The Calf Named Ben Macdui

Morag Steward never knew her father. Ben Steward was the tallest and the strongest man in all of Speyside. Legend spoke of Ben Steward carrying hundred pound stones, one in each arm, when he cleared the land he farmed in Glenlivet. But even he was no match for the terrible epidemic of influenza that swept through the Speyside area in the winter of 1836.

Ben Steward never knew his only daughter, Morag, who was born three months after her father's death.

Theresa Steward had to raise five sons in addition to her daughter Morag. Fortunately for the Stewards, they farmed the land across from Minmore house in Glenlivet, the home of the prosperous whisky distiller, George Smith. The kindly Mr. Smith heard of the untimely demise of Ben Steward and of Theresa's plight, and he quickly found work for all of her sons in his rapidly growing distilling business. Theresa herself became cook to the Smith household, and soon the meals produced at Minmore House became the envy of everyone in Scotland (a legacy that, incidentally, continues to this day). Theresa brought her little daughter with her to the Smith's kitchen, but Morag did not stay there very long. The tiny girl preferred the company of the many animals in the nearby barns and fields, and she soon gave names to all her favourites - chickens and ducks, dogs and cats, horses and cows.

While Morag never knew her father, she grew up to know all about him, as her mother and brothers often spoke of the legendary Ben Steward. She heard stories of his great kindness as well as his great strength. During her early years she also heard stories of the nearby land, especially tales set in the wild and beautiful Cairngorm Mountains. This mountain range rose high above Glenlivet to the South, and a name that frequently featured in the tales related to her was Ben Macdui, the name of the highest peak in the rugged Cairngorms. In the way that only little children can, Morag interchanged the names of the great mountain with that of her powerful father. And so, to the delight of her mother and brothers, her father became synonymous to Ben Macdui. To the toddler her father was Ben Macdui, an ever present force keeping a loving, watchful eye over his family.

When she was eight years old, Morag noticed that her favourite cow, named Bonnie, had swollen in size. Theresa Steward explained to her little girl that this meant Bonnie would soon have a calf. Morag cried for joy at this news and said she had already decided on a name for the new calf, she would name it Ben Macdui. Everyone agreed that a finer name could not be found.

One afternoon in the spring of Morag's eighth year a fire broke out in one of the warehouses in the distillery. Everyone in the area went to fight the fire. As luck would have it, just then the cow, Bonnie, began to give birth to her calf. Morag was the only person in the barn as everyone else had gone to fight the blaze at the warehouse. The young girl had seen cows give birth before, and she watched with growing fear as Bonnie struggled and fought to bring her calf into the world. Morag could see that something was terribly wrong with Bonnie and the calf during the delivery and she cried loudly for help, but no-one came. In desperation Morag went to Bonnie and helped to pull the pitiful calf from it's mother. Remembering her father, Morag called on his tremendous strength and was somehow able to pick up the lifeless calf and carry it into George Smith's residence. She staggered into the front room and placed the still creature, still covered in fluids, in front of the fire blazing in the hearth.

"Please, Ben Macdui, please don't die. I'll go get some help, just please don't die!" But Morag's pleas were in vain, for the calf would not, could not, live.

As Morag raced out to find help she ran into the people who, after successfully putting out the fire, were returning from the warehouse. Breathlessly, she recounted the story of Bonnie and Ben Macdui. George Smith and the others listened incredulously, as they could not imagine the wee girl pulling a calf into this world, much less carrying it from the barn into Minmore House. Nonetheless, they hurried behind Morag as she ran into the house, noticing the fluid stains on the floors and the rugs leading up to the hearth. However, when they got to the fireplace in the front room, Morag screamed in agony - there was no calf to be found. The young girl sobbed and sobbed while her mother and brothers tried their best to comfort her long into the night.

For a long, long time afterwards, George Smith and the others tried to explain the strange occurrences at Minmore House on that fateful Spring day. The cow, Bonnie, had definitely given birth, of that there was no doubt. However, no trace of her calf was ever found. The only explanation offered was that the deaf-mute lad, Neil MacPherson, who worked on the Smith's farm, had found the calf in front of the hearth, taken it and thrown it into the River Livet. Neil was known to be slow of wit, having trouble communicating at the best of times, but he vehemently denied, as best he could, this claim of involvement in the sad episode. Morag stuck to her story, swearing that every detail was true. An explanation as to what had happened to the still-born calf, the calf who would have been named Ben Macdui, eludes to this day.

Many decades later Minmore House was transformed from a comfortable family home into the more than comfortable Country House Hotel that it is today. The hearth in the entrance hall still blazes with a cosy fire, warming the feet and soul of many a weary traveller. And every once in a while a sleepy guest will stumble down the stairs from their room and raise a cry of alarm. When a staff-member hurries to investigate what all the commotion is about, the stunned guest will blurt out... "There, just there, in front of the hearth, I swear there was a .... a.... calf! A little calf, just standing in front of the fire, as if warming itself. It's gone now, I can see that, but I could have sworn..."

With an odd, almost knowing smile, playing about the corners of his mouth, the staff-member will convince the guest that as the early morning light filters through the room's old window panes, it has the tendency to play tricks on even the most sober eye. Yet, it is with a sense of disbelief and the motivated gait of a speed walker, that the guest hurries back up the stairs.

Most people scoff at stories of ghosts and, possibly, quite rightly too. And the ghost of a calf, why, this seems even more absurd, don't you think? Well, don't you?