chain, and no one knew what destruction it would wreak in the area if it had its freedom.
Ah yes, these were dangerous times, but they were also times when young men were hungry for heroic challenges and adventures.
Around this same time, far in the north, the wife of the King of Ulster died, leaving her three sons without a mother to love and care for them. The king was heartbroken, for he had loved his wife dearly, but being realistic he knew he must marry again for the sake of his children. The woman he took as his new wife proved to be cruel, wicked and vain. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. Perhaps if he had waited a little while he might have made a wiser choice, but such are the benefits of hindsight. The new queen had no wish to look after her new husband’s three sons. In fact, she’d rather they were sent far away, the further the better. She played a game of cards with them, with forfeits for the losers. The two older sons lost to her. The forfeit she demanded of the first two sons was that they should go to County Clare on a challenging quest. The challenge was that they must hunt and kill the wild boar of Mount Callan, the wild cat of Craig na Seanean and the Catach of Doolough Lake. These challenges were far enough away, and dangerous enough that they would be well out of her way, and indeed, if she was lucky, they might not ever return. The youngest son won his game against her and he demanded, as forfeit, that his stepmother be incarcerated in the highest tower in his father’s palace on bread and water until he and his brothers returned from their adventures.
The three young men set off early the next day on horseback, and it took them a good two weeks to reach County Clare. They left their horses at Connolly and continued on to Mount Callan on foot. Each of them carried three long spears and a sword. First they sought out the boar, or rather, they had not gone too far before the boar found them. They were just beginning to climb the hill when the boar came crashing towards them, dislodging big rocks and hurling them at the brothers. Dodging the flying boulders, the brothers threw their spears at the angry beast, but its hide was so thick the spears just bounced off. They were not to be put off, but pursued the beast all day. Just before nightfall they found the boar in his cave, enjoying the spoils of his day’s foraging. They goaded and teased him with their spears until he came out of the safety of his cave and then the battle began. The brothers used their weapons as best they could. The boar used its bulk and its long tusks against them, wounding one of the brothers. The light was fading, but at last, with their swords upright they struck the boar in the neck and killed him. They cleaned their brother’s wound, saw that it was not too deep, and being young and strong he soon recovered. They cut off the boar’s head and put the trophy on a rock. That gave the name to that place, Cean Turc, that is now Connolly.
The following day they sought out the wild cat. They found it by the stream, and had another battle. It took four hours of heavy fighting, the cat employing its long and clawed tail to make sure the brothers kept their distance. One of the brothers sliced off the ferocious tail with his sword, and after that the cat presented little further challenge.
Having beaten the boar and the cat, the triumphant brothers went on to Doolough Lake to tackle the serpent. The Catach was fastened with a chain and could not leave the lake. Though it coiled and spat at them, showing its sharp teeth, it could not harm the brothers, because of St Senan’s spell. When they sliced through its long neck, the sea serpent’s blood spilled into the water and over the land around them. Where the Catach’s blood touched the ground the grass that grows there stays bright and lush, whether it is winter or summer.
Now the three young Ulster princes had defeated all three monsters; they had fulfilled their forfeits to their stepmother and could return home.
I do not know the story of their journey home, but I do know that if I was one of them, I would be in no rush to release the new queen from her prison in the palace tower. I wonder if their adventures in County Clare whetted their appetite for adventure, so perhaps they went on to further quests, and took the long road home.
The Monster of Cullaun Lake: SFS (1937-38) From old people in Quin, Ballycar, p.232; I also heard this story whilst walking at Cullaun Lake.
The Broc Sidhe of Rath: SFS (1937-38) Patrick McGuane, Scumhall, Corofin, heard from his father, Diseart, p. 43.
The Boar, the Cat and the Serpent: SFS (1937-38) Maire ni Concubair, Kilmihil, Cahermurphy School, p.131.